Dao Companion to ZHU Xi’s Philosophy (Dao Companions to Chinese Philosophy, 13) [1st ed. 2020] 303029174X, 9783030291747

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Dao Companions to Chinese Philosophy 13

Kai-chiu Ng Yong Huang Editors

Dao Companion to ZHU Xi’s Philosophy

Dao Companions to Chinese Philosophy Volume 13

Series Editor Yong Huang Department of Philosophy The Chinese University of Hong Kong Shatin, New Territories, Hong Kong E-mail: [email protected]

While ‘‘philosophy’’ is a Western term, philosophy is not something exclusively Western. In this increasingly globalized world, the importance of non-Western philosophy is becoming more and more obvious. Among all the non-Western traditions, Chinese philosophy is certainly one of the richest. In a history of more than 2500 years, many extremely important classics, philosophers, and schools have emerged. As China is becoming an economic power today, it is only natural that more and more people are interested in learning about the cultural traditions, including the philosophical tradition, of China. The Dao Companions to Chinese Philosophy series aims to provide the most comprehensive and most up-to-date introduction to various aspects of Chinese philosophy as well as philosophical traditions heavily influenced by it. Each volume in this series focuses on an individual school, text, or person. More information about this series at http://www.springer.com/series/8596

Kai-chiu Ng  •  Yong Huang Editors

Dao Companion to Zhu Xi’s Philosophy

Editors Kai-chiu Ng Department of Philosophy The Chinese University of Hong Kong Shatin, Hong Kong

Yong Huang Department of Philosophy The Chinese University of Hong Kong Shatin, Hong Kong

ISSN 2211-0275     ISSN 2542-8780 (electronic) Dao Companions to Chinese Philosophy ISBN 978-3-030-29174-7    ISBN 978-3-030-29175-4 (eBook) https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-29175-4 © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2020 This work is subject to copyright. All rights are reserved by the Publisher, whether the whole or part of the material is concerned, specifically the rights of translation, reprinting, reuse of illustrations, recitation, broadcasting, reproduction on microfilms or in any other physical way, and transmission or information storage and retrieval, electronic adaptation, computer software, or by similar or dissimilar methodology now known or hereafter developed. The use of general descriptive names, registered names, trademarks, service marks, etc. in this publication does not imply, even in the absence of a specific statement, that such names are exempt from the relevant protective laws and regulations and therefore free for general use. The publisher, the authors, and the editors are safe to assume that the advice and information in this book are believed to be true and accurate at the date of publication. Neither the publisher nor the authors or the editors give a warranty, expressed or implied, with respect to the material contained herein or for any errors or omissions that may have been made. The publisher remains neutral with regard to jurisdictional claims in published maps and institutional affiliations. This Springer imprint is published by the registered company Springer Nature Switzerland AG. The registered company address is: Gewerbestrasse 11, 6330 Cham, Switzerland

Acknowledgments

This 1000-page anthology, the largest volume in the Dao Companions to Chinese Philosophy series to date, cannot be completed without the support of many people. We are deeply grateful to our authors for their wonderful contributions as well as six anonymous referees for their many helpful comments on the volume. Professor Vincent Shen, one of the contributors, passed away in November 2018. His contribution to this book and his friendship will always be remembered. Thanks also to our colleagues from Springer, especially Anita Rachmat and Joseph Daniel, for overseeing the review and editing process. We also wish to express our gratitude to our three assistants, Cheuk-chi Yau for his copyediting of the manuscript and Tsz-wang Siu and Sin-hang Tse for their help with the index. Last but not least, we thank the Department of Philosophy, The Chinese University of Hong Kong for financial support.

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Contents

1

Introduction����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������    1 Kai-chiu Ng

Part I  Zhu Xi: The Philosopher as a Commentator 2

Zhu Xi: His Life, His Works, and the Evolving Formation of His Philosophy��������������������������������������������������������������������������������������   15 Jifen Li and Shiling Xiang

3

Zhu Xi’s Hermeneutics ��������������������������������������������������������������������������   47 On-cho Ng

4

Zhu Xi’s Four Books: The Locus Classicus of a New Confucian Philosophy������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������   71 Tze-ki Hon

5

Zhu Xi’s Interpretation of the Five Canonical Scriptures ������������������   89 Hans van Ess

Part II  Zhu Xi in the Chinese Confucian Tradition 6

Zhu Xi and Pre-Qin Confucianism��������������������������������������������������������  109 Don J. Wyatt

7

Zhu Xi and the Han–Tang Confucians��������������������������������������������������  129 Don J. Wyatt

8

Zhu Xi and the Five Masters of Northern Song ����������������������������������  145 Kai-chiu Ng

9

Zhu Xi and his Contemporaries: Zhang Shi, Lü Zuqian, Chen Liang, and Lu Jiuyuan ����������������������������������������������������������������  169 Hoyt Cleveland Tillman

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10 Zhu Xi and Later Neo-Confucians��������������������������������������������������������  195 Zemian Zheng 11 Z  hu Xi and Contemporary New Confucians: Reflections on Mou Zongsan’s and Tang Junyi’s Interpretations��������������������������  221 Cho-hon Yang and Ko-chu Lai Part III  Aspects of Zhu Xi’s Philosophy 12 Li and Qi as Supra-Metaphysics������������������������������������������������������������  243 Galia Patt-Shamir 13 Zhu Xi’s Metaphysical Theory of Human Nature��������������������������������  265 Junghwan Lee 14 Theory  of Knowledge 1: Gewu and Zhizhi��������������������������������������������  289 Yiu-ming Fung 15 Theory  of Knowledge 2: “Genuine Knowledge” and the Problem of Knowledge and Action in Zhu Xi������������������������������������������������������  313 Kai-chiu Ng 16 Z  hu Xi’s Cosmological and Metaphysical Interpretations of the Confucian Cardinal Virtues ��������������������������������������������������������  329 Shuhong Zheng 17 The  Problem of Evil in Zhu Xi’s Thought��������������������������������������������  345 Simon Man Ho Wong 18 Moral  Psychology: Heartmind (Xin), Nature (Xing), and Emotions (Qing)��������������������������������������������������������������������������������  361 Stephen C. Angle and Justin Tiwald 19 Zhu Xi and the Idea of One Body����������������������������������������������������������  389 Kwong-loi Shun 20 Moral Cultivation: Gongfu – Cultivation of the Person ����������������������  445 Peimin Ni 21 Zhu Xi’s Ideal of Moral Politics: Theory and Practice������������������������  465 Diana Arghirescu 22 Z  hu Xi’s Political Philosophy in Context: With Special Focus on His Commentaries of the Four Books ����������������������������������������������  499 Youngmin Kim 23 Zhu Xi’s Philosophy of Religion������������������������������������������������������������  523 Deborah Sommer

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24 Science  and Natural Philosophy: Zhu Xi on the Scientific Subjects and the Natural World ������������������������������������������������������������  543 Yung Sik Kim 25 The Worldview of Zhu Xi�����������������������������������������������������������������������  573 Chan-liang Wu 26 Zhu Xi and Confucian Environmental Ethics��������������������������������������  593 Shui Chuen Lee 27 Z  hu Xi’s Critical Naturalism: Methodology of His Natural Knowledge and Philosophy ��������������������������������������������������������������������  613 Vincent Shen Part IV Comparative Perspective 28 Zhu Xi and Buddhism ����������������������������������������������������������������������������  633 Kam-por Yu 29 Z  hu Xi and Daoism: Investigation of Inner-Meditative Alchemy in Zhu Xi’s Theory and Method for the Attainment of Sagehood����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������  649 James D. Sellmann 30 Zhu Xi and Christianity��������������������������������������������������������������������������  681 Lauren F. Pfister 31 Zhu Xi and Korean Philosophy��������������������������������������������������������������  739 Don Baker 32 Zhu Xi and Japanese Philosophy ����������������������������������������������������������  763 Eiho Baba 33 Zhu Xi and Western Philosophy������������������������������������������������������������  785 Don Baker Part V The Contemporary Significance 34 Z  hu Xi and the Fact/Value Debate: How to Derive Ought from Is��������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������  809 Yong Huang 35 Z  hu Xi and the Liberalism/Communitarianism Debate: An Imperfect Fit��������������������������������������������������������������������������������������  831 Catherine Hudak Klancer 36 Zhu Xi’s Normative Realism and Internal Moral Realism�����������������  857 JeeLoo Liu

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37 Zhu Xi and the Debate between Internalism and Externalism ����������  873 Shui Chuen Lee 38 Z  hu Xi and the Debate between Virtue Ethicists and Situationists: Virtue Cultivation as a Possible, Practical, and Necessary Enterprise������������������������������������������������������  895 Yat-hung Leung 39 Z  hu Xi’s Ethical Theory: Virtue Ethics Considerations and Kantian Parallels������������������������������������������������������������������������������  929 Kirill O. Thompson 40 Zhu Xi on Self-Focused vs. Other-Focused Empathy��������������������������  963 Justin Tiwald Index������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������  981

Contributors

Stephen C. Angle  Philosophy Department, Wesleyan University, Middletown, CT, USA Diana Arghirescu  Department of Philosophy, Université du Québec à Montréal, Montréal, QC, Canada Eiho Baba  Department of Philosophy and Department of Asian Studies, Furman University, Greenville, SC, USA Don  Baker  Department of Asian Studies, University of British Columbia, Vancouver, BC, Canada Hans  van Ess  Department of Asian Studies, LMU Munich, Munich, Bavaria, Germany Yiu-ming  Fung  Division of Humanities, Hong Kong University of Science and Technology, Hong Kong, People’s Republic of China Tze-ki Hon  Department of Chinese and History, City University of Hong Kong, Hong Kong, People’s Republic of China Yong Huang  Department of Philosophy, The Chinese University of Hong Kong, Hong Kong, People’s Republic of China Youngmin  Kim  Department of Political Science and International Relations, Seoul National University, Seoul, South Korea Yung  Sik  Kim  Department of Asian History, Seoul National University, Seoul, South Korea Catherine Hudak Klancer  Core Curriculum and Department of Religion, Boston University, Boston, MA, USA Ko-chu Lai  Department of Chinese Literature, National Chung Cheng University, Chiayi County, Taiwan, Republic of China

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Contributors

Junghwan Lee  Department of Aesthetics, Seoul National University, Seoul, South Korea Shui  Chuen  Lee  Graduate Institute of Philosophy, National Central University, Taoyuan, Taiwan, Republic of China Yat-hung  Leung  Faculty of Arts and Humanities, University of Macau, Macau, People’s Republic of China Jifen  Li  School of Philosophy, Renmin University of China, Beijing, People’s Republic of China JeeLoo  Liu  Department of Philosophy, California State University, Fullerton, Fullerton, CA, USA Kai-chiu Ng  Department of Philosophy, The Chinese University of Hong Kong, Hong Kong, People’s Republic of China On-cho Ng  Department of Asian Studies, Pennsylvania State University, University Park, PA, USA Peimin  Ni  Department of Philosophy, Grand Valley State University, Allendale, MI, USA Galia  Patt-Shamir  Department of Philosophy, Tel-Aviv University, Tel Aviv, Israel Lauren  F.  Pfister  Department of Religion and Philosophy, Hong Kong Baptist University, Hong Kong, People’s Republic of China James  D.  Sellmann  College of Liberal Arts and Social Science, University of Guam, Mangilao, Guam, USA Vincent Shen  (passed away in 2018) Department of Philosophy and Department of East Asian Studies, University of Toronto, Toronto, ON, Canada Kwong-loi  Shun  Department of Philosophy, University of California, Berkeley, Berkeley, CA, USA Deborah  Sommer  Department of Religious Studies, Gettysburg College, Gettysburg, PA, USA Kirill O. Thompson  Department of Foreign Languages and Literatures, National Taiwan University, Taipei, Taiwan, Republic of China Hoyt  Cleveland  Tillman  Yuelu Academy, Hunan University, Changsha, Hunan Province, People’s Republic of China Justin  Tiwald  Department of Philosophy, San Francisco State University, San Francisco, CA, USA Simon  Man  Ho  Wong  Division of Humanities, The Hong Kong University of Science and Technology, Hong Kong, People’s Republic of China

Contributors

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Chan-liang  Wu  Department of History, National Taiwan University, Taipei, Taiwan, Republic of China Don J. Wyatt  Department of History, Middlebury College, Middlebury, VT, USA Shiling Xiang  School of Chinese Classics, Renmin University of China, Beijing, People’s Republic of China Cho-hon  Yang  Department of Chinese Literature and Graduate Institute of Philosophy, National Central University, Taoyuan, Taiwan, Republic of China Kam-por Yu  General Education Centre, Hong Kong Polytechnic University, Hong Kong, People’s Republic of China Shuhong Zheng  Department of Philosophy, Sun Yat-sen University, Guangzhou, Guangdong Province, People’s Republic of China Zemian Zheng  Department of Philosophy, The Chinese University of Hong Kong, Hong Kong, People’s Republic of China

About the Editors

Kai-chiu  Ng is a senior lecturer at the Department of Philosophy, The Chinese University of Hong Kong. His main research interest lies in Confucianism, especially Zhu Xi’s philosophy. He is the author of Zhu Xi’s Theory of Self-Cultivation of Probing Principle (in Chinese, National Taiwan University Press, 2017).  

Yong Huang is a professor at the Department of Philosophy, The Chinese University of Hong Kong and the editor of Dao: A Journal of Comparative Philosophy and The Dao Companions to Chinese Philosophy series. He is an author of three monographs in English and three collections of essays in Chinese. He is also an author of 80+ articles each in Chinese and English. His main areas of research are Chinese philosophy, comparative philosophy, and ethics.  

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Chapter 1

Introduction Kai-chiu Ng

Zhu Xi 朱熹 (1130–1200) has long been widely recognized as one of, if not the most, influential philosophers of Neo-Confucianism; some even regarded him as one of the most significant philosophers throughout the history of Chinese philosophy. As acclaimed modern Chinese historian Qian Mu observes, “In the history of China, there were Confucius in the early ancient times and Zhu Xi in the near ancient times. Both of them shined out for their greatest brilliance and impact on the Chinese intellectual and cultural history. It seems that no other is comparable to them throughout Chinese history” (Qian 2011: 1–2). Chan Wing-tsit also held that “No one has exercised greater influence on Chinese thought than Chu Hsi [Zhu Xi] (Chu Yüan-hui, 1130–1200), except Confucius, Mencius, Lao Tzu [Laozi], and Chuang Tzu [Zhuangzi]. He gave Confucianism new meaning and for centuries dominated not only Chinese thought but the thought of Korea and Japan as well” (Chan 1969: 588). The high praise and comparison of Zhu Xi with the greatest figures of Chinese philosophy aside, Zhu is distinguished from other philosophers by his prolific amount of literature. To say that Zhu Xi was the most productive Chinese philosopher of all time is by no means an exaggeration. His philosophical works alone occupy at least half of the 27-volume, 2010-revised edition of Zhu Xi’s Complete Works (Zhuzi quanshu 朱子全書), while the rest features his literary works, official documents, and other non-philosophical writings. That said, of course it depends on how the term “philosophical” and “philosophical work” are understood. A comprehensive research on all the original philosophical works of Zhu Xi is already a challenging task to pursue, not to mention the huge amount of secondary K.-c. Ng (*) Department of Philosophy, The Chinese University of Hong Kong, Hong Kong, People’s Republic of China e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2020 K.-c. Ng, Y. Huang (eds.), Dao Companion to Zhu Xi’s Philosophy, Dao Companions to Chinese Philosophy 13, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-29175-4_1

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studies of his philosophy. Over the past decades, the Sinophone academia has seen a few significant research projects that provide a comprehensive analysis of Zhu’s philosophical system. Some of the notable works are the third volume of Mou Zongsan’s Mind-Substance and Nature-Substance (Xinti yu Xingti 心體與性體), Qian Mu’s five-volume New Scholarly Record of Zhu Xi (Zhuzi xin xue’an 朱子新 學案), and Chen Lai’s Research on Zhu Xi’s Philosophy (Zhuzi zhexue yanjiu 朱子 哲學研究). The study of Zhu Xi has also been gaining momentum in the Anglophone academia in recent years.1 Zhu Xi: Selected Writings, a new volume edited by Philip J. Ivanhoe containing nine translated chapters of Zhu Xi’s works including those on metaphysics, epistemology, ethics, moral psychology, is due in July 2019, and a new monograph tentatively entitled Zhu Xi and Later Confucian Thought by Kwong-loi Shun is also forthcoming. Nonetheless, a comprehensive English research volume that examines Zhu Xi’s philosophy has yet to be published. In this light, this book aims at presenting a comprehensive, systematic, detailed, and updated study of various, if not all, aspects of this great thinker’s life and philosophical achievements. This anthology, unlike a monographic study, encompasses diversified views on Zhu Xi’s philosophy contributed by over 30 scholars worldwide, in the hope of bringing together and synergizing collective efforts of the field. The following 39 chapters situate Zhu Xi’s philosophy in the historical context of Confucian philosophy as well as of Chinese philosophy as a whole. They trace both the earlier traditions that influenced him and that is responded to by his original thinking, as well as the later traditions that he influenced and that responded to his philosophy. Covering Zhu Xi’s works on metaphysics, epistemology, ethics, political philosophy, hermeneutics, philosophy of religion, moral psychology, and moral education, this volume is a thorough analytical and comparative study of Zhu Xi’s philosophy. We strive to show the potential that lies in various aspects of Zhu’s philosophy and explore the ways in which Zhu can contribute to contemporary philosophical issues, particularly to the analytic tradition.

 The emergence of noteworthy monographic studies has never ceased in the Anglophone academia over the past decades. For examples, there were Chan Wing-tsit’s Chu Hsi: Life and Thought (1987), Daniel K. Gardner’s Learning to Be a Sage: Selection from the Conversations of Master Chu, Arranged Topically (1990), Hoyt Cleveland Tillman’s Confucian Discourse and Chu Hsi’s Ascendancy (1992), John H.  Berthrong’s Concerning Creativity: A Comparison of Chu Hsi, Whitehead, and Neville (1998), Julia Ching’s The Religious Thought of Chu Hsi (2000), and Yung Sik Kim’s The Natural Philosophy of Chu Hsi (2000). In this century, new studies have come out one after another, such as Kin Ming Au, Paul Tillich and Chu Hsi: A Comparison of Their Views of Human (2002), Joseph Adler, Reconstructing the Confucian Dao: Zhu Xi’s Appropriation of Zhou Dunyi (2014), Catherine Hudak Klancer, Embracing Our Complexity: Thomas Aquinas and Zhu Xi on Power and the Common Good (2015), David Jones and Jinli He (eds), Returning to Zhu Xi: Emerging Patterns within the Supreme Polarity (2015), Shuhong Zheng, Zhu Xi and Meister Eckhart: Two Intellectual Profiles (2016), and John Makeham (ed), The Buddhist Roots of Zhu Xi’s Philosophical Thought (2018). 1

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1 General Discussion of Terminology As mentioned, this anthology does not aim to present a singular account of Zhu Xi’s philosophy, different versions of English translations (also the interpretations implied) of Zhu Xi’s famous view of “xin tong xing qing 心統性情,” for example, are included.2 At least three different translations can be seen for this proposition— “the mind/heart connects human nature and feelings” (Chap. 8), “the heartmind unites nature and emotions” (Chap. 18), and “the heart-mind encompasses nature and emotions” (Chap. 38). Apart from the slightly different translations of “xin”— “mind/heart,” “heartmind,” and “heart-mind”—and the noteworthy different interpretations of qing—feelings or emotions, just the different understandings of the verb “tong”—connect, unite, or encompass—are well worth for a serious debate. Given the differences in the translation and interpretation, on top of the vastness and complexity of Zhu Xi’s philosophical system, a general discussion of his terminology would be useful for ushering readers, especially those who are not familiar with his writings, into the intriguing world of thoughts of the philosopher. For a detailed introduction of Zhu Xi’s life and works, Chap. 2, “Zhu Xi: His Life, His Works, and the Evolving Formation of His Philosophy” would be a good place to start. A major focus of Neo-Confucianism of the Song dynasty (906–1279) lies in its response to the challenge brought by Buddhism, a religion which has begun to spread in the Chinese society since the Tang dynasty (618–907). While the challenge may first appear to be a social and cultural one, Neo-Confucians who have dug deep beneath the surface regard it as philosophical at the core. In their view, Buddhism is nothing but nihilism. Given a lens through which all things in the universe are unreal, all moral practices, dedications to interpersonal relationships, and cultural constructions—in one word, worldly involvements—are rendered absurd. The Neo-­ Confucians hold such fundamentally nihilistic view accountable for sinking society and culture into crisis. As a response to the challenge and a rehabilitation of worldly endeavors, the philosophical task of Neo-Confucianism is therefore formulated as a reaffirmation of reality in which involves two essential concepts—li 理 and qi 氣. Among the many terms in Chinese philosophy, qi is undoubtedly one of those most resistant to translation and does not have an English equivalent. None of the near 20 different translations of qi in this volume (see Table 1.1) can be considered uncontrovertibly correct. In this case, more and more scholars have started using the Chinese loanword of qi to avoid the pitfall of translation (see Chap. 23 for instance). Qi, however resistant to translation, is no doubt the fundamental material constituent of all empirical beings. According to Zhu Xi, qi “develops and nourishes things”

 The proposition “xin tong xing qing 心統性情” is first introduced by Zhang Zai 張載 (1020– 1077), who only mentions it once but without any explanation. Zhu Xi, on the other hand, takes it as an “unbreakable” truth-disclosing proposition and formulates his own view of moral psychology with it. 2

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Table 1.1  Terminology and their English translations in this volume Terminology Translations in this volume li 理 coherence, coherent patterns, cosmic principle, law, norms, order, Pattern, pattern, patterns, principle, principles, principle of coherence, reason qi 氣 configuring and vitalizing matter-energy, energy, forces, material force, pneuma, psychophysical constitution, psycho-physical force, sense-data, stuff, the physical, vital air or matter, vital-breath, vital energy, vital energies, vital force(s), vital stuff, vital power taiji 太極 Great Ultimate, Supreme Polarity, Supreme Ultimate wuji 無極 Nonpolar, non-polarity, Non-Ultimate, Ultimate Infinite, Ultimate of Non-being xin 心 heartmind, heart-mind, mind/heart, mind-heart xing 性 human nature, moral essence, nature, natural tendencies qing 情 emotions, fact, feelings, human emotions, sentiment, the manifested jing 敬 concentration, concentrative spirit, mindful sincerity, mindful-sincerity, mindfulness, reverence, reverent seriousness, seriousness hanyang 涵 conservation and nourishing 養 gewu 格物 interacting with things, investigating things, investigation of things, investigating affairs, reaching out to the things zhizhi 致知 extending knowledge, extending understanding, extension of knowledge qiongli 窮理 exhausting principles [of things/affairs], exhaustively investigating the li, exhaustive-comprehension of pattern/principle, extending principle to the utmost, fathoming the principle, grasping and exhausting li, probing principle, probing the principle of coherence to the utmost

through congelation (ning jie 凝結, ning jü 凝聚, jie jü 結聚; See Zhu 1994: [1]) and the end product can be seen as “condensed qi.” This kind of view offers the Neo-Confucians the first reason to reject nihilism: although nothing in the empirical world is everlasting, things only “dissolve” into qi when their existence comes to an end. In other words, one cannot establish the universe as unreal solely based on its transience. After all, changes are only the functions of the everlasting qi. The universe is always full of qi and therefore never empty. The second reason to reject nihilism lies in the concept of li. While the translation of li is relatively less tricky than that of qi, more than ten translations of li can be found in this anthology (also see Table 1.1). Generally speaking, Zhu Xi’s li is commonly understood as the being representative of the proper way of how qi functions. For example, seasonal change is a result of the movement of qi, but this movement usually follows a pattern that “winters are cold and summers are hot” (Zhu 1994: 2030) and such pattern is a symbol of the existence of li—without li, there would be no order but chaos. Zhu Xi further analogizes the pattern of nature to that of human world and holds that “the Way of Heaven (tiandao 天道) blesses kind people and condemns the bad” (Zhu 1994: 2030). In this light, moral practice is not as absurd as nihilists think, because it is endorsed by li. With the concepts of li and qi, Neo-Confucianism not only reaffirms the reality of the universe but also rehabilitates human’s worldly endeavors.

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A subtle difference between the interpretations of li in this volume lies in the characterizations of li’s ontological status: whether or not li is a transcendental (or non-empirical, metaphysical) substance or entity that is beyond the empirical qi. Although Zhu Xi often describes li as xing-er-shang 形而上 (above-form, or what is beyond form, or formless) and qi as xing-er-xia 形而下 (beneath-form or what is within form), which seems to imply a metaphysical–physical two-tiered ontology, his dichotomy of xing-er-shang and xing-er-xia can still be explained without regarding li as a substance and the suspicion that Zhu Xi does not hold a metaphysics still stands. This subtle difference in the interpretations of li as well as Zhu Xi’s worldview is noteworthy in this book. The two terms Zhu Xi frequently uses—taiji 太極 and wuji 無極—are adopted from Zhou Dunyi 周敦頤 (1017–1073), the founder of Neo-Confucianism in Zhu’s view. While both terms have several versions of translation in this volume respectively (see Table  1.1), their basic ideas are simple: taiji expresses the ultimateness of li (li as the ultimate being) and wuji stresses its formlessness and shapelessness. The above li–qi scheme is also adopted by Zhu Xi to describe the basic structure of human existence, especially the moral psychological structure, in which li and qi are parallel to xing 性 (human nature or nature) and qing 情 (feelings, emotions, sentiment) respectively. That said, it should be reminded that, in addition to xing and qing, the third essential concept, xin 心 (mind/heart, heartmind, mind-heart, etc.)3 is also often used in Zhu Xi’s analysis. The relationships and intersections between xin, xing, and qing form the crucial elements of Zhu’s philosophy, which are better clarified in his own words: Zhang Zai explains it very well. He says, “The mind/heart is what connects the nature and the feelings.” And when Mencius says, “The heart of compassion is the manifestation of humanity, the heart of distain is the manifestation of righteousness,” he explains the nature, feelings, and mind/heart extremely well. The nature never fails to be good. The feelings are the expressions of the mind/heart, and sometimes fail to be good. So we cannot say that what is not good is not the mind/heart. . . . “Nature” is a general term of li, while “humanity,” “righteousness,” “propriety,” and “wisdom” are all names for individual lis within the nature. “Compassion,” “distain,” “deference,” and “approval and disapproval” are all names for expressions of the feelings when the feelings come from the nature and are all good. (Zhu 1994: 92; see Tiwald and Van Norden 2014: 176, slightly modified)

Several points can be drawn from the quote above. Firstly, human nature is li and never fails to be good. Secondly, qing (feelings or emotions) are themselves morally neutral. Whether they are good or not depends on where they come from—they are good when they come from nature, and otherwise not. Thirdly, since qing is expressed by the mind/heart, the mind/heart can be said as not good when qing fails to be good. The source of qing needs clarifying here. On the one hand, they are “the expressions of the mind/heart”; on the other, they (when good) “come from the nature.” An analogy conceived by Cheng Yi 程頤 (1033–1107), the most important  These translations, despite slightly different from each other, all stress the two sides of the united faculty, xin: “mind” denotes the “rational side” and “heart” denotes the “emotional side.” 3

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predecessor of Zhu Xi, can shed light on this. Cheng states that “the mind/heart is analogical to a seed of cereal, and its nature of growing (sheng zhi xing 生之性) is humanity” (Cheng and Cheng 2004: 184). Decades later, Zhu Xi speaks of this analogy, “Yichuan’s (Cheng Yi) analogy of a seed of cereal was stunning” (Zhu 1994: 109). It is because the mind/heart, the nature, and feelings (or emotions) can be distinctly divided and defined by this analogy. Mind/heart (the seed) acts according to nature (the nature of growing), thus performs the (moral) feelings or emotions (the germ). In this case, nature is the transcendental ground of (moral) feelings that allows the existence of latter. Without nature, (moral) feelings can never emerge, which is analogous to the relationship between a germ and the nature of a seed (not the seed per se). Yet, from the viewpoint of the genetic process, nature cannot directly give birth to a germ, but requires a seed to do so. In short, the mind/ heart is the empirical source of feelings, while nature serves as the transcendental ground of the latter. The mind/heart is thus regarded as a mechanism through which manifests the formless nature and performs the feelings or emotions. In Zhu Xi’s view, Zhang Zai’s proposition that “the mind/heart connects human nature and feelings” deserves a high praise because of the truth it discloses. The above analysis establishes the mind/heart as the genuine key of human’s moral quality—although humans are born with good nature and this nature never fails to be good, the mind/heart may not act accordingly. Practically speaking (rather than ontologically speaking), what really makes a person a moral one is thus not nature but the mind/heart, because only when the latter acts according to the former, one’s expressions and performances would become morally good. Therefore, the theory of cultivation in Zhu Xi’s philosophy has unsurprisingly provided practical methods for cultivating the mind/heart—letting it always act according to human nature. In the field of the Neo-Confucianism study, especially that in the Sinophone academia, it is usually called gongfu lun 工夫論 (methodology or theory of self-­ cultivation), and the term gongfu 工夫 is translated into “cultivating activities” or “practice and effort” in this volume. Confucians before Zhu Xi have never ceased to talk about cultivation method and Zhu is definitely one of those who pay significant attention to gongfu. Zhu Xi provides a series of practical methods for self-cultivation, which altogether form a systematic theory of gongfu. The important ones of these methods include jing 敬, hanyang 涵養, gewu 格物, zhizhi 致知, qiongli 窮理 (see Table 1.1 for the translations in this anthology). In addition to the thematized discussion of Zhu’s gongfu theory in Chap. 20, a number of chapters including Chaps. 14 and 15 also touch upon this aspect of the philosopher’s thought. The above general discussion of Zhu Xi’s terminology may have only covered a few aspects of his philosophy, such as ontology (or metaphysics), moral psychology, and theory of self-cultivation, it has offered the readers an overview of the fundamental level of his world of thoughts, since his worldview and views on human beings lay the foundation of his thoughts on issues such as moral, educational, political, and environmental ones.

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2 Overview of Chapters The following 39 chapters are categorized into five parts. The first part contains four chapters under the title “Zhu Xi: The Philosopher as a Commentator.” While Chap. 2, “Zhu Xi: His Life, His Works, and the Evolving Formation of His Philosophy,” provides the readers with the necessary basic information about Zhu Xi and his philosophy, Chaps. 3, 4 and 5 analyze Zhu under the perspective that he built up and presented his own philosophy through commenting on and interpreting the Confucian core classics, that is, the Four Books and the Five Classics (Chap. 5 calls the latter “the Five Canonical Scriptures”). Chapter 3, “Zhu Xi’s Hermeneutics,” starts with constructing the rationale and practice of Zhu’s exegesis of the classics by appealing to the European and North American philosophies of reading, and finally argues that Zhu sees the reading of the classics as a charismatic and religious act. Chapter 4, “Zhu Xi’s Four Books: The Locus Classicus of a New Confucian Philosophy,” discusses how Zhu Xi deployed the Four Books to promote a Confucian moral metaphysics. Chapter 5, “Zhu Xi’s Interpretation of the Five Canonical Scriptures,” discusses in detail Zhu’s studies of the Changes, the Odes, the Documents, the Spring and Autumn Annals, and the Rites. Part II, entitled “Zhu Xi in the Chinese Confucian Tradition,” consists of six chapters which evaluate the philosopher’s significance within the Confucian context by comparing him with a number of major Confucians in different historical stages of the tradition. Chapter 6, “Zhu Xi and Pre-Qin Confucianism,” presents a survey of the major ideas and concepts of the first major Confucian philosophers— Confucius (Kongzi  孔子), Zengzi  曾子, Zisi  子思, Mencius (Mengzi  孟子), and Xunzi 荀子—which Zhu Xi self-consciously inherited. Chapter 7, “Zhu Xi and the Han-Tang Confucians,” discusses Zhu’s complicated evaluations of those prominent Confucian-minded thinkers living during the Han (206  BCE–220  CE) and Tang (618–907) dynasties, such as Dong Zhongshu  董仲舒, Yang Xiong  揚雄, Wang Chong  王充, Han Yu  韓愈, and Li Ao  李翱. The author points out that “despite finding much to admire about many members of this cohort of scholars, Zhu Xi seems to have found even more to criticize.” Chapter 8, “Zhu Xi and the Five Masters of The Northern Song,” analyzes the philosophical relationship between Zhu, the Southern Song (1127–1279) philosopher, and his immediate predecessors, the so-called “Five Masters”—Zhou Dunyi, Shao Yong 邵雍, Zhang Zai  張載, Cheng Hao  程顥, and Cheng Yi—of the Northern Song dynasty (960–1127). It attempts to show that as an undeniably great synthesizer, Zhu Xi was both creating through succeeding and depending on precedents while creating. Chapter 9, “Zhu Xi and His Contemporaries: Zhang Shi, Lü Zuqian, Chen Liang, and Lu Jiuyuan,” centers on four of Zhu Xi’s fellow philosophers, demonstrating how “shared roots in both the Confucian classics and major Northern Song Confucian thought enabled Zhu and these contemporaries to engage in productive discussions about differences over aspects of, and approaches to, their moral, philosophical and political goals.” Chapter 10, “Zhu Xi and the Later Neo-Confucians,” provides an account of Zhu Xi’s influences in the later Chinese intellectual history

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of Song (960–1279), Yuan (1271–1368) Ming (1368–1644) and Qing (1644–1912) dynasties. In addition, it provides an introduction to the major criticisms of Zhu Xi by the most representative later Confucians, including two of the most celebrated figures, Wang Shouren 王守仁  (commonly known as Wang Yangming  王陽明) and Dai Zhen  戴震. Chapter 11, “Zhu Xi and Contemporary New Confucians: Reflections on Mou Zongsan’s and Tang Junyi’s Interpretations” suggests an approach to understanding and to reinterpreting Zhu Xi’s core concepts about moral practice through discussing and comparing the interpretations offered by two influential modern Chinese philosophers, Mou Zongsan 牟宗三 (1909–1994) and Tang Junyi 唐君毅 (or Tang Chun-i, 1909–1978). The largest part of this volume, Part III, is entitled “Aspects of Zhu Xi’s Philosophy.” It consists of 16 chapters, which investigate the main body of Zhu’s theory. They cover not only the topics commonly expected by readers who are familiar with Neo-Confucianism—such as metaphysics, epistemology, ethics, political philosophy, moral psychology, and moral cultivation—but also his philosophy of religion, environmental philosophy, and the methodology of his philosophy. Chapter 12, “Li and Qi as Supra-Metaphysics,” provides us with a fairly new understanding of the core concepts of Zhu’s philosophy, li 理 and qi 氣. They are usually regarded as the essential constituents of Zhu Xi’s metaphysics. But the author points out that this so-called “metaphysics” provided by Zhu Xi involves in fact more than (pure) metaphysics and concludes that “perhaps it can even be considered ‘non-metaphysics.’” While it is also related to Zhu’s metaphysics, Chap. 13, “Zhu Xi’s Metaphysical Theory of Human Nature,” places its focus on the philosopher’s views about humans, exploring “how Zhu’s theory of human nature substantiates Mencius’ argument, and thus addresses diverse inherent problems.” Chapter 14, “Theory of Knowledge 1: Gewu1 and Zhi1zhi2,” turns to the issue of epistemology. It focuses on Zhu’s interpretations of gewu1 格物 (to investigate things/affairs) and zhi1zhi2 致知 (to extend knowledge/understanding), especially developing an account of his view on the meanings of these two important notions and their relationship. Chapter 15, “Theory of Knowledge 2: ‘Genuine Knowledge’ and the Problem of Knowledge and Action in Zhu Xi,” continues the discussion of moral knowledge from a different perspective. It deals with a challenging problem for Zhu Xi’s philosophy: if moral cultivation (or self-cultivation), as he holds, relies much upon a kind of “cognitive activity” (such as gewu and zhizhi discussed in the previous chapter), then, given the obvious phenomenon of the “weakness of will,” it is reasonable to suspect that this kind of “cognitive activity” may not provide enough motivation for moral actions. It is certain across many centuries that Confucian thinkers have reflected a lot on morality, as did Zhu Xi. In Part III we have five chapters related to his moral philosophy. Chapter 16, “Zhu Xi’s Cosmological and Metaphysical Interpretations of the Confucian Cardinal Virtues,” presents an interpretative position that Zhu, unlike his predecessors, was no longer content with seeking an ontological or cosmological ground for the four traditional Confucian cardinal virtues, humaneness (ren 仁), righteousness (yi 義), propriety (li 禮), and wisdom (zhi 智). Instead, “he takes the four cardinal virtues as fundamental principles and uses this newly

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formulated theoretical instrument to moralize the whole universe.” Chapter 17, “The Problem of Evil in Zhu Xi’s Thought,” deals with his “idea of evil in the context of discussion of the problem of contradiction between the factors of determinism and free choice in human behavior” by bringing in Immanuel Kant’s (1724–1804) discussion of the problem. Chapter 18 discusses Zhu Xi’s moral psychology. In this co-written chapter entitled “Moral Psychology: Heartmind (Xin), Nature (Xing), and Emotions (Qing),” the authors canvass the three concepts of nature, emotions, and heartmind, and elucidate some of the inter-relations among them, inter-relations that are captured most succinctly in Zhu’s notable claim that “the heartmind unites nature and emotions.” Chapter 19, “Zhu Xi and the Idea of One Body,” is one of the two longest chapters in this volume. While “Zhu Xi idealizes a state of existence in which one forms one body (yi ti 一體) with all things, describing the sage as being in such a state,” this chapter discusses the way he understands this idea and its philosophical implications with very detailed textual analysis. Chapter 20, “Moral Cultivation: Gongfu – Cultivation of the Person” states that during the Song–Ming period, learning about the cultivation of one’s self was widely characterized as the learning of gongfu 工夫, and holds that “it should not be taken merely as one part of Zhu Xi’s teachings next to other parts, but as a leading cord with which to grasp Zhu’s entire system. Only in grasping this cord can we see clearly why Zhu Xi selected the Four Books as the most fundamental works of the Confucian tradition, what he meant by the cosmic principle (li 理), and where he differs from other influential thinkers of his time.” In addition to the above discussions about morality, Part III also contains the following seven chapters which are about some different topics. Chapter 21, “Zhu Xi’s Ideal of Moral Politics: Theory and Practice,” attempts to argue for two main points. Firstly, Zhu Xi “was a profound and creative Neo-Confucian political thinker.” Secondly, “Zhu Xi valued what he considered his duty as a civil servant and was committed politically to actively putting into practice his vision of good governance in accordance with the political worldview of his School of Principle (li xue 理學).” Chapter 22, “Zhu Xi’s Political Philosophy in Context: With Special Focus on His Commentaries of the Four Books,” focuses on Zhu’s political philosophy and explores the assumptions and principles which determine the contents of his commentaries on the Four Books. In Chap. 23, “Zhu Xi’s Philosophy of Religion,” after a concise discussion about the disciplinary categories of “philosophy,” “religion,” and “philosophy of religion” from a cross-cultural perspective, the author explores Zhu’s understandings of ghosts, spirits, and the performance of the rites of sacrificial offerings, and finally surveys some of his personal religious practices and considers some of the political aspects of ritual praxis. Chapter 24, “Science and Natural Philosophy: Zhu Xi on the Scientific Subjects and the Natural World,” looks at different kinds of Zhu’s knowledge about the natural world (for example, calendrical astronomy, harmonics, geography, mathematics, and medicine), and discusses some of their key features. Chapter 25, “The Worldview of Zhu Xi,” explores the four basic characteristics of the philosopher’s worldview, namely, “this-worldly” monism, cyclic evolution, organicism, and the belief in a cosmic principle/grain (tianli 天理). Chapter 26, “Zhu Xi and Confucian Environmental Ethics,” aims at

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showing how Zhu can provide a different but viable proposal for the solution of our environmental problems through picturing his conception of the relation between human beings and nature and its ethical implications. Chapter 27, “Zhu Xi’s Critical Naturalism: Methodology of His Natural Knowledge and Philosophy,” calls the methodology that Zhu uses in his natural knowledge and philosophy of nature a “critical naturalism.” In addition to clarifying and interpreting this methodology, it also reveals a crucial point that “the basic idea Zhu Xi appeals to in his methodology may be summarized in what he calls ‘seeing things from things themselves (yi wu guan wu 以物觀物),’ as distinguished from ‘seeing things from oneself (yi ji guan wu 以己觀物).’” The remaining two parts will depart from a focus on Zhu Xi’s philosophy itself and draw our discussion to wider and more explicit comparative perspectives. Specifically, each of the six chapters of Part IV compares Zhu Xi with a different philosophy or religion in a one-on-one manner. The topics of Chaps. 28 and 29 are traditionally popular, namely, the comparisons between (1) Zhu Xi and Buddhism and (2) Zhu Xi and Daoism. The former, “Zhu Xi and Buddhism,” responds to the common view that Neo-Confucianism was influenced by Buddhism by arguing that the kind of Buddhism that has influenced Neo-Confucianism was the kind of Buddhism that has been seriously Sinicized or Confucianized, so that the influence by Buddhism does not necessarily mean a deviation or betrayal of classical Confucianism. The latter, “Zhu Xi and Daoism: Investigation of Inner-Meditative Alchemy in Zhu Xi’s Theory and Method for the Attainment of Sagehood,” explores a critical interpretation of some Confucian and Daoist texts, in order to show that Zhu was influenced by Daoist inner-meditative alchemy (neidan dao 內丹道). In particular, the author argues that “Zhu Xi’s approach toward the cultivation of sagehood requires an investigation and application of inner-meditative alchemical (neidan) practices.” Chapter 30, “Zhu Xi and Christianity,” the other longest chapter in this book, makes a very detailed presentation about the pre-WWII and some major post-WWII foreign Christian interpreters of Zhu Xi, highlighting those studies that explicitly apply Zhu Xi’s teachings to particular Christian issues or explore Zhu Xi’s claims from specific Christian perspectives. Similarly, Chaps. 31 and 32, “Zhu Xi and Korean Philosophy” and “Zhu Xi and Japanese Philosophy,” also explain in detail how Zhu influenced and was interpreted by his counterparts in Korea and Japan. While the former concludes that the Korean’s “search for an explanation of, and a solution to, the inevitability of human moral failure, of the inability of human beings, no matter how much they study the Confucian Classics and how well they understand them, to consistently act in a selfless manner, to act in the way their Confucian tradition tells them they should and could act, led them to construct a thoroughly Koreanized philosophy of Zhu Xi,” the latter suggests that it is through the learnings and reflections of the Japanese scholars, such as Ansai, Jinsai, and Sorai, that “Zhu Xi’s philosophy was creatively appropriated as the distinct Japanese Learnings of Zhu Xi that they are.” Chapter 33, “Zhu Xi and Western Philosophy,” takes a good angle to discuss this very broad issue. It first discusses the fundamental differences between Zhu and Western thought in natural philosophy through the notions of “substance” and “function.” Then, it contrasts

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Western approaches to abstractions with Zhu’s “investigating things.” Afterwards, it compares Western concept of “God” with Zhu’s “supreme polarity” and “li.” And finally, it contrasts the two parties’ concepts of cognition. The final part is entitled “The Contemporary Significance,” in which the seven chapters show the potential contributions that various aspects of Zhu Xi’s philosophy can make to contemporary philosophical debates. Chapter 34, “Zhu Xi and the Fact/Value Debate: How to Derive Ought from Is,” traces the development of this debate in the Anglophone and European history of philosophy, and then examines Zhu Xi’s neo-Confucian attempt to derive ought from is, arguing that this neo-­ Confucian derivation is more promising when comparing with the attempt made by contemporary Aristotelian virtue ethicists. Chapter 35, “Zhu Xi and the Liberalism/ Communitarianism Debate: An Imperfect Fit,” explores how Zhu might engage in the recent debate between liberal and communitarian philosophers concerning the nature of the human self. Interestingly, the author argues that “the fundamentally elitist worldview that emerges from this study of Zhu’s thought fits into neither the liberal nor the communitarian camp, and, further, that Zhu himself does not fit into their argument at all.” Chapter 36, “Zhu Xi’s Normative Realism and Internal Moral Realism,” places Zhu Xi’s metaphysics and moral theory in the context of contemporary debates on realism and anti-realism, aiming at reconciling “the apparent contradiction between Zhu Xi’s normative realism, which places principles in particular things themselves, and Zhu Xi’s internal moral realism, which locates moral principles within human mind.” Chapter 37, “Zhu Xi and the Debate between Internalism and Externalism,” points out that the meta-ethical discussion of internalism and externalism in Anglophone philosophical traditions has led to reflections on the relationship among reasons, moral principles, motivation, and desire. But the author thinks that the current discussion needs to be brought a step further toward a theory of moral cultivation in order to make a complete ethical theory. He, therefore, tries to show how Confucianism, especially Zhu Xi’s theory of moral cultivation, can provide us with a more adequate understanding of moral action and human conditions. Chapter 38, “Zhu Xi and the Debate between Virtue Ethicists and Situationists: Virtue Cultivation as a Possible, Practical, and Necessary Enterprise” focuses on John Doris’s version of situationist critique of virtue ethics and explicates the responses that Zhu Xi would have to defend virtue ethics. The author argues that “while Zhu could accept Doris’s claim that very few people possess robust virtues, virtue cultivation is still possible, practical, and necessary.” Chapter 39, “Zhu Xi’s Ethical Theory: Virtue Ethics Considerations and Kantian Parallels,” points out that Zhu’s account of self-cultivation, on the one hand, “has much in common with modern virtue ethics,” on the other hand, “he made additional philosophical efforts to justify and ramify Confucian cultivation and moral realization.” In making these efforts, Zhu Xi in effect sought to set forth the grounds of genuine moral agency, which in turn led to the formation of his distinctive ethical theory, “one that bears parallels with that of Immanuel Kant (1724–1804) and highlights the salience of Zhu’s contribution to ethical theory.” Chapter 40, the final chapter with the title “Zhu Xi on Self-Focused vs. Other-Focused Empathy,” is about issues in ethics and moral psychology that concern the advantages and

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disadvantages of the two different kinds of empathy, namely, “other-focused empathy” and “self-focused empathy.” Its aim is “to explicate Zhu’s view about self- and other-focused empathy as he characterized them, reconstruct his arguments for his view, and then discuss some of the implications for ethics and moral psychology more generally.” To a certain extent, we believe that this overview has shown the comprehensiveness of this book. With this up-to-date collective effort, not only do we hope that it pushes the study of Zhu Xi’s and Neo-Confucian philosophy forward within its own ambit, but also further facilitates dialogues between Chinese and non-Chinese philosophies.

References Chan, Wing-tsit. 1969. A Source Book in Chinese Philosophy. Princeton: Princeton University Press. (A celebrated classic anthology of Chinese philosophical texts with the editor’s influential translations.) Cheng, Hao 程顥, and Cheng Yi 程頤. 2004. Collection of the Two Chengs 二程集. Beijing 北 京: Zhonghua shuju 中華書局. Qian, Mu 錢穆. 2011. New Scholarly Record of Zhu Xi 朱子新學案, 5 vols. Beijing 北京: Jiuzhou chubanshe 九州出版社. (An irreplaceable classic of Zhu Xi study classifying the philosopher’s significant sayings and writings into a number of categories.) Tiwald, Justin, and Bryan W. Van Norden, eds. 2014. Readings in Later Chinese Philosophy—Han Dynasty to the 20th Century. Cambridge, MA: Hackett. Zhu, Xi 朱熹. 1994. Zhu Xi’s Classified Sayings 朱子語類. Beijing 北京: Zhonghua Book Company 中華書局. ——— 朱熹. 2010, revised ed. Zhu Xi’s Collected Papers 晦庵先生朱文公文集. In Zhu Xi’s Complete Works 朱子全書, edited by Zhu Jieren 朱傑人, Yan Zuozhi 嚴佐之, and Liu Yongxiang 劉永翔, vols. 20–25. Shanghai 上海: Shanghai guji chubanshe 上海古籍出版社; Anhui jiaoyu chubanshe 安徽教育出版社. Kai-chiu Ng is a senior lecturer at the Department of Philosophy, The Chinese University of Hong Kong. His main research interest lies in Confucianism, especially Zhu Xi’s philosophy. He is the author of Zhu Xi’s Theory of Self-Cultivation of Probing Principle (in Chinese, National Taiwan University Press, 2017).  

Part I

Zhu Xi: The Philosopher as a Commentator

Chapter 2

Zhu Xi: His Life, His Works, and the Evolving Formation of His Philosophy Jifen Li and Shiling Xiang

1 Introduction Zhu Xi 朱熹 (1130–1200) was a great philosopher, thinker, and educator in the Southern Song dynasty.1 His style name (zi 字) was Yuanhui 元晦,2 and his alias (hao 號) was Huian 晦庵.3 Zhu’s ancestral home was in Wuyuan 婺源 County, Huizhou 徽州, while he was born in Youxi 尤溪 County. Under the guidance of his father, Zhu Song 朱松 (1097–1143), Zhu Xi studied Confucianism since the age of five. After the death of his father in 1143, Zhu Xi went to live with his father’s friend, Liu Ziyu 劉子羽 (1086–1146). Zhu studied with three masters: Hu Xian 胡憲 (1086–1162), Liu Mianzhi 劉勉之 (1091–1149), and Liu Zihui 劉子翬 (1101–1147). Their interests in Buddhism and Daoism influenced Zhu at that time. Zhu Xi officially became the student of Li Tong 李侗 (1093–1163). After that, Zhu found problems in Buddhism and Daoism, and so returned to concentrate his studies on Confucianism. He inherited and further  For details of Zhu Xi’s life and works, see Wang (1998), Shu (1992, 2001), Zhang L. (2013).  In ancient China, a style name is a name given to Chinese males at adulthood, and sometimes also given to females upon marriage. 3  In ancient China, people not only had the family name and style name, but also alias which served as a good or respectful name. In 1170, Zhu Xi built an academy called “Han Quan Jing She” 寒泉 精舍 in Jian’yang 建陽. He named it as “Huian” 晦庵, which also became his alias (Zhang L. 2013: 12). 1 2

J. Li (*) School of Philosophy, Renmin University of China, Beijing, People’s Republic of China e-mail: [email protected] S. Xiang School of Chinese Classics, Renmin University of China, Beijing, People’s Republic of China e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2020 K.-c. Ng, Y. Huang (eds.), Dao Companion to ZHU Xi’s Philosophy, Dao Companions to Chinese Philosophy 13, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-29175-4_2

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d­ eveloped the thoughts of the Cheng Brothers, eventually forming an influential philosophical system, called “The Learning of Principle” (li xue 理學).4 Zhu Xi wrote many books in his life, which include the following: Collected Commentaries on the Four Books in Chapters and Sentences (Sishu zhangju jizhu 四書章句集注), Original Meaning of the Book of Changes (Zhouyi benyi 周易本 義),5 Introduction to the Study of the Book of Changes (Yixue qimeng 易學啟蒙), Collection of Commentaries on the Book of Poems (Shi jizhuan 詩集傳), and other writings later collected in Collected Writings of Zhu Wen Gong (Zhuwengong wenji 朱文公文集). In addition, his many conversations with his students and others are recorded in well as his conversations with Classified Conversations of Master Zhu (Zhuzi yulei 朱子語類). Though Zhu started his political career when he was very young, he did not have a long official career. In 1148, he passed the national civil service examination and earned the title of a “excellent scholar” (jin shi 進士).6 Zhu subsequently served four rulers: Emperor Gaozong 高宗 (1107–1187), Emperor Xiaozong 孝宗 (1127–1194), Emperor Guangzong 光宗 (1147–1200), and Emperor Ningzong 寧 宗 (1168–1224). In his later life, Zhu suffered from political repression and was condemned as a member of “false-learning and the rebellious eunuch group” (wei xue ni dang ji 偽學逆黨籍) (Zhang L. 2013: 773–74). Other than reading, revising, and writing books, Zhu Xi liked traveling throughout his life. Whenever he went to a place, he liked hiking, went to visit temples, and spoke to scholars there (Zhang L. 2013: 761–75).

2 Zhu Xi’s Early Education 2.1 Early Life Zhu Xi was born at Zheng Andao Guanshe 鄭安道館舍, located in Youxi 尤溪 (also called Shenxi 沈溪 at the time) County, Nanjian 南劍 district on September 15, 1130. His father was Zhu Song, and his mother was Zhu Wuniang 祝五娘 (1100–1169). Zhu had many infant names, such as Shenlang 沈郎, which was named after his birthplace (Zhang L. 2013: 11). At first, Zhu styled himself as Jiyan 季延. “Ji” means the youngest child of the same generation in the family, and “yan” means “Yanping” 延平, which was the other name of Nanjian district (Zhang  There are many different translations of li 理, such as “law,” “principle,” “pattern,” and so on. Stephen C. Angle prefers to translate li as “coherence,” which means “the valuable, intelligible way that things fit together” (Angle 2009: 31–33). In this chapter, we choose the most widely used translation, i.e., “principle,” which means “the rule to be conformed to.” 5  Zhouyi 周易 always means The Book of Changes in Zhou dynasty. “Zhou” means the Zhou dynasty, and also “circulating and widespreading.” “Yi” means “changes.” 6  Jinshi is a title for a successful candidate in the highest imperial examination. It means that the candidate had the qualification of holding a public office. 4

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L. 2013: 11). Later, in 1147, “Jiyan” was changed to “Yuanhui” 元晦 by his teacher, Liu Zihui, hoping Zhu to become a cautious and humble person (Zhang L. 2013: 11; Wang 1998: 5). The last name is popular now as Zhu Xi’s Chinese style name. After Zhu Xi was born, his family moved to many places, including Jianzhou 建 州, Fuzhou 福州, and Quanzhou 泉州, to avoid disorders and chaos caused by wars (Zhang L. 2013: 761). Even though Zhu’s family moved frequently, his parents placed much importance on his education. Zhu Xi was very smart from an early age (Wang 1998: 2; Chen 2000: 21). There are two famous stories about his early life. The first one is about his question about the sky (Tuo 1985: [36] 12751). One day when Zhu Xi was four, his father, Zhu Song, pointed to the sky with his fingers and told him that it was “sky.” Then Zhu Xi asked, “What was on or behind the sky?” This attempt to unveil the secret of nature was indeed surprising given his age. The other story is about his drawing of the eight diagrams (ba gua 八卦), which are very complicated and subtly interrelated within Daoism and Confucianism. When Zhu played with his companions in Jianning 建寧, it is claimed that Zhu drew the eight diagrams on the sand beaches. He was only 8 years old at that time (Zhu 1986: [6] 2377; Tuo 1985: [36] 12751). Even if these two stories are not necessarily true, Zhu’s own words on his childhood educational development also indicated that he liked to make inquiries on things to which others took for granted (Chen 2000: 20–21). Zhu Xi’s parents made a great effort to provide him with a good educational environment. For example, when Zhu went back to You’xi County with his father in 1134 at the age of five,7 he was sent to a primary school to start reciting the Classic of Filial Piety (Xiaojing 孝經), and began reading the Four Books (Sishu 四書). In 1138, his family moved to Lin’an 臨安, and Zhu started to study under Yang Youyi 楊由義 (Shu 1992: 14–17). When Zhu was 11 years old, he received instruction from his father in Huanxi 環溪 Vihara (jing she 精舍). It was during the time he studied under his father that Zhu laid a foundation for studying the thoughts of the Cheng brothers. Zhu Song and his experences influenced Zhu Xi in his early years (Shu 1992: 23). Zhu Song himself first focused his study on literature during his early life. And then, he was interested in studying history. In his later years, Zhu Song became a student of Luo Congyan 羅從彥 (1072–1135), who was a successor of the Cheng brothers’ school. Since then, Zhu Song paid attention to the teachings of He 河 and Luo 洛, focusing on the theory of li 理 (principle).8 Zhu Song was ousted from his position as a county sheriff not very long after the birth of Zhu Xi. Since then, he made more effort on his son’s education. Zhu Song’s interests in history and the thoughts of the Cheng brother have a profound influence on Zhu Xi, as these were what Zhu read and recited in his childhood. In 1143, Zhu Xi’s father passed away.  This age refers to Zhu Xi’s nominal age (xu sui 虛歲). In ancient China, when one is born, he/she is viewed as being 1 year old. This is different from the way of counting one’s actual age in the modern world, in which he or she is 0 year old after birth. 8  The term He refers to the Yellow River (Huang He 黃河), and Luo refers to Luo River (Luo He 洛 河). These were places where the Cheng Brothers lived. 7

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2.2 Studying with Three Masters Before his death, Zhu Song entrusted his wife and the young Zhu Xi to Liu Ziyu (Wang 1998: 4). Since then, Zhu and his mother lived at the foot of the mountain of Ping 屏, near the river of Tan 潭. Later, they moved to Wufuli 五夫里, Chong’an 崇 安 County, and Zhu went to the private school funded by the family of Liu. Under the guidance of three masters (to be discussed in the next paragraph), Zhu Xi passed the public examination held by the District and County in Jian’zhou in 1147 (Wang 1998: 6). At that time, Zhu was at his age of 18, an early age to pass the examination in that time. In 1148, Zhu Xi went to the city of Lin’an to attend the provincial examination and again he passed it (Zhang L. 2013: 762). In April of the same year, Zhu passed the highest imperial examination and earned the Jinshi degree, which gave him his candidacy for public office (Wang 1998: 6; Zhang L. 2013: 762). After the death of his father, Zhu Xi studied under three masters, Hu Xian, Liu Zihui, and Liu Mianzhi. Under their guidance, Zhu focused on learning the Cheng Brothers’ philosophy of li (principle). For example, he began reading books of the Cheng Brothers and Zhang Zai 張載 (1020–1077). He worked very hard on reading the four books, and began reading The Explanations on the Doctrine of the Mean (Zhongyong jie 中庸解) written by Lü Dalin 呂大臨 (1040–1092) as well as The Rites of Zhou (Zhouli 周禮) (Zhang L. 2013: 761; Chen 2000: 26–27). Zhu read extensively at that time—not only Confucianism, but also Daoism and Buddhism (Zhang L. 2013: 761). Though his three masters were interested in Buddhism, their impacts on Zhu were mainly on the Confucian side (Chen 2000: 25–33). Still, their Buddhist background provided Zhu with opportunities to interact with Buddhists. Beyond these, Zhu also started to read history books. For example, in 1150, Zhu Xi read two books, Exploring Emptiness (Qianxu 潛虛) and Explanations of the Book of Changes (Yishuo 易說), written by the famous historian Sima Guang 司馬光 (1019–86),9 which helped Zhu recognize the importance of reading history. Obviously, Zhu Xi’s thoughts were deeply influenced by the three masters. Most importantly, as they themselves studied the Cheng brothers’ writings, they often discussed with each other their understandings of the Chengs’ ideas (Chen 2000: 23–25). Zhu’s reading and understanding of the ideas of the Cheng brothers were advanced significantly during these 4–5 years as he studied under the three masters. For example, Liu Zihui’s emphasis on the “steps of learning” (wei xue ci di 為學次 第) was important for Zhu’s understanding of “learning for oneself” (wei ji zhi xue 為己之學) (Chen 2000: 25–26). Liu Mianzhi did not have a son, and so he treated Zhu as his own son. Liu even let his only daughter, Liu Qingsi 劉清四 (1130–1176), marry Zhu (Zhang L. 2013: 762). Under the guidance of these three masters, Zhu

 Exploring Emptiness is a book about the origin of the world, which was regarded as emptiness (Xu 虛). It included philosophical annotations, diagrams, and so on. Explanations of the Book of Changes provided different way of explaining the meaning of “changes.” It was believed that Sima Guang himself did finish this book, which was lost later. 9

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worked very hard on reading Confucian classics, and he finally got an official post after passing the examinations. During this period of time, Zhu Xi not only studied the original text of Confucian classics and the commentaries on them, but also became interested in Buddhism and Daoism.10 For example, Liu Zihui practiced mediation, and he argued that Confucianism was compatible with Buddhism and Daoism (Chen 2000: 29). Undoubtedly, Liu’s contact with Buddhists and Daoists provided Zhu with many opportunities to learn more about these schools of thougths. Consequently, Zhu Xi studied Buddhist and Daoist texts for about 10 years, influencing the formation of his theory of principle during his later life.11

3 Evolution and Formation of Zhu Xi’s Ideas It is commonly accepted that Zhu Xi’s ideas reached maturity by the age of 37 (1166) (Chen 2000: 19). His “Realizing the Truth of the Balance and Harmony in Year of Jichou (ji chou zhong he zhi wu 己丑中和之悟)” in 1169 indicates formation of his main philosophical ideas (Chen 2000: 19). In this process, Zhu was influenced by the writing of many scholars, the most prominent among them being Li Tong, Zhou Dunyi 周敦頤 (1017–1073), the Cheng brothers, and Zhang Zai. Each of these scholars’ lives and works will be described to show how they influenced the formation and development of Zhu’s philosophy.

3.1 The Influence of Li Tong Li Tong, also called Master Yanping 延平, inherited thoughts and ideas from the Cheng Brothers. When he was young, he followed Yang Shi 楊時 (1053–1123), who was a disciple of the Cheng brothers, and Yang’s student, Luo Congyan (Wang 1983: 18; Chen 2000: 45). Li argued that Confucianism was significantly different from Buddhism and Daoism in its view on the relationship between universality and particularity—“the principle is the ultimate basis and it pervades every particular things (li yi fen shu 理一分殊)” (Wang 1983: 15; Zhang L. 2013: 96). Zhu Xi first visited Li Tong in 1153, on his way to Tong’an County to take up the office of zhu bu 主簿, the county sheriff (Wang 1983: 9–10; Zhang L. 2013: 762). After completing his term, Zhu returned to Chong’an in 1158, and visited Li again (Wang 1983: 15; Zhang L. 2013: 763). During this time, Zhu continued his

 Chen Lai 陳來 provided details of Zhu Xi’s contact with such Buddhists as Daoqian 道謙, Dahui 大慧, and others (Chen 2000:30–31). 11  More information about the influences of Buddhism and Daoism on Zhu Xi can be found in Zhang L. (2013: 607–29). 10

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extensive reading of Confucian classics, and he exchanged his ideas with others including Li Tong and Hu Xian by mail. Subsequently, in 1160, Zhu travelled to Yan’ping and became a student of Li Tong. During the early years of studying under the three masters, Zhu Xi was interested in Buddhism and Daoism, but his view changed dramatically after he met Li Tong and became one of his students. Whenever Zhu Xi talked about Buddhism, Li criticized it. At the beginning, Zhu Xi doubted Li’s understandings of Buddhism. But after studying under his guidance for several years, Zhu Xi gradually understood that there were major problems in Buddhism and Daoism. Zhu came to agree with Li and realized that Confucianism was ultimately the right way to follow (Chen 2000: 35–37). After that period, Zhu focused on the studies of Confucianism, and spent less time studying Buddhism and Daoism. Li Tong’s thoughts and ideas consequently had a great influence on the formation of Zhu Xi’s mature ideas. Zhu Xi collected his correspondences with Li Tong to compile a book, Yanping’s Answers to Questions (Yanping dawen 延平答問) (Chen 2000: 44; Zhang L. 2013: 232). In the book, their discussions cover a wide range of philosophical topics, including universality and particularity of principle, self-­ cultivation, ways of acquiring heavenly principle (tian li 天理) by quiet sitting for the sake of the clarity of heart-mind (mo zuo cheng xin, ti ren tian li 默坐澄心, 體 認天理) (Chen 2000: 44–72). In his studies under and discussions with Li Tong, Zhu started to form his philosophical system centered on the works of the Cheng Brothers (Wang 1998: 15). After Li’s death in 1163, Zhu started to write and collate more classics. For example, in 1166, Zhu Xi collated Conversations of the Two Chengs (Ercheng yulu 二程語錄) and proofread Collected Writings of the Two Chengs (Erchengji 二程集).

3.2 The Influence of Zhou Dunyi Explanations of the Diagram of the Great Ultimate (Taiji tushuo 太極圖說) was a book written by Zhou Dunyi to explain The Diagram of the Great Ultimate (Taijitu 太極圖).12 Presented in a clear and succinct writing style, it demonstrated Zhou’s philosophical ideas very well. Although the book had hardly any influence in the Northern Song period, it did arouse Zhu Xi’s keen interest (Zhu 2002: [24] 3652–54; Zhang L. 2013: 231). “The great ultimate” (tai ji 太極) was a key concept for Zhou Dunyi. Explanations of the Diagram of the Great Ultimate begins with “the Non-ultimate yet the great ultimate (wu ji er tai ji 無極而太極),” the meaning of which is not clear. What do non-ultimate and great ultimate mean? What is their relationship? Some scholars  According to Zhu Zhen 朱震 (1072–1138) and Hu Hong, The Diagram of the Great Ultimate was written by a Daoist called Chen Tuan 陳摶. Chen showed the diagram to Mu Xiu 穆修, who further passed it to Zhou Dunyi. However, the validity of this claim is in doubt, as Mu died in 1032, when Zhou was only about 10 years old. Shu Jingnan argued that Mu Xiu showed the diagram to Zhang Boduan 張伯端, from whom Zhu Xi got the diagram. Zhang Boduan was the founder of the Ziyang 紫陽 school in Daoism (Shu 1992: 278). 12

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like Hong Mai 洪邁 (1123–1202) even proposed that it meant the great ultimate was originated from the non-ultimate, so that in the original version of the Explanations of the Diagram of the Great Ultimate it should be “from the nonultimate to that of the great ultimate (zi wu ji er wei tai ji 自無極而為太極)” (Zhu 1986: [6] 2369–70).13 Zhu Xi argued against the claim that the great ultimate is something developed from the non-ultimate. For him, the words “from (zi 自)” and “non- (wu 無)” were added into the book by other scholars. The great ultimate refers to principle (li 理), and “non-” emphasized that the principle does not have any form (Zhu 1986, vol. 6: 2365–66). Therefore, according to Zhu, the meaning of the phrase should be: “There are no forms but principle” (wu xing er you li 無形而有理) (Shu 1992: 663–84). The proper understanding of the non-ultimate and the great ultimate were debated fiercely by Zhu Xi and other scholars, such as Lu Jiuyuan 陸九淵 (1139–1193) (Tillman 2009). For Lu Jiuyuan, the concept of the non-ultimate was meaningless. It never appeared in the classics, and ancient sages such as Confucius had already described the ultimate basis as soundless and odorless (wu sheng wu xiu 無聲無臭). There was no need to describe the great ultimate again as “non-ultimate.” Lu Jiuyuan further pointed out that the concept of the non-ultimate was more derived from Daoists, rather than Confucians. However, Zhu Xi disagreed with Lu Jiuyuan. For Zhu, the non-ultimate was a new concept that Zhou Dunyi brought into “the learning of Dao” (daoxue 道學), perfectly describing the character of the great ultimate. Even so, Zhu Xi still failed to explain the relation between Daoism and that diagram of the great ultimate with its accompanying concept of the non-ultimate (Tillman 2009: 234–40). In order to avoid a misunderstanding of Zhou Dunyi, Zhu Xi wrote his commentaries on Zhou’s Explanations of the Diagram of the Great Ultimate. In 1187, he completed his first book on this work, Explantions on Penetrating the Book (Tongshujie 通書解) (Zhang L. 2013: 770). In 1188, Zhu completed the second book, Commentaries on Explanations of the Diagram of the Great Ultimate (Taiji tushuojie 太極圖說解), which he later showed to scholars and students (Zhang L. 2013: 770–71). Generally speaking, in his Commentaries on Explanations of the Diagram of the Great Ultimate, Zhu Xi focused on two aspects. The first was the relation between “principle” and “vital force” (qi 氣).14 The second was the relation between human nature (xing 性) and vital force, in which Zhu focused on explaining the problem of heart-mind (xin 心) and human nature. Subsequently, this book was included in the Completed Works of Master Zhu (Zhuzi quanshu 朱子全書) as its thirteenth volume. By editing and commenting on Zhou’s books, Zhu Xi developed his own ideas about principle, especially its movement. To explain the great ultimate, Zhou Dunyi used the pair of concepts, yin 陰 and yang 陽. According to Zhou, “the great ulti Zhang Liwen agreed with Hong Mai, arguing that the addition of the two words of “zi” 自 and “wei” 為 was compatible with the philosophical system of Zhou Dunyi (Zhang L. 1992: 231). 14  Qi has many different traslations. It has also been translated as “material force,” “energy,” “pneuma,” “humours,” “breath,” “vapour.” To emphasize the moral role of qi within the human constitution, the authors of this chapter prefer the translation of “vital force.” 13

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mate moves and generates yang 陽, and when it moves to the ultimate, it becomes still and generates yin 陰” (tai ji dong er sheng yang, dong ji er jing, jing er sheng yin 太極動而生陽, 動極而靜, 靜而生陰). In commenting on this sentence, Zhu Xi wrote, “‘The great ultimate’ refers to the marvelous root, and ‘movement and stillness’ are the mechanism on which [the great ultimate] manifests (gai tai ji zhe, ben ren zhi miao ye; dong jing zhe, suo cheng zhi ji ye 蓋太極者, 本然之妙也; 動靜者, 所乘之機也” (Zhou 2009: 4). That is, Zhu further understood the relation between principle and vital force from the perspective of movement and stillness. To describe it, Zhu Xi later proposed a famous metaphor, which was that the principle was riding the vital force in the same way that humans ride horses (Zhu 1986: [6] 374). However, it is not clear whether Zhu Xi really believes that principle moves. For example, Zhu Xi also argued that principle could only be actualized by yin and yang in their movement and stillness (Zhu 1986: [6] 2374). That is, principle belonged to the metaphysical world, and whenever the digram refered to movement and stillness, it was principle’s manifestation in the ordinary world. Therefore, it seems that for Zhu Xi principle itself does not move (Chen 2000: 100–110). According to this perspective on the immobility of principle, Zhu Xi’s metaphor of riding a horse should be easily portrayed as a dead man riding a living horse. Actually, Cao Duan 曹端 (1376–1434) in the Ming dynasty had already raised this question (Cao 2003: 23–24). Cao disagreed with the idea that principle was “dead” or “immobile.” According to him, Zhu Xi also argued that principle rode vital force like a man riding a horse. The horse came in and went out, and accordingly the man also came in and went out. Likewise, principle also had movement and was not dead. Cao asked further, if the principle for Zhu Xi was dead, how could it be the origin of all things in the world? Cao was right in arguing for the living character of principle. Another of Zhu Xi’s arguments also supported what Cao argued. Zhu wrote, “The two [principle and vital force] always depend on each other and are not seperated from each other (er zhe chang xiang yi er wei chang xiang li ye 二者常相依而未嘗相離也)” (Zhu 1986: [6] 2374). The man and the horse depend on each other, and so must both be alive. If the man is dead, how could he rides a horse? How then could the horse always depend on him? (Xiang 2015: 109–12). Zhu Xi’s explanations of Zhou Dunyi’s text, together with his debates with others on such concepts as the great ultimate, are of unquestionable importance for the formation of his philosophy. It was because of the Diagram of the Great Ultimate that Zhu Xi finally established his whole account involving principle and vital force. Therefore, Zhu Xi often praised Zhou Dunyi in his works.

3.3 The Influence of Zhang Zai Zhu Xi’s understanding of great ultimate was closely connected with his theory of vital force and principle, which were mainly influenced by Zhang Zai and the two Chengs. Zhang Zai viewed vital force as the ultimate basis of the universe (Zhang

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Z. 1978: 7–10), and the two Chengs first proposed the concept of principle. Based on their arguments, Zhu Xi further elaborated on the relation between principle and vital force, which became the foundation of his theory of principle. Zhang Zai viewed vital force as the metaphysical basis of the universe (Zhang Z. 1978). Vital force had two states. The original state was called great vagueness (tai xu 太虛), which was also viewed as the substance of vital force (Zhang Z. 1978: 66). The gathering of great vagueness led to the formation of vital force and then the formation of things in the world. Vital force was the temporary form of great vagueness. Things separated and returned to the form of vital force, which separated and returned to the form of great vagueness (Zhang Z. 1978: 7–10). Although Zhu Xi disagreed with Zhang Zai’s argument that vital force was the metaphysical basis of the universe, he did accept Zhang’s idea that there was a metaphysical basis of the universe. For Zhu, this metaphysical basis was principle, rather than vital force (Zhu 1986: [7] 2533). Although Zhu Xi did not view vital force as the ultimate basis, he did emphasize its importance in his theory of principle, as, for him, things in the world was composed of principle and vital force. Nevertheless, he did not make it absolutely clear as for the relationship between principle and the vital force. Some scholars such as Chen Lai 陳來 argued that ultimately speaking, for Zhu, there was a sequence between principle and force, i.e., vital force comes after principle, as Zhu in his late life argued that it would be better to say that vital force logically comes after principle (Chen 2000: 128–29). However, this logical sequence, we argue, could not work for the relationship between principle and vital force in ordinary life (Xiang 2015: 105). That is, the sequence between principle and vital force could only be discussed in the metaphysical world. In ordinary life, there was no sequential problem between principle and vital force. In talking about human nature, Zhang Zai argued that there were two kinds of nature (Zhang Z. 1978: 23). One was the nature of Heaven and Earth (tian di zhi xing 天地之性), and the other was the nature of material stuff (qi zhi zhi xing 氣質 之性). Everything in the world, including human beings, is naturaly endowed with the nature of Heaven and Earth from birth. The difference between human beings and things, such as plants and animals, lies in the nature of the material stuff they have (Zhang Z. 1978: 21–23). Zhang Zai’s differentiation of two kinds of nature was praised both by the Cheng brothers and Zhu Xi (Zhu 1986: [1] 70). Zhu argued that this differentiation developed Mengzi’s theory of human nature and made it clearer in understanding the different accounts of human nature in history. These included Xunzi’s 荀子 (313 BCE–238 BCE) account of bad human nature, Yang Xiong’s 揚雄 (53 BCE–18 CE) account of human nature being combined with both badness and goodness, and Han Yu’s 韓愈 (768–824) account of human nature being differentiated as three grades, i.e., the high grade, the moderate grade, and the low grade. For Zhu Xi, these accounts of human nature were only about the nature of material stuff, rather than the nature of Heaven and Earth, which, he argued, must be good, and was the substance of human nature (Zhu 1986: [1] 70; [4] 1353). Western Inscription (Ximing 西銘) was written by Zhang Zai. Zhu Xi highly regarded it together with Zhou Dunyi’s Explanations of the Diagram of the Great

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Ultimate. Zhu Xi not only wrote commentaries on it in 1170 but also started to write several books to elaborate on it in the same year (Zhang L. 2013: 765). Zhu Xi revised Explanation of Western Inscriptions (Ximingjie 西銘解) in 1172 (Zhang L. 2013: 765). It was not until 1188 that Zhu Xi finished Theoretical Explanations of Western Descriptions (Ximing jieyi 西銘解義), and he started to show this book together with Commentaries on Explanations of the Diagram of the Great Ultimate to others for teaching (Zhang L. 2013: 771). Zhu Xi thought highly of Western Inscription, as it influenced him in many aspects. For example, Zhang Zai proposed the argument that everything in the world was in one whole body (Zhang Z. 1978: 62). To explain this argument, the two Chengs developed the argument of the universality and particularity of principle, which was later further developed by Zhu Xi. For Zhu, principle was the ultimate basis, which pervaded every particular thing in the world (Zhu 1986: [7] 2520–26). Zhang Zai also presented another important argument in Western Inscription, which was the claim that people were all my brothers and things in the world were all my friends (min bao wu yu 民胞物與) (Zhang Z. 1978: 62–63). This argument for universal love greatly influenced Zhu Xi’s understanding of benevolence from the perspective of the universality and particularity of principle, in which Zhu Xi developed his theory of human nature and human dispositions (Zhu 1986: [7] 2524–25). In sum, although Zhu Xi disagreed with Zhang Zai in viewing vital force as the ultimate basis, he did absorb a number of of Zhang Zai’s ideas to form his own philsophy, such as his emphasis on vital force and his argument of the two kinds of nature. For Zhu Xi, Zhang Zai, together with Zhou Dunyi, were both important Confucian thinkers in Confucian orthodoxy.

3.4 The Influence of the Two Chengs Under the influence of his father, Zhu Xi learnt the thoughts of the two Chengs since he was very young. In the formation of Zhu Xi’s thoughts, the Cheng brothers’ influence was significant and therefore could not be ignored. Principle was a concept first proposed by the two Chengs (Cheng and Cheng 2004: [2] 424), and Zhu Xi further developed it into a sophisticated theory of principle. NeoConfucianism in Song and Ming dynasties was also called “Cheng and Zhu’s Theory of Principle” in the history of Confucianism. A number of Zhu Xi’s other ideas, such as his theory of human nature and human dispositions and his views of the Four Books, were closely connected with the two Chengs’ thoughts. In commenting on the writings of the two Chengs together with those of Zhou Dunyi and Zhang Zai, Zhu Xi finally established his own theory of principle.

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3.4.1 The Compilation of the Works of the Two Chengs Zhu Xi viewed the Cheng Brothers as the true successors of the thoughts of Kongzi and Mengzi, thus he paid much attention to compiling and commenting on their works. These compilations took up a significant amount of time of Zhu Xi. After the death of the Chengs, their disciples wrote books and papers to record their words, conversations, and behaviors. However those records were not organized and not edited with any specific theme. In view of this, Zhu Xi re-arranged these records and compiled them as a new book. In 1166, Conversations of the Two Chengs was compiled by Zhu Xi (Zhang L. 2013: 764). In 1168, Zhu Xi compiled the book of Surviving Works of the Chengs (Chengshi yishu 程氏遺書), which was later revised and reprinted in Quanzhou 泉州 (Zhang L. 2013: 764–65). And in 1170, Zhu Xi revised this book again, which was later reprinted by Zheng Boxiong 鄭伯熊 in Jianning (Zhang L. 2013: 765). In 1175, Zhu Xi, together with Lü Zuqian 呂祖謙 (1137–1181), deleted some parts of this book and renamed it Mottos of Master Chengs (Chengzi geyan 程子格言) (Zhang L. 2013: 766). This book mainly collected the words, arguments, and conversations of the two Chengs. In 1173, Zhu Xi compiled the book of Supplementary Works of the Chengs (Chengshi waishu 程氏外書) (Zhang L. 2013: 766), which continued his efforts to compile the words, arguments, and conversations of the Chengs. However, according to his comments on the contents of this book, the authenticity of the sources of materials and records were in doubt (Wang 1998: 61). Disciples of the Chengs recorded many works of the Cheng Brothers and compiled them together as a new book. In 1166, Zhu Xi discussed with Zhang Shi 張 栻 (1133–1180) and Liu Gong 劉珙 (1122–1178) about the revisions of Collected Works of the Two Cheng Masters (Ercheng xiansheng wenji 二程先生文集), which led him to the revision of Collected Works of the Two Chengs by himself later (Zhang L. 2013: 766). Collected Works of the Two Chengs not only included parts of Surviving Works of the Chengs and Supplementary Works of the Chengs, but also others such as papers and poems of the Chengs, the Chengs’ commentaries on the classics, and the Chengs’ studies of The Book of Changes. In compiling the works of the Chengs, Zhu Xi went deeper in understanding the thoughts of the two Chengs. Among them, the two Chengs’ understanding of classics influenced Zhu Xi greatly. 3.4.2 The Studies of Classics Zhu Xi studied the Confucian Classics since he was very young. In their reading and reciting the Confucian Classics, the four books, namely, the Analects (Lunyu 論 語), the Mencius (Mengzi 孟子), the Great Learning (Daxue 大學), and the Doctrine of the Mean (Zhongyong 中庸), were those for which he spent most time and efforts. Based on the Cheng Brother’s commentaries, Zhu Xi edited the four books again and again for many years. This further developed his philosophy of principle.

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Zhu Xi viewed the Analects and the Mencius as the core of the philosophy of the Six Classics (Liujing 六經). He started to collect the commentaries of the Mencius when he went to Tong’an County for the public office. Zhu finished the draft of the Collections of Commentaries on the Mencius in 1160. However, Zhu was not satisfied with this draft because the meaning of many concepts or statements were still unclear, such as “nurturing the force” (yang  qi 養氣) and “human nature” (Shu 1992: 296). In discussing with scholars like Zhang Shi, He Hao 何鎬 (1128–1175), Lü Zuqian, and Cai Yuanding 蔡元定 (1135–1198), Zhu collected more commentaries into his Collections. Similarly, Zhu also collected commentaries on the Analects and revised them many times. In 1171, his collections of commentaries on the two classics were finished, and in 1172, Zhu put them together as Essential Meanings of the Analects and the Mencius (Lunmeng jingyi 論孟精義) (Zhang L. 2013: 765). This book was also named the Basic Meanings of the Analects and the Mencius (Lunmeng yaoyi 論孟要義), or the Collected Meanings of the Analects and the Mencius (Lunmeng jiyi 論孟集義) (Zhang L. 2013: 231). For Zhu, this book was necessary for reading the two classics, as it was an extensive collection of their commentaries. There were totally 20 volumes on the Analects, and 14 on the Mencius, together with an overview for each text. The overviews however did not constitute a volume. Among all commentators, Zhu regarded the Cheng brothers as the most important. For Zhu, the Cheng Brothers not only inherited the ideas of Kongzi and Mengzi but developed them further; therefore, their roles in developing Confucianism were of great significance and must not be ignored (Zhang L. 2013: 231). 3.4.3 Zhu Xi’s Change of the Interpretation of “The Balance and Harmony” (zhong he 中和) Zhu Xi’s understanding of the Analects and the Mencius changed substantially in 1169, due to the different interpretation of “the balance and harmony” (zhong he 中 和) he adopted (Wang 1998: 38–47).15 The concept of “balance and harmony” is from The Doctrine of the Mean. This book states that “the state prior to the development or emergence of feelings such as happiness or anger, sorrow or joy, refers to that of balance” (xi nu ai le wei fa wei zhi Zhong 喜怒哀樂未發謂之中). And it also states that “the state of the feelings’ proper development or emergence refers to that of harmony” (fa er jie zhong jie wei zhi he 發而皆中節謂之和). Scholars from Cheng Hao to Yang Shi, Luo Congyan and Li Tong all focused on the understanding of “the state prior to the development of feelings” (wei fa 未發). According to them, one needs to realize this state by being still, which is “the key method [to self-cultivation] following the Way’s heading south (dao nan zhi jue 道南指訣).”16  Zhang Liwen and Chen Lai provide detailed discussions on Zhu Xi’s understanding of “the balance and harmony” (Zhang L. 1981: 434–40; Chen 2000:157–60). 16  When Yang Shi left Cheng Hao and was going to the south, Cheng Hao said that his Way was heading south. 15

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Zhu Xi’s interest in “the state prior to the development of feelings” emerged when he studied under Li Tong (Wang 1998: 40–41; Chen 2000: 160). However, at that time, Zhu Xi still found it too difficult to understand. And, for Zhu, even the two Chengs and their disciples also had difficulty understanding it. Their views on this issue were vague, and they did not agree with each other either. After the death of Li, Zhu further discussed this concept with Zhang Shi, who saw it as a means of self-cultivation. Zhang Shi agreed with Hu Hong 胡宏 (1106–1162) that human nature was a substance, which belonged to the non-­ developed realm, i.e., “the balance (zhong 中).” And the heart-mind was its manifestation, which belonged to the developed realm, i.e., “harmony (he 和).” Zhang emphasized that one first needed to examine and recognize the movement of the heart-mind in the developed realm and then nurture it. This was called “to examine (the movement of heart-mind) and then exercize self-restraint” (xian cha shi hou han yan 先察識後涵養). In 1166, Zhu Xi proposed his first understanding of balance and harmony in his letters written to Zhang Shi (Wang 1998: 27–31). This is called “Realization in the Year of Bingxu” (bing xu zhi wu 丙戌之悟).17 Zhu argued that the state prior to the development of feelings was the state of human nature, rather than that of heart-­ mind. Human nature refered to the substance, and dispositions refered to the manifestation of heart-mind, which was the state of development into feelings. In 1167, Zhu Xi visited Zhang Shi in Tanzhou 潭州, where he debated with Zhang on the theory of “balance and harmony” for 2 months (Zhang L. 2013: 764). He accepted Zhang’s idea in their debates. However, this first proposal was overturned by Zhu Xi himself only 2 years later. The biggest change was about the status of heart-mind. This change was commonly known as “Realizing the Truth of the Balance and Harmony in the Year of Jichou” (ji chou zhong he zhi wu 己丑中和之悟).18 In 1169, Zhu Xi started to question Zhang’s understanding that heart-mind belongs to the developed realm (Wang 1998: 38–40; Zhu 2002: [23] 3266–69). Zhu realized that dispositions, rather than heart-mind, belonged to the developed realm and were the manifestation. “Wei fa 未發” and “yi fa 已發” did not refer to the structure of substance and manifestation, but that of two states of heart-mind. “Wei fa” refered to the state of non-development of heart-mind, and “yi fa” refered to the state of development of heart-mind. Second, heart-mind metaphysically united human nature (substance) and human disposition (manifestation). According to this understanding, Zhu Xi changed the sequence of cultivation that Zhang Shi ­proposed. For Zhu Xi, one first needed to nurture the heart-mind, and then one  Bingxu 丙戌, or the year of Bingxuin Chinese calendar, is the twenty-third in the sixty-year stems-branches sexagenary cycle in Chinese calendar. Here it indicates 1166 CE. Wang Maohong argued that Zhu Xi’s realization happened in Bingxu (Wang 1998), but Qian Mu 錢穆 argued that it happened in 1168 (Qian 2011, vol. 2: 225–64). Chen Lai examined Zhu Xi’s letters to Zhang Shi in detail and inferred that 1166 would be more reasonable (Chen 2000: 166–70). 18  Jichou 己丑, again, or the year of Jichou, is the twenty-six in the sixty-year stems-branches sexagenary cycle in Chinese calendar. Here it indicates 1169 CE. 17

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further moved to examine and recognize the movement of heart-mind in self-cultivation. By changing the interpretation of “balance and harmony,” Zhu Xi further developed the theory of heart-mind and human nature. Zhu modified Hu Hong’s and Zhang Shi’s idea that human nature was substance and heart-mind was manifestation into that human nature was substance and human disposition was manifestation. For Zhu, heart-mind was the union of human nature and human disposition. One accordingly needed to let heart-mind lead the development of human nature and dispositions in self-cultivation, which later became the guideline of Zhu Xi’s theory of heart-mind and human nature. This change was important for the theory of cultivation of heart-mind and human nature in Zhu’s theory of principle. 3.4.4 Zhu Xi’s Understanding of Benevolence (Ren 仁) Zhu Xi’s change of understanding of the balance and harmony also influenced his understanding of benevolence, which was another important topic discussed by Zhu Xi with other scholars like Zhang Shi.19 In 1171, Zhang Shi compiled the book Arguments about Benevolence in Zhusi (Zhusi yanrenlu 洙泗言仁錄), which was criticized by Zhu Xi (Chen 2000: 189). Zhu pointed out that Kongzi and Mengzi only presented vague words about benevolence, and scholars before the Cheng Brothers had no idea about the meaning of the term. In 1172, Zhu wrote Explanation on Benevolence (Ren shuo 仁說) to present what he believed to be the most accurate understanding of benevolence (Zhu 2002: [23] 3279–81).20 In the book, Zhu claimed that the definition of benevolence firstly should be “the creative heart-mind of Heaven and Earth” (tian di sheng wu zhi xin 天地生物之心), which was conferred to human beings as their heart-minds. And secondly, benevolence referred to the principle of love. Zhu Xi criticized the claim that “everything in the world being a whole body” (wan wu yi ti 萬物一體) meant benevolence, which was proposed by scholars like Yang Shi 楊時 (1053–1135). This claim, for Zhu Xi, overlooked the inner sense and original meaning of benevolence. Zhu also disagreed with the view of regarding benevolence as something based on knowing and feeling, which was advocated by Xie Shangcai 謝上蔡 (1050–1120). This view, from Zhu’s perspective, would imply it was human desires, not benevolence, that should be regarded as principle. Zhu saw benevolence as the virtue of heart-mind and the principle of love (ren zhe xin zhi de ai zhi li 仁者 心之德愛之理). Zhu Xi and Zhang Shi debated on benevolence for a long time. Their debates originated from Cheng Yi’s critique of the claim that “the benevolence can be understood from the perspective of love” (yi ai wei ren 以愛為仁). Many scholars under Among Zhu Xi’s debates with others, Chan Wing-tsit argued that the debate on the concept of benevolence was the most important one for him (Chan 2007a: 25, 2007b: 247–48). 20  Chan Wing-tsit argued it was unclear when Zhu Xi wrote Explanation on Benevolence (Chan 2007a: 28). However, by investigating Zhu’s letter to Lin Zezhi 林擇之, Chen Lai confirmed that the book was written in 1172 (Chen 2000: 189). 19

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stood benevolence from the perspective of love according to Mengzi’s argument that “The disposition of commiseration implies the principle of benevolence” (ce yin zhi xin, ren ye 惻隱之心, 仁也). However, Cheng Yi argued that this understanding was wrong. For Cheng Yi, the commiseration was love, which was one kind of human disposition, but benevolence referred to one’s human nature, rather than feelings. Cheng’s point was that human dispositions and human nature were different. If benevolence was only understood as the feeling of love, then its original and fundamental meaning would easily be overlooked (Cheng and Cheng 2004: [1] 182). Zhang Shi also agreed with Cheng Yi that there was a difference between human nature and human dispositions, and Zhang emphasized that the manifestation cannot replace the substance (Zhang S. 2015: [4] 1031–32). Love cannot represent benevolence. In accordance with this understanding, Zhang Shi went further to emphasize the importance of human nature. However, Zhu Xi pointed out that Zhang Shi went too far in emphasizing the importance of substance, i.e., the human nature. For Zhu, although human nature and human dispositions were different, the connection between them could not be ignored. Benevolence referred to human nature, which was the substance. In the meantime, the manifestation of human nature was human dispositions. It was the development of human dispositions such as love that realized the substance of human nature. Therefore, benevolence not only referred to human nature, but also referred to love not-yet developed (Xiang 2017: 42–50). Zhu Xi’s definition of benevolence was deeply rooted in the above context, i.e., the debate on the relation of heart-mind, human nature, and human dispositions. First, for Zhu Xi, human nature was substance and human disposition was its manifestation. Therefore these two were different. Accordingly, benevolence and love were substance and its manifestation respectively. The two must not be identical. Second, although human nature and human dispositions were different, they were closely connected. Human nature refered to dispositions not yet developed, and dispositions refered to the development of human nature. They were metaphysically united by heart-mind. In accordance with this understanding, benevolence was the virtue of heart-mind and also the principle of love. 3.4.5  Collected Commentaries on the Four Books in Chapters and Sentences Zhu Xi’s change of the interpretation of the balance and harmony influenced his explanations of the four books, especially the Doctrine of the Mean and the Great Learning. According to his new definition of “balance and the harmony,” Zhu Xi revised his previous comments on the Doctrine of the Mean in 1170 and his comments on the Great Learning in 1177, respectively (Zhang L. 2013: 765). In 1182, Zhu Xi collected all the commentaries on the four books, and compiled them as a new book titled Collected Commentaries on the Four Books in Chapters and Sentences (Zhang L. 2013: 769). After many rounds of revisions, in 1189, Zhu Xi officially finished this highly authoritative interpretation of the four books (Zhang L. 2013: 771).

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Collected Commentaries on the Four Books in Chapters and Sentences was one of the classical works of Zhu Xi. It included one volume of “Chapters and Sentences in the Great Learning” (Daxue zhangju 大學章句), one volume of “Chapters and Sentences in the Doctrine of the Mean” (Zhongyong zhangju 中庸章句), 10 volumes of “Collected Comments on the Analects” (Lunyu jizhu 論語集注), and 14 volumes of “Collected Comments on the Mencius” (Mengzi jizhu 孟子集注). The Great Learning and the Doctrine of the Mean were originally two chapters of the Book of Rites (Liji 禮記), which was itself a Confucian classic. In the Tang and Song dynasties, the Analects and the Mencius were gradually regarded as Confucian classics. Since the time of Cheng Brothers, these four books were collectively emphasized. Zhu continued Chengs’ efforts to compile and comment on the four books and viewed them, together, as an independent school of classics, which was named the system or school of the Four Books. For Zhu, studies of the Four Books were ladders for studies of the Six Classics (sizi, liujing zhi jieti 四子, 六經之階梯).21 Even though Zhu Xi highly valued Essential Meanings of the Analects and the Mencius, he still argued that it was not as essential as that of Collected Commentaries on the Four Books in Chapters and Sentences. One significant characteristic of the latter was that Zhu Xi commented on the four books mainly according to the theory of principle.22 In “Chapters and Sentences in the Doctrine of the Mean,” Zhu clarified his interpretation of “balance and harmony” and his theory of human nature and heart-mind. In “Chapters and Sentences in the Great Learning,” Zhu modified the original sequences of the sentences in the Great Learning and added one more section to explain the meaning of “exploring the principle of things” (ge wu 格物) and “extending knowledge” (zhi zhi 致知).23 Zhu also proposed his theory of benevolence in “Collected Comments on the Analects”. In “Collected Comments on the Mencius”, Zhu emphasized “nurturing heart-mind” (yang xin 養心) in one’s selfcultivation in detail. All of these discussions were important topics for Zhu Xi’s theory of principle. Collected Commentaries on the Four Books in Chapters and Sentences was the magnum opus of Zhu Xi. Many of his ideas were presented and elaborated on in the book, including the sequence of studying, the way of exploring the principle of things and extending knowledge, the view that human nature is principle, the concepts of universality and particularity (of principle), and the virtue of benevolence. The first printing and publication of the book in 1182 signified the formation of Zhu Xi’s theory.24  More discussions about this book were found in Zhang L. (2013: 480–81).  Zhu himself also emphasized the importance of the critical interpretation of classics. 23  For Confucianism, classics written by sages could not be modified. Thus Zhu Xi’s modification of the original sentences in the Great Learning to some extent could not be accepted. However, by analyzing the structure of the Great Learning, most scholars, such as Chen Lai, agree with Zhu that the book itself did lack an explanation on ge wu and zhi zhi (Chen 2000: 278–83). 24  Generally speaking, Zhu Xi’s realization of the truth of “balance and harmony” in the year of Jichou signified the maturation of Zhu’s philosophy, and the publication of Collected Commentaries on the Four Books in Chapters and Sentences signified the formation of Zhu’s theory of principle. 21 22

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The Cheng Brothers’ influence took place in Zhu’s early years, and it was closely connected with the establishment and maturation of the philosophy of principle. By compiling the Cheng Brothers’ works, Zhu Xi developed his own ideas and theories, including his emphasis on the interpretation of classics and his concepts of heart-mind and human nature. All these issues were of vital importance for the studies of Dao in times of Song and Ming.

3.5 Zhu Xi’s Development of the Studies of Dao “The studies of Dao” in the Song and Ming dynasties mainly refered to the Confucian Orthodoxy, which, as claimed, were deeply rooted from the Confucian spirit, inherited from such ancient sages as Yao 堯, Shun 舜, Yu 禹, Kongzi, and Mengzi. It also meant the studies of “the sunstance of Dao” (dao ti 道體), the important and core concept in Confucian studies. “Dao” meant the essential principle of the cosmos. Zhu Xi viewed the ideas of the Two Chengs as being the studies of Dao, which had been inherited from Kongzi and Mengzi. In The History of Song (Songsi 宋史) written by Tuotuo 脫脫 (1314–56) in the Yuan dynasty, the biographies of Zhou Dunyi, Cheng Hao, Cheng Yi, Zhang Zai, and Zhu Xi were all compiled into the section of the “Biography of the Studies of Dao (Daoxue zhuan 道學傳)” (Tuo 1985: [36] 12709–77). Since then, the scholarly term “the studies of Dao” was coined. Zhu Xi discussed the studies of Dao by compiling the Chengs’ works, based on his interpretation, into two books, namely, the Record of the Sources of the Cheng School (Yiluo yuanyuan lu 伊洛淵源錄) and the Reflections on Things at Hand (Jinsi lu 近思錄). The Record of the Sources of the Cheng School focused on the studies of Confucian orthodoxy, the Chengs’ succession of the Confucian teachings, and the explanation of the relation between heart-mind and human nature in Neo-­ Confucianism (Zhang L. 2013: 389–90). After 8  years of preparations, Zhu Xi finished this book in 1173 (Zhang L. 2013: 766). It collected the words, arguments, behaviors, and political events of five masters, including Zhou Dunyi, Cheng Hao, Cheng Yi, Zhang Zai, and Shao Yong 邵雍 (1011–1077), and also their disciples or younger scholars studying with them. It included 14 volumes, and its writing style was viewed as the beginning of xue an ti 學案體.25 It clearly showed the ­evolution of the studies of Dao and indicated the beginning of the history of the theory of the principle.

 Xue an ti was a writing style to introduce the origin and the development of a school of thought. In each chapter it focuses on a particular scholar, and at the beginning of the chapter it first specifies the scholar’s relations with others, mainly, his teachers and friends in the school. Then it is followed by his biography, in order to show chronologically the major events and thoughts throughout his life. In the end, it records some of his anecdotes and sometimes included comments others made on him. 25

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In 1175, Zhu Xi and Lü Zuqian together collated and revised the book of Reflections on Things at Hand, which was later reprinted in Wuzhou (Zhang L. 2013: 766). This book collated the words and arguments of Zhou Dunyi, Cheng Hao, Cheng Yi, and Zhang Zai together to guide the students on the way of studying Neo-Confucianism, especially on studies of the relation between heart-­mind and human nature (Zhang L. 2013: 388–89). It includes 14 volumes, and 622 entries. All of them are classified according to the guidelines of the Great Learning. For example, Volumes I to V are focused on the guidelines from “exploring the principle of things” (ge wu 格物) to the guidelines of self-cultivation (xiu shen 修 身); Volumes VI to X are focused on the guidelines of family regulation (qi jia 齊 家), state governance (zhi guo 治國), and bringing peace to the world (ping tian xia 平天下). Volumes XI and XII are about the principles and guidelines of education. Both Zhu Xi and Lü Zuqian intended to indicate the direction of self-cultivation. Thus, in the last two volumes, they discussed the learning of discerning heresy in the way of becoming a virtuous and sagely person. This book was finished in 1175 and later was viewed as a guide book of Neo-Confucianism. Since its publication, Zhou Dunyi, Cheng Hao, Cheng Yi, and Zhang Zai were called the four masters, and they were viewed as important Confucians in the Song dynasty. And the book also became the means to study the thoughts of the four masters. Zhu Xi was influenced by many scholars. In his early years of studies, Li Tong led Zhu Xi into the direction of Confucianism, rather than Buddhism and Daoism. Zhu’s learning of the thoughts of Kongzi and Mengzi then was heavily influenced by the four masters. It was in the study of their thoughts that Zhu Xi further developed and finally formed his own theory of principle. Together with the four masters, Zhu Xi became the most important Confucian in the school of principle in the Song dynasty.

4 Academic Debates (hui jiang 會講) Zhu Xi was not only influenced by the four masters, but also influenced by some others such as Zhang Shi, Lu Jiuyuan, and Lü Zuqiang. Debating with them not only helped Zhu enrich his understanding of concepts, such as the great ultimate, the balance and harmony, and the benevolence, but also provided him the opportunities to communicate with other schools of Conufucianism, like the “School of Hu– Xiang (huxiang xuepai 湖湘學派)” and the “School of Heart-mind (xinxue 心學).”

4.1 Academic Debates Between Zhu Xi and Zhang Shi In the Southern Song dynasty, there were two schools studying the thoughts of the Chengs. One was the “School of Min (min xue 閩學),” where Min was the abbreviation of Fu’jian. The representatives of the school included Yang Shi, Luo Congyan, and Li Tong. Their main argument was that the ways to self-cultivation by acquiring

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heavenly principle was to conduct quiet sitting for the sake of the clarity of heart-­ mind. (mo zuo cheng xin 默坐澄心). The other school was the “School of Hu-Xiang,” with the name Hu–Xiang referring to the area of Hu’nan 湖南, in which the academic and teaching activities of the school mainly took place. Scholars of this school include Hu Anguo 胡安國 (1074–1138), Hu Hong 胡宏 (1106–1162), and Zhang Shi. Their main argument was that human nature was the substance, and heart-mind was the manifestation, while principle was embedded in the human nature (li ju yu xing 理具于性). In the Autumn of 1167, Zhu Xi went to Tanzhou to visit Zhang Shi in Yuelu Academy (Yuelu Shuyuan 岳麓書院).26 He arrived there in September and lived in Chengnan Academy (Chengnan Shuyuan 城南書院) (Zhang L. 2013: 764). They discussed various philosophical concepts, such as the meaning of the doctrine of the mean, the meaning of the balance and harmony, the meaning of the great ultimate, etc.27 This event was commonly called “The Academic Debates between Zhu and Zhang (Zhu Zhang hui jiang 朱張會講)” (Zhang L. 2013: 384–85). The discussions between Zhu and Zhang pioneered cross-school academic discussions in that period. Their meetings and discussions lasted for more than two and a half months. It indeed helped Zhu  a lot in knowing more about the School of Hu–Xiang (Tillman 2009: 60–61). For example, Zhu further developed understandings of “the balance and harmony,”28 which led to his “realizing the Truth of the balance and harmony in year of Jichou”.

4.2 Academic Debates Between Zhu Xi and Lu Jiuyuan After the academic debates between Zhu Xi and Zhang Shi, Lü Zuqiang later helped bring about another academic debate between Zhu Xi and Lu Jiuyuan, who was the founder of the School of Heart-mind. Before Zhu Xi met Lu Jiuyuan, Zhu Xi’s philosophy was basically established in 1169, and he strongly opposed to the view that heart-mind was the principle (xin ji li 心即理).29 However, this was what Lu Jiuyuan firmly believed.

 According to Zhu Xi’s poem about Hu Anguo 胡安國, it seems that the first time Zhu met Zhang Shi was in 1164. However, they should have met each other earlier. According to the Classified Conversations of Master Zhu, scholars such as Chen Lai argued that the first time Zhu Xi met Zhang Shi should take place in 1163 (Zhu 1986; [7] 2608–9; Chen 2000: 170). 27  All of these topics have been discussed in part 3 of this chapter. 28  Details about the evolution of Zhu Xi’s understanding of the balance and harmony and his understanding of the concept of benevolence throughout his entire life are also found in Liu Shuhsien (Liu 1984: 71–188). 29  Chen Lai provided detailed analysis and materials in supporting this argument (Chen 2000: 349–50). 26

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4.2.1 Meeting at E’hu (e hu zhi hui 鵝湖之會) In April 1175, Lü Zuqian, together with Pan Jingyu 潘景愈, visited Zhu Xi in Wufu, Tanxi. In May, Lü and Zhu went to E’hu 鵝湖. Later, Lu Jiuling 陸九齡 (1132–1180) and Lu Jiuyuan also arrived in E’hu, where they met with Zhu (Zhang L. 2013: 766). Focused on the way of studying, Zhu, Lu, and Lü, together with many other scholars debated in depth with each other in the meeting. The meeting was arranged by Lü Zuqian, who intended to harmonize the two philosophers’ (Zhu and Lu) ideas (Zhang L. 2013: 224–25). The difference between Zhu and Lu was the sequence of study and learning. They had different ideas about which goes first between “honoring one’s virtuous nature” (zun de xing 尊德性) and “maintaining constant inquiry and study” (dao wen xue 道問學) in the way of cultivation. Zhu emphasized maintaining constant inquiry and study. For him, one first needed to study widely and extensively in order to achieve the whole understanding of the principle of Heaven. However, Lu criticized Zhu’s way of studying as “fragmental efforts” (zhi li shi ye 支離事業). He insisted that this kind of accumulation could not lead people to a whole understanding of the principle of heaven but only a fragmental one. The easiest way, Lu argued, should be that one firstly and mainly focused on the understanding of the original heart-mind, which was the metaphysical basis of the theory of Dao. However, Zhu did not agree with Lu’s way of studying and criticized its over-simplicity and its absorption of the theory of Zen (Zhang L. 2013: 224–25). During this meeting and discussion, even though Zhu and Lu could not be convinced by each other in the end, they did benefit from each other’s criticisms in further enriching and developing their own thoughts and ideas.30 This event was called “The Meeting at E’hu”. In March 1176, Zhu Xi met with Lü Zuqian in Kai’hua 開化, where they went further to discuss the problems of Lu’s way of selfcultivation for 9 days (Zhang L. 2013: 767). 4.2.2 Academic Meeting at Nankang 南康 After their meeting at E’hu, Zhu and Lu often sent mails to each other to continue their discussion. In 1181, Lu Jiyuan visited Zhu Xi in Nan’kang, which was their second academic meeting. Zhu invited Lu to give lectures in the Academy of White Deer Cave (bai lu dong 白鹿洞), where they began their second debate face to face (Zhang L. 2013: 224). In the lectures, Lu primarily taught on the chapter “The mind of the superior man is conversant with righteousness; the mind of the mean man is conversant with profits” (jun zi yu yu yi, xiao ren yu yu li 君子喻於義, 小人喻於利) in the Analects. Lu  Chen Lai argued that after this first meeting, many disciples of Lu turned to support Zhu’s argument, including Lu Jiuling, who was the brother of Lu Jiuyuan (Chen 2000: 366–73). 30

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argued that one’s knowledge comes from habits and practice in ordinary life, which is entirely according to one’s will. If one sets heart-mind to rightness (yi 義), then one acts with the principles of virtue. If one sets heart-mind to profit, then one’s acts follow the direction of profits. Thus, Lu argued that in learning, one should be cautious about the danger of his will, which Zhu mostly agreed with.31 This event was called “the academic meeting in Nankang (nan kang zhi hui 南康之會).” In this second meeting, Zhu and Lu did not debate as fiercely as in the E’hu Meeting. Even though they still sharply disagreed with each other as for the sequence of studying, in this event they did not go into detail in their differences in fundamental philosophical standpoints. The biggest difference between them was that Zhu Xi argued that the heart-mind has two aspects, substance and manifestation, but Lu disagreed (Meng 2007: 66). For Zhu, the heart-mind’s substance is human nature, and heart-mind’s manifestation is human dispositions. Human nature is different from human dispositions. However, Lu did not adopt the perspective of the substance and manifestation of the heart-mind. Instead, he argued that heart-mind is the principle, and heart-mind itself is everything in the universe. Thus, for Zhu, principle is the ultimately reality. For Lu, it is the heart-mind, instead of principle, that is ultimate. All these debates were vital for the development of Zhu Xi’s thoughts. His debates with such scholars as Zhang Shi led to his realization in the year of Jichou, which signified the formation of his philosophy. With his compilation and revision of the four masters’ works and his commentaries on the four books, Zhu Xi established a sophisticated but plausible system of Confucian philosophy. He debated with other scholars like Lu Jiuyuan and Chen Liang to defend the Confucian orthodoxy he perceived. Many scholars, such as his friends Lü Zuqian, and even some of Lu’s disciples, also subsequently joined their debates (Chen 2000: 374–80). The influence of these debates was not limited in China, but subsequently spread to other countries like Korea and Japan.

5 Zhu Xi’s Works on the Five Classics and Formation of His Philosophy In his life, Zhu Xi focused his effort on commenting on the four books, and the publication of these commentaries signified the establishment of his studies of classics. At the same time, Zhu Xi also made a lot of efforts on other classics, such as the Book of Changes (Zhuoyi 周易), the Book of Rites (Lijing 禮經), the Book of History (Shangshu 尚書), the Book of Poems (Shijing 詩經), and the Book of Spring and Autumn (Chunqiu 春秋). His explanations on these classics further showed the comprehensiveness of his Confucian studies.  In the same year (1181) in Nankang, Zhu Xi debated also with Chen Liang 陳亮 (1143–1194) on the relation between profits and righteousness (Zhang L. 2013: 217–18). Zhu Xi argued that the studies of benevolence and righteousness should be the first important thing, but Chen Liang argued that righteousness followed after the achievement of benefits, and without benefits, there would be no way to talk about righteousness. 31

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5.1 Collation of the Book of Changes Zhu Xi was a comprehensive philosopher in the study of the Book of Changes, and his efforts can be seen in the Enlightenment on the Book of Changes (Yixue qimeng 易學啟蒙) and the Original Meanging of the Book of Changes (Zhouyi benyi 周易本義). Zhu Xi co-authored the Enlightenment on the Book of Changes with Cai Yuanding 蔡元定 (1135–1198) in 1186 (Zhang L. 2013: 770). In Zhu’s original draft, there were only two volumes. Then Zhu showed this draft to Cai Yuanding for comments and suggestions for further revisions. Following Cai’s recommendation, Zhu expanded the two volumes into four chapters. Chapter one examined the studies on the Diagram of River (He tu 河圖) and Book of Luo (Luo shu 洛書), the pictures of which were viewed as the origin of the eight trigrams (ba gua 八卦). Chapter two showed the pictures drawn by ancient sages of Fuxi 伏羲 and King Wen (Wenwang 文王) and further discussed their differences. Chapter three studied the ancient divinatory method, and chapter four went on discussing the divinatory style. Now this book is included in the Collected Works of Master Zhu (Zhang L. 2013: 482–83). Cai Yuanding was known as a good friend rather than a disciple of Zhu Xi (Zhang L. 2013: 131). He helped Zhu Xi revise and write a number of books, such as the Reflections on Things at Hand and the Examinations of the Kinship of the Three in the Book of Changes (Zhouyi cantongqi kaoyi 周易參同契考異). The latter was finished in 1196 (Zhang L. 2013: 773). It was about Zhu’s explanations on The Kinships of the Three, written by Wei Boyang 魏伯陽 (c. 151–c. 221),32 which Zhu argued could be understood in accordance with the meaning of the Book of Changes. In 1197, this book was revised again and reprinted by Cai Yuan 蔡淵 in Jian’yang 建陽. Two years later, it was further revised by Zhu Xi, and was finalized and reprinted in Jian’yang (Zhang L. 2013: 774). The Original Meanging of the Book of Changes was written by Zhu Xi in 1188 (Zhang L. 2013: 771, 482). In this book, he intended to show the original picture and meaning of the Books of Changes, which, according to Zhu, was a book of divination. The original edition Zhu used was Lü Zuqian’s edition of The Ancient Book of Changes (Gu zhuoyi 古周易), in which the text and commentaries were separated. And there were two versions: the first version contained 12 volumes (original edition), and another version four volumes. In the original version, Zhu Xi intended to study the meaning of divination in the Book of Changes according to the main text and its commentaries. Then he went further to elaborate on the idea of principle. This book was very popular at that time and later became the standard book for the imperial examination (Zhang L. 2013: 482). In Song dynasty, scholars’ attitudes to classics significantly changed. Many of them, such as Liu Chang 劉敞 (1019–1068) and Ouyang Xiu 歐陽修 (1007–1072), started to question the validity of ancient classics (Zhang L. 2013: 457). Zhu Xi, too, showed his doubt about some ancient books. For example, in 1176, Zhu Xi did 32

 Wei Boyang was a Huang–Lao Daoist, and an alchemist in the Eastern Han dynasty.

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textual research on the book Exploring Emptiness and argued that this book was fake (Zhang L. 2013: 767). He even wrote the Examination of Exploring Emptiness (Qianxu kaoyi 潛虛考異) to support and clarify his arguments. Another way of doubting the ancient classics was not to view them from an overly holy and sagely view. In explaining the Book of Changes, Zhu Xi argued that this book was not a holy book but mainly a book about the theory of divination, in which such issues as divination, milfoil stalks, and image-numerology, could be understood based on the theory of principle.

5.2 Collation of The Books of Rites Zhu Xi emphasized the study of rites, which was an important component of his classics studies (Zhang L. 2013: 470). He started to work on books about rites since he was young. In 1173, he revised Sacrificial Rites (Jiyi 祭儀) (Zhang L. 2013: 766). Later he collated The Roles of Disciples (Dizizhi 弟子職) and The Precepts on Women (Nujie 女誡), and he reprinted them in Jian’an in 1174 (Zhang L. 2013: 766). In the same year, he also compiled Family Sacrificial Rituals throughout History (Gujin jiajili 古今家祭禮) (Zhang L. 2013: 766). Family Rituals of Master Zhu (Zhuzi jiali 朱子家禮), originally titled Family Rituals (Jiali 家禮), was an important book about rituals written in his early life (Zhang L. 2013: 484). There are totally five volumes, namely, normal ceremony (tong li 通禮), capping ceremony (guan li 冠禮), wedding ceremony (hun li 昏禮), funeral ceremony (sang li 喪禮), and sacrificial ceremony (ji li 祭禮). In writing this book, Zhu Xi called for practicing rituals in family and ordinary life. Perplexingly, after the book was finished, it was no longer discussed by Zhu as a major issue thoughout his life time. This caused curiosity of many scholars, across dynasties from Song to Qing, about the authenticity of the book. However, many scholars today like Qian Mu 錢穆 argue that this book should be authentic, based on Zhu’s own words recorded by Ye Weidao 葉味道 and Yang Xinzhai 楊信齋 (Qian 2011: [4] 174–75). This book had significant influence on the formation of rites and custom in China and also those in Japan and Korea (Zhang L. 2013: 484). The Explanations on the Text of Rituals and Its Commentaries (Yili jingzhuan tongjie 儀禮經傳通解) was written by Zhu Xi and Huang Gan 黃榦 (1152–1221), among others (Zhang L. 2013: 484, 774), with the major content done by Zhu. The book, which took them 10 years to complete, treated the commentaries a separate part of the Text of Rituals for the sake of clarity. Increasing and Deleting of the Lü Family County Agreement (Zengsun lüshi xiangyue 增損呂氏鄉約) was another book written by Zhu, and it was about the proper community or clan system (Zhang L. 2013: 484–85). Originally, Lü Dajun 呂大鈞 (1029–1080) wrote Lü Family County Agreement in the Northern Song dynasty. Based on this book, Zhu Xi went further to add more rules or rites in detail, and he finished Increasing and Deleting of the Lü Family County Agreement in 1175 (Zhang L. 2013: 484–85). In this book, Zhu Xi emphasized the importance of ritu-

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als in the clan system, and their functions of educating people and the maintenance of social order. Zhu Xi regarded the studies of rites, especially the studies of the three books, the Rites of Zhou, the Text of Rituals, and the Book of Rites (Zhang L. 2013: 470), as of considerable importance. For him, the Rites of Zhou itself mainly is focused on guidelines of specific rites. The Text of Rituals (Yili 儀禮), on the other hand, should be read with the Book of Rites (Liji 禮記). It is because the former mainly recorded details of specific rites, and the latter, as perceived by Zhu, specified the principle. Therefore, their relation was like that between a classic and its commentaries. Obviously, the above relation of the three books itself is the manifestation of his idea of principle.

5.3 Collation of The Book of History Zhu Xi did not write a book specifically for the Book of History. However, he talked about his experience and knowledge as how to distinguish the authentic version (or section) of the book from the fake ones (Zhang L. 2013: 467). By referencing to the writing style, Zhu firmly believed that the Preface of Kong Anguo’s Book of History was not written by Kong Anguo 孔安國 (156 BCE–74 BCE) and therefore fake. He also asserted that the Preface of the Book of History was not written by Kongzi, due to its inconsistency with the Book of History. He went even further to argue that the Book of History Written in Ancient Characters (Guwen shangshu 古文尚書) was fake (Zhang L. 2013: 467). Zhu’s efforts in distinguishing the authentic version (or section) of the Book of History from the fake inspired his disciples to investigate the Book of History further (Zhang L. 2013: 467). In January 1198, Zhu Xi was sick and he showed all his books to Huang Gan. He then asked Huang, with the participation of some others, to collate The Book of History (Zhang L. 2013: 774). In 1199, Zhu asked Cai Chen 蔡沉 (1167–1230) to join forces (Zhang L. 2013: 774). Cai collected commentaries together and corrected the mistakes in understanding the Book of History, and wrote the Collections of Commentaries on the Book of History (Shuji zhuan 書集 傳). In this book, Cai presented comprehensive studies on the Book of History in the Song dynasty, and this book had great influence in the development of the studies of the Book of History.

5.4 Collations of the Book of Poems and the Book of Spring and Autumn Zhu Xi studied the Book of Poems since he was 20  years old. He finished the Collected Explanations on the Book of Poems (Shi jijie 詩集解) when he was 48  years old in 1177 (Zhang L. 2013: 767). After that, Zhu started to write the

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Collected Commentaries on the Book of Poems in the same year. He did not finish the book for printing in Jian’an 建安 until 1186 (Zhang L. 2013: 483, 770). The Collected Commentaries on the Book of Poems reflected Zhu’s view of the Book of Poems (Zhang L. 2013: 465, 483). Zhu argued that people could not understand the Book of Poems according to its preface, because the preface was not written by the ancients. He claimed that scholars should study the book from the perspective of principle. In his commentaries, Zhu’s main idea was that poems were the expressions of heart-mind being in contact with things outside. Zhu Xi also studied the Book of Spring and Autumn. From his perspective, the theme of the book was about the proper understanding of the Way and the clarity of the principle of rightness. Sages wrote this book to check and regulate the development of human desires, so as to preserve and nurture the principle of Heaven. Zhu did not write a particular book to elaborate or comment on the Book of Spring and Autumn. His relevant views are therefore mainly in the Classified Conversation of Master Zhu and the Collected Writtings of Zhu Wen Gong (Zhang L. 2013: 470–71). By explaining the classics mentioned above, Zhu Xi emphasized the importance of understanding their philosophical meanings. However, it does not mean that Zhu rejected the way of explaining classics, chapter by chapter, and sentence by sentence, as scholars in the Han dynasty normally did. Instead, Zhu Xi started a new way of understanding classics, which was to incorporate ways of understanding classics both in Han and Song dynasties together. First, the original text and its commentaries should be separated, thus the philosophical meaning of the original text could be understood without the lengthy commentaries. Second, classics should be placed together so that it would be more convenient for scholars to understand the underlying philosophical meanings. By doing so, it became easier for scholars from different schools to exchange their views (Zhang L. 2013: 9). All these changes done by Zhu Xi were important for the subsequent development of the studies of classics.

6 Zhu Xi’s Political Life and Other Cultural Contributions Zhu Xi started his political career at a young age, and he served in public office under the reigns of four emperors thoughout his life. His political beliefs were closely related to his studies of Dao, as it was inherited from the Cheng brothers, and such beliefs had influence in the ups and downs of his political career.

6.1 The Beginning of Zhu Xi’s Political Life Zhu Xi passed the civil service examination when he was 19 years old, and thus he began his political career early. In 1151, Zhu Xi passed the examination held by the Ministry of Personnel (Libu 吏部) and got his first official post zuo di gong lang

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左迪功郎 (a post like the deputy county chief) and zhu bu dai ci 主簿待次 (a post like a county clerk to-be) in Tong’an 同安 County, Quanzhou (Zhang L. 2013: 762). Zhu Xi arrived in Tong’an County in July 1153, and his term of service as a county clerk lasted until 1156 (Zhang L. 2013: 763). Then he moved to and lived temporarily in the Fantian 梵天 Temple. After his successor arrived at Tong’an, Zhu Xi returned to Chong’an in 1158 (Zhang L. 2013: 763). As a county clerk in Tong’an, Zhu Xi did a lot of filing work and became familiar with the local rules. He was also responsible to survey the boundaries accurately. Also included in his duties was to ractify the official instructions regarding taxation and civil service. (Zhang L. 2013: 25). Zhu’s another major legacy was his efforts on the development of the county education system. Before Zhu Xi arrived, the county education in Tong’an had been badly damaged by the policy of prohibiting the studies of the Cheng brothers, implemented by then Prime Minister Qin Hui 秦檜 (1090–1155).33 Zhu devoted himself to rebuilding the County’s education system, including giving lectures, developing courses on reading classics, fashioning rituals and rules of examinations. Zhu Xi even taught the course of the Analects himself. In 1153, Zhu Xi called for building “Pavilion of Confucian Classics and Historical Books” (jing shi ge 經史閣) to collect books for education and academic purposes (Zhang L. 2013: 21, 762). As Zhu rebuilt the county’s education system, Zhu Xi contacted more scholars in Tong’an County like Ke Han 柯翰 and Xu Yuanpin 徐元聘,34 and he therefore further enriched and developed his way of studying classics. Instead of merely doing explanations of the chapters and sentences of classics, Zhu Xi focused on the philosophical meaning of the texts. During his 4 years of being a clerk in Tong’an County, Zhu Xi intiated a change of studying classics. And later his communications with scholars in other counties and states also influenced the learning styles there (Shu 1992: 128–39). Zhu Xi contributed much to the revitalization of the Confucian education in the southern region.

6.2 The Maturity of Political Thoughts When Zhu Xi’s post as a clerk in Tong’an ended, he returned to Chong’an in 1158 (Zhang L. 2013: 763). In the winter of 1158, Zhu Xi requested the official post of sacrifice (si 祠) for nurturing his family, and then he was admitted to be in charge of the temple of Nanyue 南嶽 in Tanzhou (Zhang L. 2013: 763). In August 1159, Zhu

 Qin Hui was a high-ranking advocate of appeasement policy, i.e., to surrender certain territories to the Jin Empire for peace. In Chinese history, Qin was notorious for disparaging such officials as the famous General of Yue Fei 岳飛 (1103–1142), who argued against appeasement but were finally sentenced to death by Qin administration. 34  For more details about Zhu Xi’s communications with scholars in Tong’an, see Shu (1992: 128–39). 33

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Xi was offered an official position following Chen Kangbo’s 陳康伯recommendation but declined the offer (Zhang L. 2013: 763). In 1160, Zhu went to Yanping 延平, and became a student of Li Tong. Zhu studied under Li Tong for months and then returned home (Zhang L. 2013: 763). In September 1161, the army of Jin 金, led by Wanyan Liang 完顏亮 (1122–1161), invaded the southern part of the country, and reached the areas near the Huai 淮 River. The Song government, after successfully stopping the army of Jin from going to the further south in December, in order to maintence its relation with the Jin Emperor, prosecuted its own people. To argue against this in 1162, Zhu Xi submitted a written statement to the emperor (Zhang L. 2013: 763). This statement was written under the guidance of Li Tong, and it was called “A Sealed Document Requested by the Emperor in the Year of Renwu” (ren wu ying zhao feng shi 壬午 應詔封事) (Tuo 1985: [36] 12752).35 In that statement, Zhu Xi provided many suggestions on the handling of the foreign invasion (Zhang L. 2013: 763). For Zhu, the government should battle fiercely against the invasion, instead of negotiating a peace deal. Furthermore, Zhu called for the education of the emperors, in which the studies of Confucianism, rather than that of Buddhism, should become the curriculum. Besides, Zhu also provided suggestions of better public governance, like the rectification of officials. This event was also known as “The Suggestions of Resisting Jin Aggression” (chen kang Jin zhi ce 陳抗金之策) (Zhang L. 2013: 21; Tuo 1985: [36] 12752). In these Suggestions, Zhu Xi not only gave his advice on military matters but also introduced his political thoughts, which were also influenced by Li Tong. In 1163, Zhu Xi discussed with Li Tong in Wuyi 武邑 and then they made further ­suggestions to the administration (Zhang L. 2013: 764).36 On November 6, 1163, Zhu Xi arrived at Lin’an 臨安 and provided his recommendations to the emperor Zhao Shen 趙眘 (1127–1194) (Zhang L. 2013: 764). In his proposal, Zhu Xi emphasized the importance of Confucian studies, rather than Buddhism. He argued against the idea of seeking peace with the Jin 金 empire and suggested the emperor should listen to the admonishments from such officials as Hu Quan 胡銓 (1102–1180) and Zhou Bida 周必大 (1126–1204). However, Zhu Xi’s view was finally not adopted. Since then, Zhu Xi was no longer regarded highly by the emperor.

6.3 The Post in Charge of Nankangjun 南康軍37 Having failed to persuade the emperor to abandon the appeasement policy, Zhu Xi left Lin’an in 1163, and in 1164, he went to Yan’ping to mourn the death of Li Tong (Zhang L. 2013: 764; Wang 1998: 25). Since then, Zhu devoted himself more on

 Renwu 壬午 was one of the twelve Heavenly stems and Earthly branches which were traditional Chinese marks of years. Renwu’s sequence was nineteen. 36  On October 15, 1163, Li Tong passed away in Fuzhou. 37  Nankangjun was an administrative region established in the Northern Song dynasty. During Zhu Xi’s time, it was under the jurisdiction of the Jiangnandonglu province 江南東路. 35

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academics—he kept writing and debating with scholars. It was not until the year 1178 that Zhu Xi was appointed again to govern Nankangjun, recommended by Shi Hao 史浩 (1106–1194) (Zhang L. 2013: 767; Wang 1998: 87). Zhu Xi declined the offer many times too. And the recommendation had also been rejected by the administration. However, finally he accepted it in 1179 (Zhang L. 2013: 767–68; Wang 1998: 88). At that time, Zhu Xi already had become a great Confucian, famous for his knowledge and philosophy of the study of Dao. Zhu’s acceptance of the post was meaningful to most scholars, who looked forward to great achievements made by fellow Confucians. Zhu Xi made many political achievements in Nankangjun (Zhang L. 2013: 23). In view of severe poverty and heavy taxes, he implemented a number of policies, such as giving laborers respite, developing and practicing ritual customs, and recommending the way of self-cultivation for loyalty and sagehood. In 1180, people there suffered from drought, but they could finally survive it due to, to a certain extent, Zhu Xi’s efforts. Zhu also advocated improving the educational system and establishing schools or academies. For example, Zhu Xi found the old site of White Deer Cave when he paid an inspection visit to Beitang 陂塘. In 1180, the Academy of White Deer Cave (Bailudong shuyuan 白鹿洞書院) was built to conduct teaching (Zhang L. 2013: 768). Being in charge of Nankangjun, Zhu Xi further developed his political beliefs, especially his emphasis on rectifing the heart-mind of the emperor (zheng jun xin 正 君心) (Tuo 1985: [36] 12753–54). From his perspective, if the emperor could conduct self-cultivation by suppressing his selfish desires, he could then become the role model for morality to the entire society and would further lead to a peaceful society and good goverance. Based on such a belief, Zhu criticized the emperor, Zhao Shen, by submitting a sealed document to him in 1180, which was again not accepted (Shu 1992: 417–20). Although his political suggestions were not adopted by the authority, his ideas of principle and studies of Dao were popular among scholars in Jiangxi 江西, Zhejiang 浙江, and Fujian 福建.

6.4 The Impeachment of Tang Zhongyou 唐仲友 and Zhu’s Resignation In 1181, people in the areas of Zhezhong 浙中 suffered heavily from natural disasters of droughts and floods. Then, Zhu Xi was appointed as a director in the areas because of his records in handing the aftermath of natural disaster of drought in Nankangjun (Zhang L. 2013: 26; Wang 1998: 121–22). In the subsequent investigation, Zhu Xi discovered many problems, such as high taxes and the officials’ nonfeasance during droughts. Zhu impeached many officials, especially Tang

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Zhongyou 唐仲友 (1136–1188),38 who held the office of zhizhou 知州 (a post like a supervisor in charge of a state) in Taizhou 台州. However, the emperor Zhao Shen and the Prime Minister (zhaixiang 宰相) Wang Huai 王淮 did not support Zhu’s impeachment of Tang (Tuo 1985: [36] 12756). Then, Zhu Xi resigned from office in 1182. Although Zhu Xi made certain achievements in disaster relief, his impeachment of officials led to the political suppression of him. Zhu’s impeachment of Tang led to Wang Huai’s dislike of scholars in studying Dao. In the end of 1182, the close friend of Tang Zhongyou, Zheng Bing 鄭丙, the Minister of Personnel (li bu shang shu 吏部尚書), wrote a statement to the emperor Zhao Shen to criticize the studies of Dao for being a false learning (wei xue 偽學) (Tuo 1985: [36] 12756–57). In 1183, the Minister of Supervision (jian cha yu shi 監察御史) Chen Jia 陳賈, who was also a member of the party of Wang Huai, proposed to the emperor to forbid the studies of Dao (Tuo 1985: [36] 12756–57), and it was approved. Since then, Zhu Xi’s political career was highly influenced by the struggle between the party of Zhao Ruyu 趙汝愚 (1140–1196), who supported the studies of Dao, and the party of Wang Huai, who opposed it. Zhu gradually lost interest in politics and turned to academics and teachings.

6.5 The Forbidding of Studies of Dao In 1195, the Prime Minister Zhao Ruyu 趙汝愚was criticized by his political opponent and was demoted to Yongzhou 永州 and later died in Hengzhou 衡州. However, many officials who supported the studies of Dao, including Zhu Xi, were expelled (Zhang L. 2013: 30, 773). In 1196, Zhu Xi’s Collected Commentaries on the Four Books in Chapters and Sentences and the Classified Conversations were baselessly slandered as fasle books to be destroyed. In December, Zhu Xi was impeached by the Minister of Supervision Shen Jizu 沈繼祖, and then Zhu was sent back home (Zhang L. 2013: 773). In 1197, Zhu Xi, together with many other scholars, such as Zhao Ruyu (1140–1196) and Zhou Bida, were criticized as members of “false learning and rebellious eunuch group” (wei xue ni dang ji 偽學逆黨籍) (Zhang L. 2013: 773–74). Members of this group were expelled, or exiled; other people related to this group were not allowed to attend any examinations or get any official post. This event was also called “the case of party forbidding in year of Qingyuan” (qing yuan dang jin 慶元黨禁) (Zhang L. 2013: 30). The forbidding of the studies of Dao lasted for the remaining life of Zhu and it did not end even after his death in 1200 (Zhang L. 2013: 775). Throughout his political career, Zhu Xi always emphasized the decisive role of the emperor in government, but he also highlighted the necessity of self-cultivation  Tang Zhongyou was from the same villiage as the Prime Minister Wang Huai 王淮, and it was said that they established close connection by marriage (Tuo 1985: [36] 12756). 38

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of the emperor, especially the rectification of the heart-mind. This was in accordance with his understanding of the thoughts of the Cheng brothers. For Zhu, virtues like benevolence and rightousness were what human beings were born with. These were the qualities that needed to be nurtured first. It was from this point that Zhu Xi went on to criticize the faults of the emperor frankly and wrote many poems and papers about his political ideas. Although Zhu’s suggestion was not accepted officially, his courage and his adherence to his belief in Confucian Way, together with his academic achievements, made him a great Confucian thinker and scholar of all time.

7 Conclusion Zhu Xi worked very hard throughout his life. Even though his health was very bad in March 1200, he still conducted teaching and writing (Zhang L. 2013: 775). On March 4, he was explaining sentences in the Diagram of the Great Ultimate to students; on March 5, he taught students on the Western Inscription. On March 6, he was still working on revising the chapter of “Being Sincere (Chengyi 誠意)” in the Great Learning (Zhang L. 2013: 775). On March 9, Zhu Xi passed away in the county of Kaoting 考亭 (Zhang L. 2013: 775). Zhu Xi developed his theory of principle, which not only included the studies of classics but also the ideas of education, ethics, and politics. He epitomized the idea of principle inherited from the Cheng Brothers in the Song dynasty. Zhu Xi was regarded highly after his death. After the forbidding of studies of Dao ended in 1208, Zhu got the posthumous title wen 文 in 1209 (Zhang L. 2013: 18). And in 1227 he was conferred the posthumous title of Xinguo Gong 信國公, later being changed to Huiguo Gong 徽國公 in 1370 (Zhang L. 2013: 19). Zhu Xi’s thoughts exerted a great influence after his death. In the end of the Southern Song dynasty and the Yuan dynasty, his thoughts were gradually reemphasized by the government. His Collected Commentaries on the Four Books in Chapters and Sentences served as the reference book in the civil examinations. Zhu’s ideas were even spread to other Asian countries, such as North Korea, Japan, and Vietnam, where it became the official school of thought too. In the modern world, the studies of Zhu Xi continue to attract increasing interest around the world.

References Angle, Stephen C. 2009. Sagehood: The Contemporary Significance of Neo-Confucian Philosophy. New York: Oxford University Press. (A rich comparative study of Neo-Confucian philosophy and contemporary Western philosophy.) Cao, Duan 曹端. 2003. “Distinguishing the Differences 辨戾,” Detailed Explanations on the Book of Commentaries on the Diagram of the Great Ultimate 太極圖說述解. In Collections of Cao Duan 曹端集, vol. I, proofread by Wang Binglun 王秉倫. Beijing 北京: Zhonghua Shuju 中

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華書局. (Good discussions on Zhu Xi’s different understandings of the great ultimate and yin-yang.) Chan, Wing-tsit (Chen, Rongjie) 陳榮捷. 2007a. Collections of Studies on Zhu Thoughts 朱學 論集. Shanghai 上海: Huadong Normal University 華東師範大學出版社. (This book has emphasized the philosophical significance of Zhu Xi’s ideas such as the Great Ultimate and benevolence, and also examined the different philosophical standpoints between the Chengs and Zhu Xi in detail.) ———. 2007b. New Investigations on Master Zhu 朱子新探索. Shanghai 上海: Huadong Normal University 華東師範大學出版社. (This is a book concentrating on the studies of Zhu Xi, which not only includes the studies of Zhu Xi’s life story, thoughts, and the relations with his companions, but also provides a lot of materials that were unnoticed before.) Chen, Lai 陳來. 2000. Studies on Philosophy of Master Zhu 朱子哲學研究. Shanghai 上海: Huadong Normal University Press 上海華東師範大學. (This book presents the development of Zhu Xi’s thoughts on the understanding of the relation between the principle and the force, the relation between heart-mind and human nature, the relation between “exploring the principle of everything” and “extending knowledge.”) Cheng, Hao 程顥, and Cheng Yi 程頤. 2004. Collected Works of the Two Chengs 二程集. Beijing 北京: Zhonghua Press 中華書局. (A far-ranging collection of works of the Chengs, including surving works and complementary works of the Chengs, papers and poems of the Chengs, the Chengs’ commentaries on the classics, etc.) Liu Shu-hsien (Liu, Shuxian) 劉述先. 1984. The Development and Completion of Zhu Xi’s Philosophy 朱子哲學思想的發展和完成. Taipei 臺北: Taiwan xuesheng shuju 臺灣學生書 局. (A good account of for the development of Zhu Xi’s thoughts from his early life to the establishment of his theory and its significance and influences.) Meng, Peiyuan 蒙培元. 2007. The Evolution of the Studies of Principle 理學的演變. Beijing 北 京: Fangzhi Press 方志出版社. (This book provides good arguments about Zhu Xi’s role in the differentiation and evolution of the studies of principle.) Qian, Mu 錢穆. 2011. New Anthology and Critical Accounts of Master Zhu 朱子新學案. Vols. 2 and 4. Beijing 北京: Jiuzhou Press 九州出版社. (Good studies of Zhu’s philosophical concepts, relations with people such as the four masters and Lu Jiuyuan, and also his other contributions such as his studies on calligraphy and the six classics.) Shu, Jingnan 束景南. 1992. A Full Biography of Master Zhu 朱子大傳. Fuzhou 福州: Fujian Educational Press 福建教育出版社. (A comprehensive biography of Zhu Xi from a perspective of diverse cultural visions in detail.) ———. 2001. Zhu Xi’s Chronological Record 朱熹年譜長編. 2 vols. Shanghai 上海: Huadong Normal University Press 華東師範大學出版社. (A new study of Zhu Xi’s life and works according to the original materials about Zhu Xi.) Tuo, Tuo 脫脫. 1985. The History of Song Dynasty 宋史. Vol. 36. Beijing 北京: Zhonghua Shuju 中華書局. (A history of Song dynasty, compiled officially in Yuan dynasty.) Tillman, Hoyt C. (Tian, Hao) 田浩. 2009. Zhu Xi’s World of Thought 朱熹的思維世界. Jiangsu Renmin Press 江蘇人民出版社. (A study of Zhu Xi’s thoughts with the the Southern Song dynasty as a background.) Wang, Maohong 王懋竑. 1998. Chronological Biography of Master Zhu 朱子年譜. Beijing北京: Zhonghua Shuju 中華書局. (This book provides many valuable materials about Zhu Xi’s life and works.) Xiang, Shiling 向世陵. 2015. The Studies of Classics and Philosophy in Song Dynasty: Fundamental Theory Volume 宋代經學哲學研究:基本理論卷, Shanghai 上海: Shanghai Scientific and Technological Literature Press 上海科學技術文獻出版社. (This book discusses the basic philosophical problems in the Song dynasties from the perspective of classics studies.) ———. 2017. “Zhang Shi’s Doctrine of Ren and His Discussions Centered around Ren and Love 張栻的仁說及仁與愛之辨.” Academic Monthly 學術月刊 49.6: 42–50. (A detailed examination of Zhang Shi’s discussion of benevolence with Zhu Xi.)

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Zhang, Liwen 張立文. 1981. Studies of Zhu Xi’s Ideas 朱熹思想研究. Chinese Social Science Press 中國社會科學出版社. (A rich study of Zhu Xi from wide-ranged aspects.) ———. 1992. On the Way to the Studies of Heart-Mind: The Footmark of Lu Xiangshan’s Thoughts 走向心學之路:陸象山思想的足跡. Beijing 北京: Zhonghua Press 中華書局. (A rich study of Lu Xiangshan in comparison with the thought of Zhu Xi.) ——— ed. 2013. The Grand Dictionary on Zhu Xi 朱熹大辭典, Shanghai 上海: Shanghai Cishu Chubanshe 上海辭書出版社. (This dictionary provides details about Zhu Xi’s life, works, thoughts, historical influences in Asian countries, and the development of Zhu Xi’s studies in modern world.) Zhang, Shi 張栻. 2015. Collected Works of Zhang Shi 張栻集. Beijing 北京: Zhonghua Shuju 中 華書局. (This book collects all the works of Zhang Shi that have been preserved.) Zhang, Zai 張載. 1978. Collected Works of Zhang Zai 張載集. Beijing 北京: Zhonghua Shuju 中 華書局. (This book collects all the materials by Zhang Zai together, such as his philosophical ideas, his commentaries on The Book Changes, his studies of classics, his conversartions with others, and his other writtings.) Zhou, Dunyi 周敦頤. 2009. Collected Works of Zhou Dunyi 周敦頤集. Beijing 北京: Zhonghua Shuju 中華書局. (This book collectes Zhou Dunyi’s works of The Great Ultimate 太極圖 and Penetrating Book 通書 and Zhu Xi’s commentaries on them.) Zhu, Xi 朱熹. 1986. Classified Conversation of Master Zhu (Vols. 6 and 7) 朱子語類. Beijing 北京: Zhonghua Shuju 中華書局. (A collection of Zhu’s conversation with his students and others on wide-ranging topics, including his philosophical ideas, his understanding of the five masters, Buddhism, Daoism, etc.) ———. 2002. Collected Works of Master Zhu 朱子全書. Beijing 北京: Zhonghua Shuju 中華書 局. (A great collection of all Zhu Xi’s works and writings.) Jifen Li is an assistant professor at the School of Philosophy, Renmin University of China. Her research interests include Neo-Confucianism, Chinese classical p­ hilosophy, and comparative studies between Western Philosophy and Eastern Philosophy. Her current research focuses on Xunzi.  

Shiling Xiang is a professor at the School of Chinese Classics, Renmin University of China. He also serves as the vice dean at the Confucius Research Institute of Renmin University of China. His main research interests are studies of Confucian Philosophy, especially the studies of NeoConfucianism and Chinese Classical Philosophy.  

Chapter 3

Zhu Xi’s Hermeneutics On-cho Ng

1 Introduction Penning an essay on Zhu Xi’s thoughts in terms of hermeneutics implies a comparative agenda and perspective. While constructing the rationale and practice of Zhu’s exegesis of the classics by appealing to Western philosophies of reading, touching on such hermeneutic issues as original meaning, contemporary appropriation, authorial intent, and readerly contingency, I hope to throw into relief the cross-­ cultural consonance and dissonance discernible in the acts of interpretation. The aim is to shed some light on the attendant counterpoint engendered by divergent cultural assumptions, contrasting religio-philosophical values, varying epistemological stances, and different ontological conceptions of canonicity, authorship, and readership. To address comparatively reading matters East and West via Zhu Xi’s commentarial efforts, and to claim that reading is a universal imperative, is to posit that between commensurability and contravention, common paths of reading toward a deeper understanding of our diverse textual testaments may be paved. At the same time, I affirm the deeply ingrained contextual variances that inform our very own presentist hermeneutics of the projects of reading and interpreting. In studying Zhu’s readings of the Chinese classic, I am entering, as it were, an interpretive war zone between empirically recovering what he says and theoretically creating from it a twenty-first century account of his hermeneutic moves. The zone begins with the comparative and Confucian contexts in which we may properly locate Zhu’s exegetical endeavor and lucubration, followed by the lineaments of his hermeneutics as regards fundamental assumptions, strategies, and processes, while offering a few examples of his exegesis as illustrations. In the end, I argue that Zhu sees the reading of the classics as a charismatic and religious act, wherein the reader penetrates O.-c. Ng (*) Department of Asian Studies, Pennsylvania State University, University Park, PA, USA e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2020 K.-c. Ng, Y. Huang (eds.), Dao Companion to ZHU Xi’s Philosophy, Dao Companions to Chinese Philosophy 13, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-29175-4_3

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the minds of their sagely authors, thereby apprehending the universal truths vouchsafed by them. It is charismatic because the sagacious reader is endowed with the special gift to divine the minds of the sages; it is religious because the act of reading is entirely and ultimately committed to apprehending eternal truths that transcend the confines of time and space.

2 Hermeneutic Contexts: Comparative and Confucian A good measure of hermeneutic charity is always required in any reading, especially a cross-cultural one, to the extent that any interpretive position can only be established after a sympathetic engagement with what is read. Such charity is not automatic agreement and endorsement; it is openness and readiness to understand what is being interpreted. Therefore, in order to launch a study of Zhu’s hermeneutics in comparative terms, it behooves one to rehearse the outlines of some modern Western iterations, in hopes of identifying the main goals and imports of reading, particularly with regard to the classics, insofar as a significant twentieth-century development in Anglo-European philosophy has been the preoccupation with the nature of reading, premised on the principle that ideas involve interpretations and understandings relative to historical contexts (Mazlish 1998: 83–128; Wachterhauser 1994: 1–2). Here, for the sake of brevity, I use Gadamer’s hermeneutics as a major representative of the sort of Western philosophy of interpretation that resonates with Confucian hermeneutics, of which Zhu Xi’s exegesis is integrally a part. Gadamer debunks the myth of autonomously objective interpretations, claiming that we understand the world through historical tradition. Therefore, reading does not align with disinterested objectivity, because in interpretation, there is no emergence of entirely new understanding but only the expansion and refinement of what we already know through our own traditions; understanding is recovery of tradition (Cf. Ricoeur 1981, passim). To explain the historical embeddedness of understanding, Gadamer highlights the importance of prejudice (or pre-understanding), authority, and tradition, elements that modern thought tend to attenuate. “Prejudice,” which foregrounds our knowledge, is the “biases of our openness to the world. They are conditions whereby what we encounter says something to us” (Gadamer 1976: 9). One legitimate prejudice is the acceptance of authority, not because of its coercive prerogative but because of our validation of another’s judgment. Gadamer rejects the Enlightenment assumption of a basic antithesis between “tradition” and “reason,” as the latter takes place within the former. This also accounts for the timelessness of the classics that speak to our own historical horizons: “Timelessness is a mode of historical being” (Gadamer 1994: 277–90). This consciousness of tradition, or the manner in which we inhabit tradition, is our “historically effected consciousness” that enables both the “fusion of horizons,” and provides awareness of the ontological condition of all understanding (Gadamer 1994: 306). To wit, the reality undergirding understanding is constituted by the historical horizons that are present. Such understanding is expressed also in practical application. True

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u­ nderstanding is manifested in the knowledge of how something is applied to our own historical conditions: “Understanding here is always application” (Gadamer 1994: 309). Moreover, these applications are also fundamentally moral practices based on a growing understanding of the classics and traditions, which discourage immoral practice and consolidate the “norms of conduct in the sense of right and wrong” (Gadamer 2001: 74–75). Moral knowledge based on prudent judgment forms a core of human praxis. The moral is always encountered in the context of the specific requirements within particular situations, making evaluative claims on how we see the world. Moreover, moral knowledge is not acquired simply by personal choice, to the extent that we derive it from traditions that define proper conduct. Moral knowledge also enables our empathetic understanding of others, so that they are not reduced into mere objects (Gadamer 1994: 312–41). As a result, technical and theoretical knowledge does not suffice; knowledge must be the foundation of Bildung—human cultivation and flourishing. The application of understanding is the experiencing and living of knowledge through culture, affirming the partial and finite character of human existence while accommodating openness to new experiences. It is a fusion of horizons whereby one’s prejudices are revised in order to embrace selectively the justified claims of another tradition. Thus, our search for understanding within the confines of tradition involves us in what Gadamer calls the “I–Thou” relationship. Because “I” myself am integrally related to the “Thou” that is the living tradition in which I am embedded, the latter can never be treated as a separate entity. This connection is enabled through language, since the tradition of which we are a part is language. Thus, understanding involves translation. It may be said that the fusion of horizons is the fusion of languages via translations, through which new textual meanings and new human understandings may be generated (Gadamer 1994: 384–89). In this way, then, Gadamer’s philosophical hermeneutics may be seen as a theory of culture anchored on Bildung, which, as an educative process and project, makes culture possible; in fact, it is the embodiment and extension of a culture defined by rules of its renewed traditions and accepted languages (Gadamer 1994: 9–19). Gadamer’s hermeneutic philosophy in many ways strikes consonant chords with Confucian conceptions of knowledge and culture: veneration of tradition; continuity between history and culture; resistance against objectifying nature; immersion of the self in the world through moral cultivation as fiduciary commitment; and acceptance of the integrity of language as a sound representation of reality. In a word, there is the shared belief that human beings, and their ideas and activities, are rooted in traditions, as Yü Ying-shih has observed (2016: 368–84). Yet, the commonalities belie the differences. Most notably, Gadamer’s hermeneutics, in its essentials, is epistemology, concerned with the brute facts of interpreting and understanding. By contrast, Confucian hermeneutics is based on the apprehension of the ultimate—the homo-cosmic dao 道 (the Way), tian 天 (Heaven), or li 理 (principle) embedded in the classical texts whose messages must be realized in human living (Ng 2003: 373–85). By asserting the historicity of the human condition, Gadamer contends that knowledge and understanding are essentially generated by the dialogic interpenetration of the past and present—the “fusion of horizons.” Since texts and other

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forms of data belong to history, they cannot be reduced to mere objects of disinterested investigation (Weinsheimer 1985: 155). This radical historicity (and therefore, finitude and limitation) of understanding is at variance with the Confucian onto-­ cosmological conception of learning, according to which the knowledge of heaven, the Way, and principle are immanent in all aspects of humanity (Liu 2001: 141–42). Gadamer’s conception of reality as radical historicity renders tradition into an unstable ground of rationality. For him, the Scripture, like any other texts, is subject to scholarly and scientific investigation, as with nature and all other aspects of the universe. He formulates a general theory of truth by devising a method with the constitutive components of understanding. His central question is how understanding is enabled and made possible, a quintessentially epistemological question. Gadamer’s hermeneutics offers a meta-method of reading that gets at the Being of reading (Gadamer 1994: 280–81). On the other hand, the leitmotif of Confucian classical exegesis is the totalizing dao, li, and tian, the realization of which is the embodiment of the moral-ritual order established by the ancient sages. The Way is the aggregate of names (ming 名)— realities—rectified by realizing the self in the web of social relations. Being the cultural manifestation of the sages’ teachings, it is the ground of norms and values. Apprehending the dao is not merely an epistemological process; it also involves the experiential living of the Way (Hansen 1995: 184–88; Chen 2000: 101–5). The Confucian claims about knowledge of dao/tian/ti involves a metapraxis in which virtue, reason, knowing, and action converge (Kasulis 1992: 173–75). Such an ontological grounding of knowledge is clearly revealed in the Yijing 易經 (Classic of Changes), for example, which depicts a holistic universe of creativity and harmony through the 64 hexagrams. The hexagram of guan 觀 is “comprehensive observation,” which is not merely dissection of reality as the object, since guan involves feeling for and response (ganying 感應) to heaven, earth, and humanity. The hexagram qian 乾 is at once the beginning of reality and the knowledge of that beginning. In realizing oneself, one also observes and understands the cosmos, such that knowledge is not merely probing knowledge for knowledge’s sake, because onto-­ cosmological being is at once epistemological discursion and experiential becoming (Cheng 2003: 289–312). Accordingly, Confucian hermeneutics is ontologically premised on the universality of the dao-in-classics, which is tradition-cum-culture. There is conviction in the ultimate redemptive power of self-cultivation, including learning and reading, which presumes the oneness of the self (the reader) and the sages (authors of the classics) (Gardner 1991: 574–603). Thus, Confucian hermeneutics, unlike the Gadamerian counterpart, aims at realizing the Way (that is, culture par excellence) by apprehending the values of the classics via moral acts. It is shot through, as it were, with a religiousness in the sense of the desire and intention to realize identification with the ultimate.

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3 Hermeneutic Premise: Classics as the Encasement of Eternal Truths This prolegomenon on the commonality and divergence between Confucian and Gadamerian hermeneutics serves as the context of my construal of the content and import of Zhu Xi’s commentarial efforts. The very existence of diverse and rich classical commentaries, to which Zhu made enormous contributions, may suggest that reading the classics is a function of the particular contexts of their receptions; that is, readers from varying times read differently. Unquestionably, the Chinese classics are sites of interpretive contestation, as many readings do show the instability of the texts with multivalent meanings, contingent on the readers’ prejudices and the texts’ situatedness. It is certainly plausible to claim that the Chinese world of reading is an open hermeneutic space that accommodates pluralistic interpretations (Gu 2005, passim). However, the apparent openness is deceptive, for the readings are done within a communal interpretive context in which the classics are taken as vessels of truths. The word jing 經, etymologically derived from the idea of the warp, as opposed to the weft, of the fabric, connotes the underpinning sense of continuity and regularity, such that jing should be understood as rule, law, and norm (Karlgren 1964: 222). The classics are thus presumed to be texts with normative authority based on their authorial meanings and communicative intents. The sages are the very sources of the jing and the englobing culture, or wen 文. The classics are therefore alive and enlivening, providing the means to maintain contact with the ancient sage-rulers. With their creedal authority, these texts function as the cultural model and textual tradition that define a community (Taylor 1990: 23–32). In this sense, the Confucian hermeneutic engagement with the classics is a religious quest, insofar as it is inspired by the universal and timeless truths vouchsafed by the sages. The goal is to reveal and retrieve the ultimate truths inherent in the sages’ words and texts. Accordingly, we should note that even though Zhu Xi’s interest in the classics, in the last analysis, is neither theoretical nor philosophy but rather political and cultural, his hermeneutics is inspired by the quest for the ultimate, that is, the realization of principle, li 理. Furthermore, Zhu’s hermeneutics is a charismatic reading, based on the very premise that the reader can penetrate the mind of the classics’ authors (the sages) by virtue of the pursuit of self-cultivation and investigation of things, which eventuates in the apprehension of the ultimate principle of li (Taylor 1990: 32–36; Gardner 1983: 183–204; 1991: 574–603; 1998: 397–422; Levey 2000: 262–66; Herman 2001: 103–28). Zhu therefore conflates and identifies li with the sages, telling us in no uncertain terms that “the sages and li are one (Zhu 1970: [8] 13),” and that “the sagely ones are so called because of their oneness with heavenly principle (tianli 天理), thereby not having even one self-centered thought” (Zhu 1970: [57] 2). In fact, this sagacious heart-mind of the sages can be found in everyone. Any interpretive latitude in Zhu’s exegesis owes much to his identification of the reader with the author, who share the same heart-mind: “The heart-mind of all under heaven is like the heart-mind of the sages. With heaven and earth’s

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g­ iving life to the ten thousand things, there is a heart-mind of heaven and earth in each thing. With the sages in the world, every person has a heart-mind of the sages” (Quoted in Herman 2001: 114). Elsewhere, Zhu contends, “It is the case that the understanding of the myriad is rooted in the one heart-mind. Preserving this heart-­ mind is what is called humaneness (ren 仁)” (Zhu 2000: [7] 75). In other words, realizing principle may occur outside of the remit of words and texts. Through the one universal heart-mind, reading and understanding manifest the cardinal virtue of humaneness. Therefore, if Zhu seems to take great liberty in handling textual and philological matters, it is because textual investigation, as an end and exercise in itself, is not sufficient for the ultimate grasping of the truth of li 理, tian 天, and dao 道. He cautions scholars of his days: “Scholars of today are sure of themselves but do not know the main thing about learning, which is only to fully exhaust this very principle of the Way, which is heavenly principle. Even without the sages’ works, this heaven’s principle is in the midst of heaven and earth” (Zhu 1970: [9] 7). Zhu asserts: “The six Classics are the works of the three Dynasties and before, and having passed through the hands of the sages, they are in their entirety heavenly principle” (Zhu 1970: [11] 12). Zhu affirms that the Classics constitute the foundation of the ideal self and society, or the Way, in brief: The sages wrote the Classics in order to teach later generations. These texts enable the reader to reflect on the ideas of the sages while reciting their words and hence to understand what is in accordance with the principle of things. Understanding the whole substance of the proper Way, he will practice the Way with all his strength, and so enter into the realm of the sages and worthies. (Quoted in Gardner 1990: 96)

The Confucian community is guided by and subjected to the authority of the Classics—the words and teachings of the sages—that bring the community’s moral identity into being: The sages’ teachings, imparted to the masses, are generally statements concerning daily utility and routine actions such as filial piety, fraternity reverence, loyalty, and trustworthiness. If people can follow them in their deeds, their unruly heart-minds will then be naturally restrained and their befuddled natures will then be naturally illuminated. (Zhu 1970: [8] 1)

For Zhu, what the sages say carries authority because they are profoundly intelligent beings endowed with “inborn knowledge” (shengzhi 生知): “The sages innately know and are thus at ease with [their] actions, being entirely one with heavenly principle” (Zhu 2010: 245; Lee 2015: 79–108). To the extent that the classics, authored by the percipient sages, are the textual manifestations of principle, Zhu’s hermeneutics, which aims at exegetical extraction of their ultimate truths, is religious in nature. Specifically, through exegesis, the ultimate reality of li and dao finds its textual corroboration in the classics. Zhu’s interpretations of these texts, however seemingly far-fetched and wide-ranging, aim not to relax their authoritative mastery but to restore them. This religious reverence for the sages and their words is the hermeneutic animus of Zhu’s commentaries. For it is through these texts that we come to know the ultimate moral principles (li) of state, society, and

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the self, and Zhu has the abiding faith that we will succeed in doing so, as we all have the same heart-mind as that of the sages after all.

4 Hermeneutic Process: The Way of Reading Zhu Xi spares no effort in tracking the correct way and method of reading. In the section entitled “Method of Reading (Dushu fa 讀書法)” in The Classified Sayings of Master Zhu (Zhuzi yulei 朱子語類), and elsewhere, Zhu meticulously tells us how to read in order to reach understanding of the sages’ teachings. He claims that first and foremost, “reading is one component of the investigation of things. . . . The Way is the roots and trunk of texts, and texts are the branches and leaves of the Way. Because their roots and trunk are the Way, what are expressed in texts are always the Way” (Zhu 1986: 3319). To investigate things in the context of reading and learning is to “rely on the classics to understand principle. Once principle is apprehended, there is then no need for the classics” (Zhu 1986: 192). Through reading, we seek “. . . to observe the intentions of the sages and worthies. Following the intentions of the sages and worthies, natural principle is observed. Fathoming the sages’ intentions is . . . like speaking with them face to face” (Zhu 1986: 162). This process of communicating with the sages through reading must be executed with care and thoroughness, seeking to get to the core meanings of the words: “The words of the sages and worthies have layers and layers [of meaning], and must be probed deeply. If only the surface is made use of, there will be distortions and mistakes. They must be deeply plumbed” (Zhu 1986: 162). Practically, it means reading over and over again the texts so that there is complete familiarity: Reading is a task in the investigation of things (gewu yishi 格物一事). We must now carefully savor the taste of each paragraph, reading it over and over again. In one day or two days, only one paragraph is read, and this paragraph then becomes a part of us. After establishing a solid foothold in this paragraph, we then read the second paragraph. We persist and persevere in this way. After such persistence, we will discern the principle of the Way in its entirety. Such effort requires reflection while standing, thinking, and sitting [i.e., incessantly], every now and again reflecting repeatedly on what is already known. Then understanding will naturally occur, without our making arrangements for it. The phraseology and meaning of a text may have been explained this way or that, but each time it is read, there is a new understanding. Therefore, for any text, each individual reading leads to revision. For texts whose explications have been firmly established, each reading leads to firmer discernment, with far greater clarity. Therefore I have said that reading does not value copiousness; [it] only values familiarity with what is read. Nonetheless, the hard work will only yield results if we bravely move forward, not ever thinking about retreating or turning back. (Zhu 1986: 167)

Zhu directly cautions against cursory reading that skims over the text: “I particularly don’t want people to pick and choose when they read. Reading must involve the explanation and understanding of each paragraph and each sentence, one after another” (Zhu 1986: 167). There is no shortcut in reading, which demands total concentration:

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O.-c. Ng In reading, you should just look at the meanings of the words of a paragraph in question. There is surely no need to create side issues. While reading the one paragraph, you must read it over and over again. You have to be totally familiar with it. Only then can the meanings be seen; only then can pleasure be felt. Only if you don’t relish the idea of moving on to read another paragraph will you apprehend [the one paragraph you are reading]. People often forge ahead without looking back to reflect, only wishing to look at tomorrow’s stuff that has not yet been read, and not ever inquiring about yesterday’s stuff that has been read. You must over and over again savor the flavors [of the text]; only then will you attain [understanding]. If the effort exerted is great, understanding is extensive. When understanding is extensive, its utility is lasting and assured. (Zhu 1986: 167)

This unremitting concentration is required because “reading must be the exhaustive plumbing of the principle of the Way so as to get to the bottom of it” (Zhu 1986: 163). Words are the very location of the Way: “Where our Way (wudao 吾道) resides does not lie outside the bounds of language, speech, and words (yanyu wenzi 言語文字)” (Zhu 1983: 15). Reading, therefore, is a matter of assuming the right mind-set and attitude, wherein reverential attention (jing 敬) is exercised in such a way that the heart-mind becomes steady and stable: Reading must involve focus. Read this one sentence and then understand this one sentence. Read this one chapter and then understand this one chapter. It must be that one chapter is completed before another chapter should be read. Don’t think about another chapter and another sentence. You only need to coolly and calmly read on the side [you are working on], and you also should not exert the heart-mind and think excessively, as before long, you may harm your spirit. The respected ones who came before us said: “In reading, we cannot but exercise reverential attention (jing 敬). With reverential attention comes focused concentration, and the heart-mind will not depart.” (Zhu 1986: 168)

Reading also means letting the heart-mind openly and freely encounter the text in question, so Zhu avers: In reading to discern the principle of the Way, one must be open-minded, transparently and plainly tolerant, freely going [to where the reading leads]. The first thing is not to oblige your reading with results, as the obligation for results will result in underlying worries and anxieties. Thus, [worries and anxieties] will congeal into something like a cake in the mind, which does not break up. Now, just let go of trivial matters and don’t think trivial thoughts. You have to only focus your heart-mind to savor the taste of moral principles, and then your heart-mind will become refined. With the refined heart-mind, there will be familiarity [with principle]. (Zhu 1986: 164)

For Zhu, proper reading is calling the heart-mind to action. In the absence of the heart-mind, no meaning and fruitful reading can take place, to the extent that principle can never be discerned: “Because their heart-minds are not present when scholars read books, they do not discern principle. The words of the sages and worthies are originally clear in and of themselves. With a little thinking, they can naturally be discerned. If the heart-mind is focused, how can they not be discerned?” Zhu goes on to say: “Because the heart-mind is not stable, principle is not discerned. So now in reading books, the heart-mind must first be stabilized, rendering it like still water and a bright mirror. How can a murky mirror reflect things?” (Zhu 1986: 177). At times, we may even have to let our heart-mind go empty, meaning that we

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need to free it from distractions and puzzlements, so that the unencumbered heart-­ mind may impress itself upon the text: There is a method to reading books. It is just to scrub clean the heart-mind. If you do not understand [what you are reading], put [the book] down and wait till your ideas and thoughts are clear before picking it up in due time. Now we talk about having an empty heart-mind, but how can the heart-mind be emptied? It is just to place the heart-mind onto the text. (Zhu 1986: 177)

In short, reading is premised on the right mental and spiritual resolve. It is a matter of commitment (zhi 志). Zhu asks rhetorically: “If the establishment of commitment is not secure, how can books be read?” (Zhu 1986: 177). Zhu urges single-minded devotion, “Shut the door, close the gate, and cut off the four accesses. That is the very time to start reading.” With unyielding determination and unalloyed absorption, “the scholar knows that he should be reading books only, being entirely unaware of the surroundings. Only then is there the special sense [of reading]” (Zhu 1986: 163). For Zhu, reading is the existential striving of exacting exertion. We cannot slacken for a moment; it is as if a dagger and sword were at one’s back, goading the reader: In reading a text, read a large passage with the utmost appreciation. Rouse your spirit, keep your body upright, and don’t fret, as though a dagger and a sword were at your back! Be most thoroughgoing in penetrating even one passage. Hit its head and the tail will respond; hit its tail and the head will respond. Only then is reading done right. It should not be the case that you are with the book when it is opened, and you forget it when it is closed. [Nor should it be the case that] when you look at the commentary, you forget the original text, and when you look at the original, you forget the commentary. You must fully penetrate one passage before moving on to later pages. (Zhu 1986: 163)

In vivid terms, Zhu impresses on us the emotional impact of reading, which leaves scars on us: “What must be necessary is to leave one scar with one blow of the truncheon, to have blood on the palm with one slap! This is precisely the case when you read others’ words. How can you ever ignore that?” (Zhu 1986: 164). He analogizes reading as the implementation of the severest of laws: “Reading words and texts is like a cruel official applying the severest of laws to the extreme, entirely devoid of human sentiments. If they are just casually read, then where are the taste and flavor? Whenever there are places in the text that we don’t understand, you must exert the utmost effort, not stopping until you thoroughly discern the moral principles” (Zhu 1986: 164). He sees reading as an elaborate and cunning sleuthing process of catching a thief: “Reading texts and words is like catching a thief. You must reconstruct the details of the crime, including stolen items worth no more than a penny. If only the general outline [of the theft] is portrayed, even though you know who the thief is, you will still not know where the theft was committed” (Zhu 1986: 164). Reading is the grandiose act of navigating a huge vessel: Reading a text should be like a tall ship and huge vessel, navigating in the wind with large sails, traveling a thousand miles a day. Only then is reading properly done. These days, [the ships and vessels], upon just leaving the small harbor, run aground. Nothing has been accomplished! We may see the inability to understand the words and texts in this way. (Zhu 1986: 164)

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The love of reading is akin to the fondness for drinking: “When one reads, it is like drinking liquor. If one loves drinking liquor, once a cup is finished, another one is wanted. If one does not like imbibing, one stops after forcing down one cup” (Zhu 1986: 174). All of these examples, couched in lively and graphic language, serve to underscore the unrelenting nature of the act of reading. Zhu laments that readers of his day, not having a stabilized heart-mind and established commitment, tend to move too fast through the text, such that their mind is always ahead of what is being read, hoping to reach the end as soon as possible. He advises: “The reader should not be obsessed with the idea of finishing, as once there is this obsession, the mind will be fixated on the blank page at the very end” (Zhu 1986: 173). He reminds us that reading is like observing the features of a house. Knowing its exterior is only the first step; we must also scrutinize every detail in the interior: When people read a text these days, even when they have not reached a certain point here and now, their minds are already on what comes later. When they do reach the point here and now, they want to abandon it and move forward. Accordingly, they themselves do not seek thorough understanding. We must linger and love what is being read, as though we cannot bear to leave it. Only then can we understand entirely. . . . Reading is like observing a house here. If we view the house from the outside and say that it has been seen, there is no way for us to get to know it. We must go inside, viewing everything individually, and making inquiry into the size and the layout, and the extent of the latticework and windows. After the first viewing, we need to continue to see it time and again, so that the entire whole is committed to memory. Such is the right way. (Zhu 1986: 173)

To put it another way, reading, and eventually understanding, means going beyond the surface words and meanings: After reading the words, one stops because one thinks that one already attains understanding. In fact, after such understanding, one must ponder if there is more behind [the words]. Moreover, even if one picks up a piece of text and reads it, one may not entirely and thoroughly understand its meanings, let alone the moral principles. As the respected elders would say, even if [a text] seems easily comprehensible, it is not the case that its meanings are explained and apprehended. It must be read and read again, thereby focusing on reading and focusing on obtaining the meanings. (Zhu 1986: 173)

Interestingly, Zhu likens thorough and painstaking reading to the deep savoring of the flavor of a piece of fruit, or the proper irrigation of a garden: Generally speaking, to read is surely to become familiar with what is read. After being familiar with what is read, reading is naturally refined. With refined reading, principle can naturally be discerned. It is like eating a piece of fruit. When it is first bitten into, the flavor is not discerned, but it is eaten anyway. It must be chewed carefully until it is broken down, and then the flavor will come out. Only then will we begin to know if it is sweet or bitter, nectarous or acrid; only then will we begin to know the flavor. . . . Gardeners water the gardens. Those who are adept in watering do so with the vegetables and fruits individually, according to their needs. Before long, the watering is sufficient. The soil and water are well balanced, and plants, receiving nourishment, will naturally grow. Those who are not adept in watering rush to take care of things, using buckets and buckets to saturate the vegetables in the garden. People may see to their tending the garden, but the plants never do get proper watering. . . . The way of reading is such that the more effort is exerted, the more far-­ reaching are the accomplishments. The beginning is difficult but the rewards come in the

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end. First embark on the business at hand and make gains later. All of these are the same principle. (Zhu 1986: 167)

Hard though it is to engage in reading, Zhu does optimistically remind us that the process does get easier as one continues with the life-long pursuit: “The method of reading is such that one reads with great diligence. Much effort is expended on the initial book, but later ones will not require much [effort]. At the beginning, one book will consume every bit of the energy. The following one will consume eighty to ninety percent, and the following one will consume sixty to seventy percent, and the following one will consume forty to fifty percent” (Zhu 1986: 167). Nevertheless, Zhu’s admonition is clear and clarion—be completely immersed in the act of reading so that the reader, after having been completely familiarized with what is being read, continues to question and pursue the meaning and purport of the text. The rule of the day is “intense reading” (shudu 熟讀), that is, literally to cook the read text, as evidenced in the following exhortatory passages: Generally speaking, reading a book must involve intimate familiarity [with it], such that all its words will seem to come from one’s own mouth. Continuing to reflect intently on it, all its ideas will seem to come from my own heart-mind. Only then is there success. Yet, after intimate reading and focused thinking that lead to understanding, we must question if there is more to this, and then there may be further progress. If you think that this is the end, then there will never be progress again. (Zhu 1986: 168) A book must be read until it is intimately familiar. What is called a book is a generic [thing]. But it is in the end different after being read ten times, compared to one time, and naturally, it is different after being read a hundred times, compared to ten times. (Zhu 1986: 168) In reading, it is not the case that the principle of the Way can be discerned by only reading one part. As with taking medicine, how can one dose cure the ailment? It must be taken, dose after dose. After taking it many times, the efficacy of the medicine will take effect in due course. (Zhu 1986: 173) The method of reading begins with intense reading. You must look at the front and the back, and the left and the right. But even when you think the correct view is attained, it still cannot be said that the Way is there. You must still savor the text time and again. (Zhu 1986: 165)

However, reading must also be a discriminating and delimiting process; it cannot be an unrestrained act of indiscriminate consumption of texts. Zhu asks us to be a judicious reader: Reading cannot be done without establishing the limit at the outset. [It] should be managed like farm work, where the farms have boundaries. Such is also the case in the pursuit of learning. Today’s scholars do not realize this principle, so that when they first start, they are tremendously eager. But then they become gradually slothful, and in the end, they pay no attention whatsoever. This is all because there is no setting of the limit at the very outset. (Zhu 1986: 174)

Zhu sees “reading less” as a sound strategy, as long as we plunge headlong into what we read with intensity, purpose, and critical judgment: “Read less, but peruse intensely [what is being read]; experience and test repeatedly [what is being read]; and refrain resolutely from calculations of gains [from what is being read]. These

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are the only three things that should be constantly adhered to” (Zhu 1986: 165). Zhu realizes that our attention span and memory are often short, so while we should devote much time to reading, we should also establish a reasonable regimen: It is appropriate to read less and to read intensely. Children remember what have been read, and many adults tend to forget. It is simply because children’s minds are focused. When a hundred characters are taught in a day, there are only a hundred characters; if taught two hundred characters, there are then only two hundred characters. Adults may read a hundred pages in a day, not being essentially focused. Many people read ten individual pieces, whereas they should be reading one piece out of ten. Be generous with the time allotted to reading but be strict with the curriculum. (Zhu 1986: 165)

Again: In reading, be modest with the design of curriculum, but lavish with the exertion of effort. Even if you can read two hundred characters, read only a hundred characters, but exert the fiercest of efforts on the hundred characters. Understand every little detail. Read and recite until what is taught [in the reading] becomes familiar. In this way, even forgetful people will naturally remember, and those who lack the native ability to comprehend will also be able to understand. If you read much but in a general, superficial way, there are no benefits at all. In reading a text, you may not read at the same time what has not been read, but you may at the same time read what has been read before. (Zhu 1986: 165)

Zhu warns us time and again not to covet copiousness and value overmuch the quantity of reading: “In reading, you should not covet copiousness. Rather, be expert and familiar [with what is read] . . . and your reading will be right only if you discern directly the meanings and intents of the ancients” (Zhu 1986: 166). We have only limited energy and we must use it wisely, lest we put ourselves in the undesirable state of exhaustion: In reading, you should not covet copiousness. Make sure that you always have enough surplus energy. . . . You must thoroughly read one book before reading another book. If you proceed with both in such a disorderly manner, you will end up being trapped by them. It is like shooting a bow. Even if you have five pecks of strength, you use a bow with four pecks of power, so that you may perform a complete pull while still having strength left. Scholars nowadays don’t consider their strength when reading, and so I fear that they are unable to take care of themselves. (Zhu 1986: 166)

Judicious reading also means developing the ability to make connections and get to the heart of what we are reading. In reading, you must know the place where everything connects. Whether it is the east or the west, they are all in contact at this pivotal point. Only so is [understanding] achieved. Just focus your head on the task at hand, not thinking about the past or predicting the future, and you will naturally reach the place. But now you say that you did not complete [the task]; you fear that it is difficult; you fear that you are by nature unintelligent; and you fear you are forgetful. All this is idle talk! Just focus your head on the task at hand, and do not ask if you will be slow or fast. Soon you will get to the place. If you have not done this before, you should now exert effort to make amends. Don’t be looking around worriedly at your front or back, thinking and considering east and west, or before long, you will have frittered away your whole life, not knowing that you have grown old! (Zhu 1986: 164)

We must savor the text so as to feel its flavor, which is Zhu’s metaphor for the moral principles embedded in the sagely words: “In reading, it is only by focusing atten-

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tion on and savoring the taste [of the text] that moral principles can be seen to be emerging from the prose and words.” That necessitates attention lavished on the style and words of the text: “In reading, one must discern the rhetorical style and verbal continuity” (Zhu 1986: 173). In so doing, we can identify places where the essential meanings are displayed: “In reading, you must look for an opening in the text, for only then will the moral principles be found in the most thorough manner. If the opening is not discerned, then there is no way to enter the text. Discerning an opening, the context and continuity of the text will naturally be laid bare” (Zhu 1986: 162). Zhu offers advice on the nitty-gritty of tackling a text by breaking it up into manageable pieces: “When it comes to [reading] long passages of words and phrases, tackle in the most painstaking way three to five points, and what comes next will be easily solved, like the knife splitting [the bamboo]. What afflicts scholars is superficial [effort], not being painstakingly immersed [in learning]” (Zhu 1986: 162). Alluding to the effortless execution by Butcher Ding in the Zhuangzi 莊子, Zhu argues that one must not be overwhelmed by the whole text, but instead key in on specific passages and points: “When scholars first view a text, they see only an amorphous mass. In time, two or three pieces will be seen. But it is only when ten or more [are seen] that there is progress. It is like Butcher Ding dissecting the ox. He gets it right when he no longer sees the whole ox” (Zhu 1986: 163). It is also of the utmost importance not to impose one’s preconceived views onto the writings by the ancient authors, so that their original intentions can be retrieved: When people nowadays read, they begin by first setting up their opinions before reading. They gather all the words of the ancients in so as to create their own meanings. This way, merely one’s own intentions are elaborated; how can the intentions of the ancients be seen? Humbly place the words of the ancients before you and see where their intentions are going. As Mencius says: “One meets the aims [of the poet] with one’s intention.” Now “meets” means “await.” It is as though you are waiting for someone on the road ahead. When he hasn’t come, you must wait patiently, and the time will come when he arrives. If when he hasn’t arrived and you become impatient and move ahead to find him, then you are not meeting the aim with intention, but rather apprehending the aim by using your intention. This way, you are just twisting the words of the ancients to suit your own intentions. There will in the end be no progress and gains made. (Zhu 1986: 180)

In the final analysis, Zhu sees reading canonical texts as a part of the existential project of cultivation, involving both the heart-mind and the body: “When people pursue learning, they always desire to attain it in their heart-minds and experience it with their bodies. But without reading books, they will not know what the heart-­ mind actually attains” (Zhu 1986: 176). To learn through reading is a way is to extend principle to the utmost (qiongli 窮理) by embodying knowledge: Reading books and plumbing principle should always be embodied in the body. I do not know if what you usually study, fully connect with, probe, and investigate can be seen daily within the heart-mind. If not, then you will just be following the texts and chasing after the meanings, and in the times of meeting deadlines, joy cannot be seen, and in the end, you will not benefit. (Zhu 1986: 176)

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Reading is a way to maintain and preserve the heart-mind and nurture our virtuous nature: “If people always read books, then most likely, this heart-mind can be controlled and therefore constantly preserved. . . . The one moment when books are put down is the one moment when the virtuous nature is derelict. How can they be abandoned?” (Zhu 1986: 176). Reading the classical texts well is experiencing moral principles: What I want, through reading books, is that people experience moral principles within their selves. If they read books daily, then this heart-mind will not run into misdeeds. But if they are involved only in affairs and things, then this heart-mind can easily become submerged. Knowing that it is so, [they] experience moral principles within their selves through reading books, and they can be summoned back [to learning]. (Zhu 1986: 176)

Reading is the way to retrieve our “original heart-mind” (benxin 本心): “If the original heart-mind has long been submerged and moral principles not thoroughly nourished, then it is necessary to read books to plumb principle. In so doing without interruption, the heart-mind of material desires will naturally not triumph, and the moral principles of the original heart-mind will naturally be safe and secure” (Zhu 1986: 176). Zhu concludes, “Preservation of the heart-mind and reading of books must be taken as the same thing” (Zhu 1986: 177). In short and in sum, Zhu spares no efforts in telling us how we should read in the most careful, thorough, and exhaustive manner, so as to understand every part and detail of the text in question, even if we have to read and reread it a hundred times. There is the Way to read. He exhorts us to concentrate on the main arguments and then proceed to grasping the details, taking pains to unveil the coherence of the text by unraveling the meanings of the words, which may be layered and stratified. He urges us to read in the right order, first tackling, for instance, the Four Books before the other classics and histories, and he reminds us that commentaries must be consulted only after the original has been perused (See also Gardner 1990: 128–62; Levey 2000: 255). Then, moral principles can be obtained. As we have seen, Zhu rejects a mode of reading that is fixated on textual elements per se. Reading is self-­ cultivation via the investigation of things, whose ultimate goal is to comprehend the li and dao embodied in the classics. This ultimate, direct, and unmediated apprehension of principle is possible because the reader and the authors of the classics share the same heart-mind. The goal of reading is charismatic and oracular, revealing the authorial intents of the classical writers so as to discern li. The act of reading, more than a textual-philological preoccupation, is an experiential act of sensory embodiment. Reading is talking directly with the sages, face to face. This instinctual approach to reading, also likened to the natural act of eating, reflects Zhu’s ultimate concern with the apprehension of principle in an unmediated, autogenetic way. There is a direct passage from the reader to the principle embodied in the classical texts, if only the heart-mind is untrammeled and unburdened. In brief, Zhu’s hermeneutics is premised on a mystique of the afflatus of the charismatic reader, which bypasses discursive and intellectual lucubration so as to directly grasp the intentions of the sages and the quiddity of principle (Herman 2001: 112–20).

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5 Hermeneutics in Action: Philology at the Service of Philosophy This is not the place for any detailed examination of Zhu’s specific exegeses, for several of the essays in the present volume are tasked with the analysis of his commentaries. Nevertheless, it is useful, if not crucial, to at least illustrate how Zhu places his exegesis at the service of his philosophy. To lay bare the authorial intentions of the sages is to, after all, reveal the workings of principle (li), the Way (dao), and the transmission of the lineage of the Way (daotong 道統) (Lao 2017; Dai 2016). It is well known that Zhu Xi anthologized and elevated the Four Books— Daxue 大學 (the Great Learning), Lunyu 論語 (the Analects), Zhongyong 中庸 (the Doctrine of the Mean) and Mengzi 孟子 (Mencius), respectively in that specific order—to be a unified canon with putatively coherent philosophical messages, and his commentaries on these texts represent some of his signature contributions to Neo-Confucian thought. For Zhu, these texts are the repositories of the sages’ teachings and principles, the apprehension of which enables one to understand all other books and all other principles (Zhu 1986: 249; Cai 1996: 264–89; Dai 2016: 139–40). Zhu analogizes the Four Books to cooked rice, superior to the Six classics that are yet to be husked (Zhu 1986: 429). Although Zhu clearly acknowledges that the Six Classics originated with the ancient sages, they have been too much mediated by later accretions and interpretations, and they are therefore far removed from the original sources. He boldly proclaims: “[I]f [we] want to directly apprehend the original intents of the sages without mistake, [we] need not be concerned with the [Six] Classics. [We] must look squarely at them by focusing on the Analects and Mencius” (Zhu 1986: 2614). The core of the sages’ teachings is to be found in the Four Books. This explains Zhu’s painstaking and life-long compilation of the famous Sishu zhangju jizhu 四書章句集注 (Anthologized Annotations of the Verses and Sentences of the Four Books): “The reason that I compiled The Collected Commentaries is that I wanted people to think hard and thoroughly about the meanings of the texts. Upon knowing them, they can then savor the tastes (wanwei 玩味) and come to discern the sages’ ideas and intents” (Zhu 1986: 484). These very “ideas and intents” are nothing other than li and dao, and his commentaries shine the spotlight on them. For instance, in Lunyu jizhu 論語集注 (The Collected Commentaries on the Analects), even though Zhu cites the glosses of more commentators from the Han to the Song periods, he privileges those of the Cheng brothers and their epigones precisely because of the latter group’s insight into the metaphysical worldview embodied in the ancient text (Dai 2016: 152; Makeham 2004: 193–95). In his annotations of the Analects, Zhu often uses the word “li” to replace other words in the original text, such as explicating tian (heaven) as li. Idiosyncratically, Zhu defines tianming (mandate of heaven) as “the correct principle endowed by heaven” (Lao 2017: 2, 25–29; Chen 2007: 88). For Zhu Xi, the original intent of the authors of the Four Books is to convey the dao, the Way, which has a clear lineage and order of transmission, a daotong (Cai 1996: 2–3). In other words, the truths of the sages are not some atemporal, free-

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standing messages that come to readers as revelatory experiences. Rather, they have a history and they constitute a tradition. Zhu’s hermeneutics of the Four Books, while transporting readers directly back to antiquity in order to apprehend the minds of the sages, also situates them historically and culturally in the Confucian dao, first forged by the sages and successively transmitted, renewed, and realized by those who truly understand it. If the truths of the classics are, to begin with, timeless, their transmission through history has created a cultural order, such that the antique truths are located in a historical and cultural context. Unfortunately, as Zhu laments, the dao that is textually enshrined in the classics has been neglected and misunderstood with the growth of Buddhism, Daoism, and other non-Confucian ideas and teachings (Adler 2014: 37–75). Through classical hermeneutics, however, the history of the daotong can once again be delineated and the dao once again defined. In short, Zhu Xi’s religious hermeneutic quest to retrieve and apprehend the ultimate truths enfolds within the historicist framework of the lineage of the Way, the daotong. This interaction of the timeless and the time-bound in Zhu Xi’s classical learning addresses the very contemporary question of what a classic is. On one hand, a classic is an old text that speaks directly to us, and we may be moved, educated, refined, and transformed in the process. In that sense, a classic and its ideals are mythic, transcendent, and religious in nature, coming to us across space and time. On the other hand, the lineage and transmission of the Way, and Zhu’s conscious and deliberate self-situation in it, are socio-cultural and historical constructions (Cf. Coetzee 2001: 1–16). We may therefore say that the Four Books are classical in the sense that they transcend the temporal niche of their origination, transmitting and retaining their meaning and significance through the ages, such that they were still very much alive when Zhu appealed to them as the core of Confucian teachings. But the Four Books, as classics, are also historically constituted. Their centrality in the Confucian canon no doubt owes much to Zhu’s promotion, but it can also be attributed to the historical fact that the Four Books, before Zhu’s time, had never really suffered the fate of obscurity. The Analects, for instance, was regarded in the Han times as one of the so-called “Seven Classics” (Cai 2004: 14–21). Daxue and the Zhongyong are chapters in the Liji 禮記 (The Records of Rituals). Mencius, from the mid-Tang onward, especially as a result of HAN Yu’s effort to revive the Confucian dao, also began to draw much attention as an exemplary text in the Confucian canon (Cai 2004: 244–47). Moreover, it is noteworthy that Zhu’s propagation of the Four Books took place within the context of the daoxue (道學 the Learning of the Way) movement, in which a fellowship of like-minded literati, in the course of the Southern Song, shaped particular visions and values of Confucian learning (Tillman 1992: 2–9, 141). Consequently, to promote the Four Books is not simply to appeal to some mysterious essence and transcendent ideals; it is also to acknowledge the tradition and community in which the texts have been preserved. Zhu Xi’s Sishu zhangju jizhu (Anthologized Annotations of the Verses and Sentences of the Four Books) is both an exegetical work and historical compilation, in that he refers to and draws from the existing interpretive community of some 50 odd exegetes belonging to different historical periods, although understandably, the Cheng brothers are cited with the

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most frequency, as mentioned earlier (Cai 1996: 266). It should also be borne in mind that Zhu Xi’s faith in the moral power of the dao and his appeal to the civilization of the daotong are to a considerable extent a response to the political situation of his day. He lived at a critical historical juncture when northern China was under the Jurchen regime of the Jin dynasty (1115–1234) where Confucian culture, as Zhu saw it, was imperiled and embattled. For him, the classics were potent weapons against the marauding forces of barbaric culture. By holding on to the authentic classics, China safeguards its genuine culture. Their very classicality represents cultural authority. At odds with the moral dao is the barbarous heterodoxy of immoral teachings outside of the daotong. Hermeneutics is the constant act of renewing, restoring, and reaffirming the primacy and ultimacy of the classics, especially the Four Books in Zhu’s case, safeguarding their ideals and values in perilous political times (Cai 2004: 599–605; Wilson 1995: 38–46). Zhu Xi’s historical horizon, or his historical situatedness, in which his preunderstanding or prejudice inheres, to use Gadamer’s terms, is defined by his faith in the dao transmitted in the daotong. His exegetical work on the Four Books brings this culturo-historical vision to bear on his interpretation of the texts. Significantly enough, it was in the preface to his Zhongyong zhangju 中庸章句 (Verses and Sentences of the Doctrine of the Mean) that Zhu first uses the term, daotong. The authentic dao, the principle of all-under-heaven (tianxia zhi li 天下之理), began with Yao 堯, Shun 舜, and Yu 禹, and was subsequently transmitted through the acts and teachings of the sages. In his depiction of the transmission and lineage of the Way, Zhu Xi clearly pinpoints the organic relation between the dao (the truth) and words (the text): “Where our Way (wudao 吾道) resides does not lie outside the bounds of language and words (yanyu wenzi 言語文字)” (Zhu 1983: 14). In other words, truth is textually mediated and embodied, and when the text of the Zhongyong drops out of public consciousness, the dao dwindles and heterodox teachings arise. As Buddhism and Daoism prosper, great confusion obscures authentic truths. It is indeed a great fortune that the Zhongyong survives. Fortuitously, in the capable hand of the Cheng brothers, this text demonstrates both the truth of the Confucian dao and the falsity of Buddhism and Daoism (Zhu 1983: 14–16). Clearly, Zhu Xi’s hermeneutic work on the Zhongyong is devoted to renewing the lineage of the Way. The philosophical quiddity and moral quintessence of the daotong may be summed up by the Zhongyong’s notion of centrality (Zhong 中), which is in turn an encapsulation of the 16-character teaching found in the Shangshu (尚書 Classic of Documents): “The mind of humanity (renxin 人心) is prone to error. The Mind of the Way (daoxin 道心) is subtle. Remain discerning and single-­ minded: Keep steadfastly to centrality (zhong).” This is the core Confucian message of the centrality of the dao, transmitted by the sages from one heart-mind to another. This critically important message of the heart-mind (xin), according to Zhu, is clearly explained by Cheng Yi: Master Cheng says, “Not leaning to the sides is what is called zhong; not changing is what is called yong. Zhong is the right way of all-under-heaven; yong is the established principles of all-under heaven. This essay [that is, the Zhongyong] contains the central way of the heart-mind of the Confucian school. Zisi 子思, worried that it would become distorted with

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Here, Zhu reveals his coherent and systematic understanding of the truth conveyed by the classical text. From the dao with its daotong, through the notion of centrality, Zhu arrives at the one li, the ontological bedrock of his entire philosophy, whose manifestations are multifarious. His purposeful linkage of dao and li can clearly been seen in the following gloss. The Zhongyong states: “As regards the correct Way, we cannot diverge from it for even a moment. If it were possible to diverge from it, it would not be the correct Way. Because of this, the profound persons (junzi 君子) are so concerned when they do not see, and so apprehensive when they do not hear.” Zhu’s commentary goes as follows: The correct Way is the principle (li) to be followed in daily affairs, being entirely the virtue (de 德) of nature (xing 性) and embodied in the heart-mind (xin). There is nothing that is without [li] and there is not one moment in which li is not naturally so. Because of this, we cannot diverge even for one moment from li. If it is possible to diverge [from it], then how can it can said that it leads our nature? Therefore, the heart-mind of the profound person always preserves reverence (jing 敬) and awe (wei 畏). Even when one cannot see or hear, [li] cannot be neglected. This is the root of the preservation of heavenly principle, such that there is no divergence [from li] for even the short span of a moment. (Zhu 1983: 20–21)

Indeed, Zhu Xi’s own effective history, again to use Gadamer’s term, apart from the guiding culturo-historical vision of dao/daotong, consists in his fundamental philosophical conception of li (principle) as the principal ontological reality; and hence the necessity of qiongli 窮理 (plumbing principle) and gewu (格物 investigating things). Zhu’s hermeneutics regarding The Great Learning similarly aims at revealing the truth of principle (li) and its realization. Famously (or infamously), Zhu creates a “supplementary chapter of commentary” (buzhuan 補傳) in order to expound the ideas of “investigating things” and “extending knowledge to the utmost” (zhizhi 致 知). This created text is appended to the original chapter five which contains these words: “This is called ‘knowing the root’ (zhiben 知本). This is called ‘the completion of knowledge’ (zhi zhi zhi 知之致).” Following the interpretation of CHENG Yi, Zhu regards the first sentence as redundant, which should therefore be excised. The second sentence is significant, but it is the conclusion to some missing text, necessitating as a result the creation of a supplementary chapter to fill the textual gap (Gardner 1986: 36–37). In his Daxue zhangju 大學章句 (The Verses and Sentences of the Great Learning), Zhu cites Cheng Yi, who has explicitly claimed that this one classic is “Confucius’s bequeathed text,” (yishu 遺書) “the gateway to initial learning of acquiring virtue.” Zhu reiterates the fundamental fact that this text is the foundation of all learning. Systematically, when “the ancients sequenced learning, [they] in particular relied on preserving [the priority of] this text, followed by the Analects and Mencius. If scholars follow this in their learning, they will hardly go wrong” (Zhu 1983: 3). Zhu Xi takes the extraordinary step of adding words to the transmitted canon because he is committed to expounding the notions of “investigation of things” and “extending knowledge to the utmost” as center-

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pieces of his philosophy. Zhu’s reading of the Daxue in effect reinvents the text as the locus classicus of those valued twin-ideas. He explains in his supplementary chapter the central idea that “the extending of knowledge to the utmost lies in the investigation of things:” The intelligence of the human heart-mind is such that it is never without knowledge; all things under heaven possess principle. It is because principle is not plumbed that knowledge is not extended to the utmost. Therefore, in using the Daxue to initiate learning, scholars will definitely pursue all things under heaven by increasingly plumbing them in accordance with a prior principle, so that their ultimate [principle] can be reached. As our endeavor is exerted in a prolonged manner, complete and thorough understanding suddenly arises, so much so that the exterior and interior, and the refinement and coarseness of myriad things are apprehended, and the whole substance and great function of my heart-mind are fully comprehended. This is what is called having investigated things; this is what is called having extended knowledge to the utmost. (Zhu 1983: 6–7)

In Daxue, Zhu Xi finds logical coherence and linkage of his most important precepts, from “investigation of things,” through “plumbing principle” (qiongli), to “extending knowledge to the utmost.” Indeed, in the Daxue huowen 大學或問 (Queries on the Great Learning), Zhu argues that “the way of investigating things lies in conceiving principle with regard to every matter, so that things are investigated.” This “pointed goal” (tiaomu 條目) of the Daxue is the organized way of learning that the sages taught. “But since the Han and the Wei,” Zhu laments, “various Confucians have failed to mention it.” Even Han Yu, whom he praises for revealing anew the importance of Daxue, failed to examine the idea of “extending knowledge to the utmost and investigating things,” for he erroneously concentrated on Daxue’s teaching of “rectifying the heart-mind and making the will sincere” (zhengxin chengyi 正心誠意) (Zhu 1986: 421). In short, Zhu uses his Daxue exegesis, which includes textual reorganization and supplementation, to propound the ultimate truth of principle.

6 Conclusion: Hermeneutics as Religious Revivification of Universal Truths Zhu’s hermeneutics is underpinned by a religious conviction in the classics as textual encasements of an ideal way of life. They bear witness to li’s perennial syndication in culture, appearing as the dao and daotong. As an exegete, Zhu performs the charismatic act of shaping the classics into a unity of meanings, rendering them into texts with trans-historical significance. As far as he is concerned, he is not playing the historical game of bridging the gap between the ancient authors and the present readers by recreating a dead past; instead, he revivifies and relives the sages’ words in the present. Zhu’s hermeneutics resurrects the past’s authentic contemporaneity. But at the same time that he affirms the classics as repositories of truths, he concedes that their interpretation is a mutable and unsettling exercise. Even if hermeneutic ultimacy inspires his commentarial undertaking, Zhu seems never sure that

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he gets it right. He frets over the elaborate process of reading the classics, whose meanings seem ever tantalizingly elusive, and so he agonizes over these glosses of Zhongyong and Daxue: [My exegeses] on Daxue and Zhongyong are repeatedly revised, failing in the end to reach the point where revisions need no longer be made. Recently, [my work] on Daxue appears to have a few problems. [Its] meanings and principles are best explained in lectures. But once [they] are committed to paper and brush, [I] feel [I] have not even arrived at the most basic. Even if they are discussed in detail, there is no brilliant [insight]. Now, in order to probe the heart-felt messages of the sages, we can only look at them on paper. How can we see the very bottom? Once I think about this, I always close my books in dismay. (Quoted in Qian 1986: 1379)

Zhu here hints at the impotence of written words as tools to uncover the sages’ truths. Yet, one must revel in the texts and their zhangju 章句 (the verses and sentences): Whenever I study the text [of the Zhongyong], I rashly use my own ideas to divide it up into verses and sentences. But since, as Master Cheng claimed, it was that by which the central way of the Confucian school was transmitted, I wonder deep down if [its meaning] can be pursued through verses and sentences. But it is also known that one who studies the classics can only get through to their meanings by way of their words. Therefore, I dare to apply my own understanding to it [that is, the Zhongyong] as a way of studying and thinking. (Quoted in Qian 1986: 1379)

Interestingly, this brings to mind the lament of the eminent literary critic, Frank Kermode, about the thankless and ultimately disappointing, but yet inevitable, task of interpretation: Yet we are all concerned with the problem [of interpretation]. . . . Some suppose that it is right to inquire strictly into the question of what the text originally meant. Others wish to discover what it originally means, a more charismatic quest. Some seek to liberate texts from all historical constraint by a process of ‘deconstruction,’ others speak of foregoing the banal pleasure of continuity with the original sense for the sake of a joy more acute, if more dismaying. . . . Yet all practice divination, however intermittently, erroneously, dishonestly, or disappointedly; most of all, disappointedly. For whether one thinks that one’s purpose is to re-cognize the original meaning, or to fall headlong into a text that is a treacherous network rather than continuous and systematic sequence, one may be sure of one thing, and that is disappointment. (Kermode 1979: 126)

Interpretation is after all divination of sorts. Because it guarantees no certainty, it generates in the end disappointment. To be sure, one must regard Kermode’s hermeneutics, with its pronounced sense of uncertainty and ambiguity, as being basically at odds with Zhu’s optimism and confidence with the acts of reading and understanding. But the point to hammer home is that even a reader like Zhu Xi, armed with his charismatic faith in the revelatory power of the classics, was at times not free from hermeneutic disappointment, as he struggled mightily with the texts, and evidently, he was never quite satisfied with his commentaries. Reputedly, 3  days before his death, he was still making changes to his gloss on the chapter, “Making the Will Sincere,” of Daxue (Wang 1982: 226; Lin 2008: 347–82). Situating Zhu Xi’s hermeneutics against the backdrop of contemporary western philosophy of reading and understanding, we see that Zhu regards the classics as

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religious inspirations and their interpretation as a charismatic act, given his ultimate identification of the reader with the sagely author. To him, the classics are always located in the present, and he sees himself as their addressee who represents the community of readers (Wu 2004: 71–95). In our contemporary hermeneutic endeavors, because we realize we are not God or its prophet, we chafe at the epistemological difficulty of retrieving, defining, and narrating the meanings of received texts. A deconstructionist reader will even insist that any text is an unsigned document that is beholden to no one. By contrast, Zhu rejects the democracy of interpretation, insofar as the classics have intentionally recoverable meanings of lasting value. This hermeneutic stance and vision has a place in our present-day world. The dissimilitude between the human yearning for a beatific culture (peace, prosperity, beauty, moral integrity, spiritual uplift) and the meanness of reality (war, poverty, desolation, ethical decay, material indulgence) is the source of much of the contemporary discontent of civilization—hence the allure of socio-political utopias and religious theocracies. But recent history sadly informs us that neither has yielded demonstrable lasting success and tangible benefits; in fact, they often do more harm than good. Zhu Xi, through his hermeneutics, which doubles as his philosophy of understanding and culture, asks us to appeal to the classics. He shows us that by reading, understanding, and retrieving the truths of the classics, we can be autonomous and creative individuals while serving as dutiful members of a community anchored in tradition as defined by the classics. He tells us that while we diligently carry on with life on the human level, through the ancient texts, we may purposefully contemplate our organic relationship with the universe, coming to grips with its first principles: li (principle), dao (the Way), tian (heaven), qi (psycho-physical force), and wu (things). As Frank Kermode says, the “desires of the interpreters are good because without them the world and the text are tacitly declared to be impossible; perhaps they are, but we must live as if the case were otherwise” (Kermode 1979: 126). Gadamer, in a different way, asserts that “the hermeneutic consciousness” recognizes that “what man needs is not just the persistent posing of ultimate questions, but the sense of what is feasible, what is possible, what is correct, here and now” (Gadamer 1994: xxxviii). In other words, hermeneutics, by providing this very sense of the here and now, makes the present world possible. Zhu, through his hermeneutics, does just that.

References Adler, Joseph A. 2014. Reconstructing the Confucian Dao: Zhu Xi’s Appropriation of Zhou Dunyi. Albany: State University of New York Press. (A meticulously researched study of Zhu Xi’s thoughts in terms of its relations to Zhou Dunyi’s teachings.) Cai, Fanglu 蔡方鹿. 1996. A History of the Development of the Chinese Thought on the Lineage of the Way 中華道統思想發展史. Taipei 臺北: Zhonghua daotong chubanshe 中華道統出版社. (A thorough exploration of Zhu Xi’s construction of a lineage of the Confucian Way.)

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——— 蔡方鹿. 2004. Zhu Xi’s Classical Learning and the Study of the Classics in China 朱熹經 學與中國經學. Beijing 北京: Renmin chubanshe 人民出版社. (A wide-ranging examination of Zhu Xi’s exegetical commentaries on the classics.) Chen, Xunwu. 2000. “A Hermeneutical Reading of Confucianism.” Journal of Chinese Philosophy 27.1: 101–115. (A comparative contemplation on the nature of interpretation in Confucian terms.) Chen, Liangwu 陳良武. 2007. “The Way of the Zhongyong and Classical Exegesis: A Brief Examination of Zhu Xi’s Hermeneutic Thoughts Regarding Classical Exegesis.” 中庸之道 與經典詮釋——朱熹經典詮釋思想述略. Journal of Daqing Normal University 大慶師範 學院學報 27.6 (December 2007): 86–89. (A focused look at Zhu Xi’s interpretation of the Zhongyong in terms of his general exegetical stances.) Cheng, Chung-ying. 2003. “Inquiring into the Primary Model: Yijing and the Onto-hermeneutical Tradition.” Journal of Chinese Philosophy 30: 289–312. (A reinterpretation of classical Confucian reading of the classics based on the original insights offered by the Yijing.) Coetzee, J.  M. 2001. “What Is a Classic?” In Stranger Shores. New  York: Viking Penguin. (A general pondering of the nature of the sense of the classical.) Dai, Lianbian. 2016. “From Philology to Philosophy: Zhu Xi as Reader-Annotator.” In Anthony Grafton and Glenn W.  Most, eds., Canonical Texts and Scholarly Practices: A Global Comparative Approach, 136–163. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. (A technical analysis of the hermeneutic strategies and methods employed by Zhu Xi in his classical commentaries.) Gadamer, Hans-Georg. 1976. Philosophical Hermeneutics, translated by David Linge. Berkeley: University of California Press. (Anthology of essays by Gadamer.) ———. 1994. Truth and Method, translated by Joel Weinsheimer and Donald Marshall. New York: Continuum. (Classic work by Gadamer that sums up his philosophy of interpretation.) ———. 2001. Reason in the Age of Science, translated by Frederick Lawrence. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press. (Anthology of essays by Gadamer, focusing on the importance of extra-scientific rationality.) Gardner, Daniel K. 1983. “Chu Hsi’s Reading of the Ta-hsueh: A Neo-Confucian’s Quest for Truth.” Journal of Chinese Philosophy 10.3: 183–204. ———. 1986. Chu Hsi and the Ta-hsueh. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Asia Center. (A thorough study of Zhu Xi’s commentarial work on the Daxue.) ———. 1990. Learning to Be a Sage. Berkeley: University of California Press. (Selective translations, with commentaries, of passages from the Zhuzi yu lei.) ———. 1991. “Modes of Thinking and Modes of Discourse in the Sung: Some Thoughts on the Yü-lu (‘Recorded Conversations’) Texts.” Journal of Asian Studies 50.3: 574–603. (An interpretation of the genre of yulu as an exemplification of the readerly ability to penetrate the minds of the sagely authors of the classics.) ———. 1998. “Confucian Commentary and Chinese Intellectual History.” Journal of Asian Studies 57.2: 397–422. (A study of the nature of the Confucian classical commentaries.) Gu, Ming Dong. 2005. Chinese Theories of Reading and Writing: A Route to Hermeneutics and Open Poetics. Albany: State University of New York Press. (A broad-based conceptualization of the methods of interpretation, with a focus on literary criticism.) Hansen, Chad. 1995. “Qing (Emotions) in Pre-Buddhist Chinese Thought.” In Joel Marks and Roger T.  Ames, eds., Emotions in Asian Thought: A Dialogue in Comparative Philosophy. Albany: State University of New York Press. Herman, Jonathan R. 2001. “Human Heart, Heavenly Heart: Mystical Dimensions of Chu Hsi’s Neo-Confucianism.” Journal of the American Academy of Religion 69.1: 103–128. (A study of Zhu Xi’s hermeneutics from a religious point of view, with special reference to his sense of mystique, understood as the oneness of the knower and the known.) Karlgren, Bernhard. 1964. Grammata Serica Recensa. Stockholm: Museum of Far Eastern Antiquities.

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Kasulis, Thomas. 1992. “Philosophy as Metapraxis.” In Discourse and Practice, edited by Frank Reynolds and David Tracy. Albany: State University of New York Press. Kermode, Frank. 1979. The Genesis of Secrecy: On the Interpretation of Narrative. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. (A classic study on biblical hermeneutics in terms of literary criticism.) Lao, Yueqiang 勞悅強. 2017. “To Verify the Inner with the Outer: Qi Diaokai and Master Zhu’s Moral hermeneutics.” 以表證里——漆雕開與朱子的道德詮釋學. The Journal of Chinese Philosophy and Culture 中國哲學與文化 14 (September 2017): 1–29. (A study showing how Zhu Xi invests his moral-ethical ideas in his commentary on a chapter of the Analects.) Lee, Kwai Sang. 2015. “Inborn Knowledge (Shengzhi) and Expressions of Modesty (Qianci) on Zhu Xi’s Sacred Image of Confucius and His Hermeneutical Strategies.” Monumenta Serica. Journal of Oriental Studies 63.1: 79–108. (An examination of Zhu Xi’s notion of sagehood as innate knowledge of the truths encased in the classics.) Levey, Matthew Arnold. 2000. “Chu Hsi Reading the Classics: Reading to Taste the Tao—‘This Is a Pipe,’ After All.” In Ching-I Tu, ed., Classics and Interpretations: The Hermeneutic Traditions in Chinese Culture. New York: Routledge. (An interpretation of Zhu Xi’s hermeneutics with comparisons to Foucault’s theory.) Lin, Weijie 林維杰. 2008. Zhu Xi and Classical Exegesis 朱熹與經典詮釋. Taipei 臺北: Taida chuban zhongxin 臺大出版中心. (A general and comprehensive study of Zhu Xi’s classical commentaries, with some reference to western hermeneutic theories.) Liu, Shu-hsien. 2001. “Philosophical Analysis and Hermeneutics: Reflections on Methodology via an Examination of the Evolution of My Understanding of Chinese Philosophy.” In Bo Mou, ed., Two Roads to Wisdom?: Chinese and Analytic Philosophical Traditions. Chicago: Open Court. (A study of the ways in which philosophical ruminations are ensconced in commentarial endeavors.) Makeham, John. 2004. Transmitters and Creators: Chinese Commentators and Commentaries on the Analects. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Asia Center. (A comprehensive look at the commentaries on the Analects in traditional China, with a special focus on the Song period.) Mazlish, Bruce. 1998. The Uncertain Sciences. New Haven: Yale University Press. Ng, On-cho. 2003. “Chinese Philosophy, Hermeneutics, and Onto-Hermeneutics.” Journal of Chinese Philosophy 30.3 & 4: 373–85. (A general contemplation on the relations between Western hermeneutic theories and Cheng Chung-ying’s onto-hermeneutic philosophy.) Qian, Mu 錢穆. 1986. New Intellectual Record of Master Zhu 朱子新學案. Chengdu 成都: Bashu shushe 巴蜀書社. Ricoeur, Paul. 1981. Hermeneutics and the Human Sciences: Essays on Language, Action, and Interpretation, edited and translated by John B. Thompson. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Taylor, Rodney. 1990. The Religious Dimensions of Confucianism. Albany: State University of New York Press. (An anthology of the author’s essays that focus on Confucian religiosity.) Tillman, Hoyt C. 1992. Confucian Discourse and Chu Hsi’s Ascendancy. Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press. (A study of the development of Zhu Xi’s teachings and influences by locating it in the wider intellectual and political contexts.) Wachterhauser, Brice. 1994. “Introduction.” In Brice R.  Wachterhauser, ed., Hermeneutics and Truth. Evanston: Northwestern University Press. Wang, Maohong 王懋竑. 1982. A Biographical Annals of Master Zhu 朱子年譜. Taipei 臺北: Shangwu yinshuguan 商務印書館. Weinsheimer, Joel. 1985. Gadamer’s Hermeneutics: A Reading of Truth and Method. New Haven: Yale University Press. Wilson, Thomas A. 1995. Genealogy of the Way: The Construction and Uses of the Confucian Tradition in Late Imperial China. Stanford: Stanford University Press. Wu, Jianliang 吳展良. 2004. “The Sages’ Writings and the Universality of Heavenly Principle: On the Premise and Assumptions of Zhu Xi’s Classical Exegesis 聖人之書與天理的普遍性:論

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朱子的經典詮釋之前提假設.” Historical Inquiry 臺大歷史學報 33: 71–95. (An interpretation of the ontological basis of Zhu Xi’s commentarial endeavors.) Yü, Ying-shih. 2016. “Clio’s New Cultural Turn and the Rediscovery of Tradition in Asia.” In Chinese History and Culture, vol. 2: Seventeenth Century Through Twentieth Century. New  York: Columbia University Press. (The essay contains arguments about the nature of Confucian classical commentaries.) Zhu, Xi 朱熹. 1970. Classified Sayings of Master Zhu 朱子語類. Taipei 臺北: Zhengzhong shuju 正中書局. ——— 朱熹. 1983. Anthologized Annotations of the Verses and Sentences of the Four Books 四書 章句集注. Beijing 北京: Zhonghua shuju 中華書局. ——— 朱熹. 1986. Classified Sayings of Master Zhu 朱子語類. Beijing 北京: Zhonghua shuju 中華書局. ——— 朱熹. 2000. An Anthology of Master Zhu’s Writings 朱子文集. Taipei 臺北: Defu wenjiao jijinhui 德富文教基金會. ——— 朱熹. 2010. Answering Queries About the Four Books 四書或問. In Complete Works of Master Zhu 朱子全書. Shanghai 上海: Shanghai guji chubanshe 上海古籍出版社. On-cho Ng is a professor of history, Asian studies and philosophy, and head of the Asian Studies Department at Penn State University. He is also an honorary professor at the Education University of Hong Kong. Primarily a specialist in late imperial Chinese intellectual history, he has numerous publications on a wide variety of subjects such as Confucian hermeneutics, religiosity, ethics, and historiography.  

Chapter 4

Zhu Xi’s Four Books: The Locus Classicus of a New Confucian Philosophy Tze-ki Hon

1 Introduction It is commonly known that Zhu Xi adopted a “genealogy of the Way” (daotong 道 統) that began with Yao and Shun in ancient antiquity, continued through King Wen, Duke of Zhou, Confucius and Mencius of the pre-imperial period, and finally reached Cheng Hao and Cheng Yi of the Northern Song. A distinctive characteristic of this “genealogy of the Way” was the thousand-year gap between Mencius and the two Cheng brothers, excluding everybody in the Qin–Han (220 BCE −220 CE) and the Sui–Tang (581–907) periods from being transmitters of Confucian learning.1 It is also commonly known that Zhu Xi supported this “genealogy of the Way” with the Four Books: The Great Learning, the Analects, the Mencius, and the Doctrine of the Mean. Picking these texts from a variety of sources—the Analects and the Mencius from the Thirteen Classics (shisanjing 十三經), and the “Great Learning” and the “Doctrine of the Mean” from the Book of Rites—Zhu Xi created the locus classicus of what he considered as the true Confucian learning. From 1313 to 1905, the Four Books were recognized by the imperial authority as Confucian classics and tested in the civil service examinations.2

1  See Adler 2014: 15–76; Chan 1973; 1995: 105–21, 1988: 1–35; Makeham 2003: 171–78; Qian 1971, vol.1: 1–25; Yu 2013, vol.1: 32–66. 2  See Bethrong 2000; Cai 2000: 144–56; Chan 1988: 1–35; 1989; Henderson 2000; Lin 2008: 138–70; Gardner 1986: 5–16, 1990: 57–81; Makeham 2003: 178–82; Qian 1971, vol.4: 180–81; 1977: 152–54; Tillman 1992: 215–16; Zhou 2012: 96–107.

T.-k. Hon (*) Department of Chinese and History, City University of Hong Kong, Hong Kong, People’s Republic of China e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2020 K.-c. Ng, Y. Huang (eds.), Dao Companion to ZHU Xi’s Philosophy, Dao Companions to Chinese Philosophy 13, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-29175-4_4

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What has not been fully examined, however, is why Zhu Xi selected these four texts to present his “genealogy of the Way” and support his version of Confucian learning. Given that the four texts were drawn from disparate sources, Zhu Xi must have considered their strengths and weaknesses compared to other alternatives, such as the “Xici 繫辭” (Attached Verbalizations) of the Book of Changes or the “Liyun 禮運” chapter of the Book of Rites. Given that the four texts differed substantially in length, style, structure, and content, he must have contemplated the difficulty in combining them to form one cohesive textual body. In fact, evidence shows that Zhu was fully aware of the disparity of the four texts. In Conversations with Master Zhu, Thematically Arranged (Zhuzi yulei 朱子語類), we find Zhu Xi repeatedly commented on their differences. On several occasions, he told his perplexed students to read the Four Books in a special sequence: reading the Great Learning first to become familiar with the purpose of Confucian learning, and then reading the Analects and the Mencius to gain a sense of the broad scope of moral cultivation, and finally reading the Doctrine of the Mean to understand the metaphysical roots of human behavior (Zhu 1986: 249–50). Denoted in this sequence were the roles that Zhu Xi assigned to these four texts. More importantly, the sequence transformed them into what Daniel Gardner calls “a perfectly cohesive unit, a harmonious whole in which one part had little or no meaning without the other three” (Gardner 1986: 5). As a cohesive unit, the Four Books redefined the meaning of moral cultivation. Rather than modifying one’s behavior to become socially respectable and politically powerful, the Four Books presented moral cultivation as an attempt to become part of the universe’s renewal. This “moral metaphysics” (a term coined by Mou Zongsan) not only imbued the quotidian life with metaphysical significance, but also ushered in a new era of Confucian philosophy that put premium on self-cultivation of the individual.3 In this chapter, we will discuss how Zhu Xi deployed the Four Books to explain a Confucian moral metaphysics. To fully gauge the significance of this new Confucian philosophy, we will proceed in two steps. First, we will find out why Zhu Xi felt the need to compile and annotate the Four Books. An important thing to notice is that contrary to some scholars’ suggestion, Zhu never planned to replace the Five Classics—Book of Changes, Book of Documents, Book of Poetry, Book of Rites, and the Spring and Autumn Annals—with the Four Books. Instead, he gave himself the task of consolidating the Five Classics into a much shorter text to focus attention on self-cultivation as a quest for moral perfection. For him, the Four Books reiterated the same Confucian learning in the Five Classics; but they differed from them in tone, intensity, and vigor that would meet the challenge of Buddhism and Daoism. Second, we will go through the Four Books in the sequence prescribed by Zhu Xi. We will pay special attention to Zhu’s two methods of connecting the four texts: (1) Adding prefaces (xu 序 or xushuo 序說) to highlight the common themes among  For a discussion of “moral metaphysics” (daode de xingshangxue 道德的形上學), see Mou 1968, vol. 1: 1–10; see also Tu 1985: 131–48. 3

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the texts; and (2) aggressively modifying the tenor and texture of the four texts by either dividing them into “verses and sections” (zhangju 章句) or providing ­“collected annotations” (jizhu 集注) to support his interpretation. As we will find out, Zhu Xi used the “verse and section” method to structure the textual body of the Great Learning and the Doctrine of the Mean, turning these two short essays into sustained meditations on the metaphysical underpinnings of moral cultivation. He used the “collected annotations” method to interpret the Analects and the Mencius, transforming these longer but seemingly unfocused texts into thoughtful explorations on human innate goodness, the methods of self-cultivation, and the possibility of spiritual transcendence in everyday life.

2 A Gateway to the Five Classics As Tu Wei-ming has pointed out, the Five Classics conveyed five interrelated visions: poetic, political, social, historical, and metaphysical. Captured in the Book of Poetry, the poetic vision “speaks to the commonality of human feelings and to the mutuality of human concerns without resorting to the act of argumentation” (Tu 1993: 5). Elucidated in the Book of Documents, the political version highlights “the inseparability of morality and politics” and “the correlation between the self-­ cultivation of the ruler and the governability of the people” (Tu 1993: 5–6). Explained in the Book of Rites, the social vision promotes the founding of a fiduciary community that unites “like-minded people, motivated by a sense of participation and bound by a sense of duty” (Tu 1993: 6). Encapsulated in the Spring and Autumn Annals, the historical vision offers “wise counsel about the future as well as the present, which is offered as a communal verdict written by an informed observer and not as a private opinion” (Tu 1993: 7). Revealed in the Book of Changes, the metaphysical vision is grounded in “the idea of forming a trinity with heaven and earth and taking part in the transformative process of the cosmos through personal knowledge and self-cultivation” (Tu 1993: 8). Together these five visions encapsulated the ambitions of the ruling elite (Nylan 2001: 31–41). The ruling elite considered themselves forming “a trinity with heaven and earth” by ordering the world. They saw themselves as founders and administers of “a fiduciary community” guided by a common pool of human feelings, a shared collective memory, and a specific set of rituals. They admired outstanding political figures, such as King Wen and Duke of Zhou, who pacified the realms and brought order to the empire. During the Western Han, as the imperial bureaucracy expanded exponentially to meet the demands of an expanding empire, the ruling elite’s mission of “fathoming the universe and ordering the world” reached a new height. Under the auspices of forming “a trinity between heaven, earth, and humankind” (sancai 三才), grand plans were drawn up to combine the ruling of the empire with the governing of society and the ordering of one’s family and kin (Loewe 1994: 85–120; Qian 1971: 180).

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A grandiose scheme of governance notwithstanding, the socio-political vision of the Five Classics said little about the individuals, especially their anxiety, ­frustration, and vulnerability in coping with the ups and downs, the push and pull, of the quotidian life. In times of war and chaos especially, the socio-political vision of the Five Classics was rendered irrelevant when ordinary people—who in normal times were caring parents and responsible members of society—struggled to protect themselves, their families, and their neighborhood.4 For this reason, beginning in the Tang, there were continuous calls for restructuring the Confucian priorities, as Daoism and Buddhism rapidly gained popularity and influence over the educated people. It was this dire need for reshaping and reviving Confucianism that pushed Han Yu 韓愈 (768–834)—a precursor to Neo-Confucianism—to create a “genealogy of the Way” that linked Yao and Shun with Confucius and Mencius (Han 1986). In Han Yu’s “genealogy of the Way,” Confucius and Mencius were the new model of success. The elevation of Confucius and Mencius—two thinkers who failed to land a job in government—signalized a shifting of directions in Confucianism from emphasizing the responsibility to govern the empire to focusing on the need for controlling one’s behavior and one’s mind. In Confucian terminology, this shift put the emphasis on cultivating “the inner sage” (nei sheng 內聖) rather than developing the “outer king” (wai wang 外王) (Qian 1971 vol.1: 13–35). In addition, for Han Yu and Zhu Xi, the genealogy of the Way was broken after Mencius, implying that no scholar in the Qin–Han and the Sui–Tang periods could be considered a genuine Confucian. Even the accomplished Han scholar, Dong Zhongshu 董仲舒 (179–104 BCE), who theorized the trinity of heaven, earth and humankind, was not worth being called a Confucian. And yet, behind this seemingly pessimistic view lay an optimism that a revival would appear when the right person came along. For Zhu Xi, the right persons did come along. They were the Northern Song Masters—Zhou Dunyi 周敦頤 (1017–1073), Cheng Hao 程顥 (1032–1085), Cheng Yi 程頤 (1033–1107), and Zhang Zai 張載 (1020–1077)—whose writings Zhu collected in Reflections on Things at Hand (Jinsi lu 近思錄). In Conversations with Master Zhu, Thematically Arranged, we find a candid comment from Zhu Xi about classical learning. While the Four Books are a gateway to the Six Classics, Reflections on Things at Hand is a gateway to the Four Books. (Zhu 1986: 2629)5

This comment is important because it shows that in Zhu’s mind, the Five Classics, the Four Books, and Reflections on Things at Hand were interconnected and mutually reinforcing. More significantly, just as the writings of the four Northern Song

 During the Three Kingdom period (220–280), the precocious philosopher Wang Bi (226–249) was a fierce critic of the grandiose socio-political vision of the Five Classics. In his commentary to the Yijing (Book of Changes), he argued that at war or in crisis, kinsmen and friends would only look after their own interests. Instead, strangers would help one other when facing a common problem. For the details of Wang Bi’s argument, see Hon 2003. 5  Unless mentioned otherwise, the translations in this chapter are mine. 4

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masters were helpful to understand the moral metaphysics of the Four Books, so too were the Four Books helpful to understand the true meaning of Confucianism in the Five Classics. In other words, for Zhu Xi, the Four Books did not replace the Five Classics; rather, they embellished and enriched what had already been said in them, particularly the human mission to fathom the universe and order the world. In Conversations with Master Zhu, Thematically Arranged, we find Zhu Xi occasionally referred to the Four Books as a better set of texts to understand the true nature of Confucianism. For instance, he once commented that one spends less efforts and gains more from reading the Analects and the Mencius, and conversely one spends more efforts and gains less from reading the Five Classics (Zhu 1986: 428). On another occasion, he compared the Four Books to cooked rice to underscore their accessibility and translucency, and he described the Five Classics as cereal crops that were yet to be refined to make food (Zhu 1986: 429). These sayings have led some scholars to conclude that Zhu Xi must have privileged the Four Books over the Five Classics because they were direct records of Confucius’ and Mencius’ sayings, rather than second-handed summaries of what the two sages might have said (Cai 2000: 144–46; Chan 1988: 19–23; Gardner 1990: 78–79). Nevertheless, Zhu Xi did not make the claim that the Five Classics were useless. On the contrary, in a passage in Reflections on Things at Hand, Zhu Xi freely mixed the Four Books with the Five Classics as if they were interchangeable. He said, In reading, one must follow a sequence. The reader should start with the Great Learning to familiarize with the scope and structure of learning. And then, the reader moves on to read the Analects, the Mencius, the Book of Poetry, and the Book of Documents to gain knowledge of the propriety and principle of the infinite multiplicity of the material world, and to reach the ineffable oneness of the universe. After reaching the ineffable oneness of the universe, the reader goes a step further to read the Doctrine of the Mean to appreciate the awe-inspiring transformation of the universe. And then, the reader moves further to read the Book of Changes to have a clear understanding of the principle [of the myriad things] and a firm grasp of the propriety [of human affairs]. With a knowledge of the principle of transformation, the reader finally understands the mission of the sages. And then, the reader reads the Spring and Autumn Annals, and applies its lessons to interpret the past and to separate the right from wrong. (Zhu 1996: 89)

This passage shows that Zhu Xi viewed the Five Classics and the Four Books as part of a broad Confucian curriculum for learning to be a sage. To become a sage, he suggested, one must start with the mundane, the quotidian, the ordinary, and gradually deepen one’s understanding by finding out the metaphysical and transcendental potentials in the humdrums of everyday life. In practice, Zhu Xi recommended readers to read the Confucian classics from three interconnected perspectives. First, readers learned about the infinite multiplicity of the phenomenon world by reading the Great Learning, the Analects, the Mencius, the Book of Poetry, and the Book of Documents. Second, readers consulted the Doctrine of the Mean and the Book of Changes to appreciate the awe-inspiring transformation of the universe. Third, readers perused the Spring and Autumn Annals to analyze the phenomenal world from the newly acquired metaphysical perspective. In the quoted passage, Zhu Xi did not reveal the purpose of these three interconnected perspectives. But clearly the three perspectives help readers develop a mode

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of thinking that connects the phenomenal and the metaphysical worlds. More importantly, they train readers to adopt a holistic perspective toward the infinite multiplicity of the phenomenal world, viewing uncertainty and serendipity as part of the awe-inspiring transformation of the universe. And in these two areas—a new mode of thinking and a new attitude of life—the Four Books offered a shorter and more concise exposition, although much of the information and historical references were drawn from the Five Classics.6

3 Matching Intellectual Lineage with the Four Books As suggested earlier, the Four Books were derived from an array of sources. Thus, Zhu Xi’s biggest challenge in bringing them together was building bridges to connect them. And one of Zhu Xi’s solutions was adding prefaces to explain their significance and their connections. In the preface to the Great Learning, Zhu focused on the meaning of “great learning” (daxue 大學). He defined the “great learning” as a pedagogical program to educate adults older than 15 years old, regardless whether they were members of the ruling elite or the gifted ones selected from “ordinary people” (fanmin 凡民) (Zhu 1983: 1). This definition of the “great learning” was equivalent to a plea for democratizing education, making learning available to different sectors of society. Anticipating a theme that would appear in the other three prefaces, Zhu credited Confucius for inventing the “great learning” and praised Zengzi 曾子 (Confucius’ student) for putting Confucius’ ideas on paper. Although an important document for understanding Confucius’ vision of education, Zhu lamented that scholars stopped reading the Great Learning after the death of Mencius. Only a thousand years later did the two Cheng brothers rediscover it, giving it the deserved honor in the Confucian canon (Zhu 1983: 2). Whereas in the preface to the Great Learning Zhu mentioned in passing an intellectual lineage that stretched from Confucius to Zengzi and Mencius, he provided more substance to this lineage in his preface to the Analects. Focusing on the life story of Confucius, Zhu added a new member to the intellectual lineage: Zisi 子思, Confucius’ grandson, who studied with Zengzi (Zhu 1983: 42–43). Now the lineage included four characters: (1) Confucius, who invented the “great learning” and was a key figure in the Analects; (2) Zengzi, who wrote the Great Learning; (3) Zisi, who studied with Zengzi; and (4) Mencius, who was a key figure in the Mencius, and whose death signaled a long rupture in the transmission of Confucian learning. This fourfold transmission of Confucian learning reappeared in the prefaces to the Mencius and the Doctrine of the Mean, steadily forming a parallel between the  The Four Books contain large numbers of quotations from the Five Classics, especially the Book of Poetry and the Book of Documents. Thus, a reader is unable to fully follow the arguments in the Four Books without a solid knowledge of the Five Classics. In fact, one of Zhu Xi’s tasks in annotating the Four Books was to clarify the meanings of the quotations from the Five Classics. 6

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intellectual lineage and the making of the Four Books (Zhu 1983: 14, 198). The parallel became even clearer in the preface to the Doctrine of the Mean where Zhu Xi identified Zisi as the author of the text. At this point, each transmitter of Confucian learning was said to have been responsible for writing or compiling one text. First, Confucius provided sayings to the Analects, and in these sayings he explained the “great learning.” Second, Zengzi succinctly summarized Confucius’ ideas in the Great Learning. Third, Zisi wrote the Doctrine of the Mean to reiterate the essence of Confucian learning. Fourth, Mencius provided lengthy discussions on politics and human nature in the Mencius. With this perfect match between the intellectual lineage and the making of the Four Books, Zhu Xi made the claim that the Four Books were collectively a repository of the untapped wisdom of the early Confucian sages. This untapped wisdom would inform the Northern Song masters and Zhu himself to revive the Confucian moral metaphysics a thousand years later (Zhu 1983: 14–15). However, the intellectual lineage matches the Four Books only in authorship but not in chronology. If Zhu Xi were to strictly follow the chronology, he would have asked readers to read the Analects first, followed by the Great Learning, the Doctrine of the Mean and the Mencius. Instead, he asked readers to read the Four Books thematically, starting with Zengzi’s Great Learning, followed by Confucius’ Analects, Mencius’ Mencius, and Zisi’s Doctrine of the Mean. For him, theme was more important than chronology, as he explained in his preface to the Doctrine of the Mean. What was the reason for the Doctrine of the Mean to be written? [The answer is:] Master Zisi wrote it because he was worried about the loss of the learning of the Way. Beginning in ancient antiquity, the sages had been ruling the realms by following the patterns in heavens, and they had passed on the genealogy of Confucian learning from generation to generation. In ancient texts, we find a vestige of this genealogy in the statement “Hold Fast to the Mean.” This was what Yao gave to Shun. Later on, Shun passed it on to Yu and added more sentences: “The human mind is precious; the mind of Dao is barely perceptible. Be discerning and single-minded.” Although Yao’s statement was accurate and complete, Shun found it necessary to add three sentences to elaborate on Yao’s message. The combined sayings of Yao and Shun set in motion the transmission of the Way. (Zhu 1983: 14)

For Zhu Xi, despite Zisi being the third player in the fourfold transmission, he was most important in preserving the heart-to-heart transmission of Confucian learning. His significance lay in his decision to focus on the four brief but profound sentences of Yao and Shun: “The human mind is precious; the mind of the Dao is barely perceptible. Be discerning and single-minded. Hold Fast to the Mean.” To Zhu Xi, these four sentences captured the essence of the Confucian moral-metaphysics. Like a mantra, they focused attention on the battle of the mind between the pure and perceptive “mind of the Dao” (daoxin 道心) and the perturbed and perverse “human mind” (renxin 人心). Like a cautionary tale, they gave hope to the worried learners without losing sight to the immense challenge of overcoming missteps and failure, the pending danger of moral morass, and the catastrophic consequence of losing control of one’s bursting desires. Like a proverb, they promised success if one found the means to tame the searching mind and to counter the distractions in life. Above

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all, like a revelation story, they gave moral struggles a spiritual depth, turning them into battle grounds between following the dictates of the flesh, or elevating oneself to form a “trinity with heaven and earth” as the Five Classics lauded. Because of his efforts to preserve the four lines of Yao and Shun, Zhu Xi regarded Zisi as the most important transmitter of Confucianism. Zhu bestowed such a high honor on Zisi because in the Doctrine of the Mean, he found a succinct summary of the Confucian moral metaphysics where the phenomenal and the metaphysical worlds are deemed inseparable, and all moral decisions are perceived as battles between “the human mind” and “the mind of the Dao.” As such, Zhu asked readers to read the Doctrine of the Mean last. He feared that readers would not be able to fully comprehend the subtlety of moral metaphysics, if they did not first acquire a new mode of thinking to view the phenomenal and the metaphysical worlds as one entity (Zhu 1986: 1479).

4 The Verses and Sections in the Great Learning In many ways, it was Zhu Xi’s fear of readers failing to grasp the subtlety of moral metaphysics that drove him to divide the Great Learning into verses and sections. In its original form as a chapter in the Book of Rites, the Great Learning was one piece without breaks (Book of Rites 2000: [60] 1859–82). It opened with the arousing statement declaring the “three parameters” (san gangling 三綱領) of moral cultivation (manifesting the clear moral character, refreshing the people, and abiding in the highest good), and then continues non-stop explaining the “eight steps” (ba tiaomu 八條目) in learning: the investigation of things, extension of knowledge, sincerity of the will, rectification of the mind, cultivation of personal life, regulation of the family, ordering the governing, and bringing of peace to the realms. While readers of the original chapter would have no problem spotting the “three parameters” and the “eight steps,” without assistance they would not have been able to fully appreciate the structural beauty of the text and the deep meaning of “great learning.” For Zhu Xi, the Great Learning was magnificent not only because it clearly defined the goal of moral cultivation, but also because it systematically spelled out the steps of moral learning. The key term here is “systematic” because Zhu Xi saw an expanding structure—not unlike the spreading concentric cycles—that bound the Great Learning from the beginning to end. To him, there was no better way to reveal this structural beauty except dividing the text into verses and sections, highlighting both a progression in reaching the goal of moral cultivation and a continuous expansion in the scope of moral learning. According to Zhu Xi, the Great Learning should be divided into two sections. The first section, consisting of the opening verse, announces the three parameters and the eight steps of moral cultivation. The second section, consisting of ten verses, provides details to the three parameters (verses 1–4) and the eight steps (verses 4–10). In general, in the second section, one verse is devoted to one topic. Hence, the first four verses are about the “three parameters”: verse 1 discusses the manifes-

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tation of one’s clear mind; verse 2 explains how to refresh the people, verse 3 ­elaborates on the abiding in the highest good, and verse 4 reiterates the three parameters by emphasizing the need for a step-by-step expansion in moral cultivation. But from verses 5 to 10, there is a slight change. Of the six verses, only verse 6 covers one of the “eight steps” (the sincerity of the will), the rest covers two steps. Hence, verse 5 discusses the relationship between the investigation of things and the extension of knowledge; verse 7 examines the relationship between the ratification of the mind and the cultivation of personal life; verse 8 explains the relationship between the cultivation of personal life and the regulation of the family; verse 9 explores the relationship between the regulation of the family and the ordering of the government; verse 10 contemplates the relationship between the ordering the government and bringing peace to the realms. The verse arrangement in section two indicates that Zhu Xi saw the “eight steps” as fluid and dynamic, multidimensional and interconnected. Of the “eight steps,” Zhu Xi paid special attention to the investigation of things and the perfection of knowledge, on both of which he composed a “supplemented verse” (buzhang 補章) based on, he claimed, what he had learned from the two Cheng brothers. While it is questionable whether this “supplemented verse” is necessary and the verse later became a bone of contention between the Neo-Confucians of the Cheng–Zhu school and the Lu–Wang school (Cheng 2000), our concern here is how this “supplemented verse” works in Zhu Xi’s grand plan of clarifying what he considers as Confucius’ “great learning.” Since this “supplemented verse” is essential to our understanding Zhu Xi’s project of creating the Four Books, it is worth quoting in full. The meaning of the expression “The perfection of knowledge depends on the investigation of things” is this: If we wish to extend our knowledge to the utmost, we must investigate the principles of all things we come into contact with, for the intelligent mind of man is certainly formed to know, and there is not a single thing in which its principles do not inhere. It is only because all principles are not investigated that man’s knowledge is incomplete. For this reason, the first step in the education of the adult is to instruct the learner, in regard to all things in the world, to proceed from what knowledge he has of their principles, and investigate further until he reaches the limit. After exerting himself in this way for a long time, he will one day achieve a wide and far-reaching discernment. Then the qualities of all thing, whether internal or external, the refined or coarse, will all be apprehended, and the mind, in its total substance and great function, will be perfectly intelligent. This is called the investigation of things. This is called the perfection of knowledge. (Zhu 1983: 6–7, translation from Chan 1963: 89, with modification)

The main point of this “supplemented verse” is reaching a trance-like moment when the learners, after spending a long time studying empirical facts and analyzing the hidden principles in them, suddenly “achieve a wide and far-reaching discernment” (huoran guantong 豁然貫通) where they no longer find any distinction between what is internal and external, refined and course (Chen 2010: 309–39). Although in the “supplemented verse” Zhu Xi does not give further elaboration on what the “wide and far-reaching discernment” means, it hints at Yao’s motto “Hold Fast to the Mean,” indicating a spiritual awakening in finding all distinctions, opposites, contradictions in the phenomenal world as nothing but manifestations of the oneness of the universe. It also echoes the opening line of the Great Learning where

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after manifesting the clear character of man and refreshing the people, one reaches a highly-charged spiritual state of “abiding in the highest good.”

5 The Collected Annotations in the Analects and the Mencius What is exactly the spiritual state of “abiding in the highest good”? How do learners “hold fast to the mean” and “achieve a wide and far-reaching discernment”? These were the questions that Zhu Xi sought to answer in the collected annotations he compiled for the Analects and the Mencius. In these annotations, Zhu Xi gave order to the seemingly random utterances of Confucius and Mencius, turning the episodic style of the two texts into sustained discussions on the complexity of life, the subtlety of human relationship, the visions of political leaders, and the inevitability of human innate goodness. In addition, these annotations presented an interpretation of Confucianism based on the two Cheng brothers, focusing attention on the struggle between preserving the purity of human innate goodness and succumbing to the temptations of the flesh and the happenstances of the circumstances. To achieve these two purposes, Zhu Xi frequently evoked the theme of “pacifying human desires and preserving the heavenly principle” (e renyu er cun tianli 遏人欲而存天 理), making it the knot that tied together the Analects and the Mencius. This theme appeared in many forms. Sometimes it appeared in off-hand, brief comments; sometimes it appeared in lengthy treatises and long quotations. But, overall, the theme functioned as a reminder that learners must make strenuous efforts to check their actions and intentions. Let us turn first to the Analects. As a text, the Analects is disjointed in the sense that it is a collection of brief statements, elliptical comments, short dialogues, and patchy anecdotes. There are certainly themes that connect these seemingly fragmentary utterances, such as Confucius’ emphasis on entrusting the government to a group of morally driven “superior men” (junzi 君子), the need for an all-­ encompassing curriculum to train “superior men,” and the tragic story of Yan Hui 顏回, one of Confucius’ gifted students, who died prematurely after spending years perfecting himself morally (Makeham 2003: 214–52). And yet, none of these themes seem to attract Zhu Xi’s attention as much as the metaphysical underpinnings of moral cultivation. In a way, Zhu Xi picked the wrong text to look for discussions on the inseparability between the cosmos and human beings. There were few direct references to heaven (tian 天) or the Way of Heaven (tiandao 天道) in the Analects. As a text, the Analects was more about the practices of moral cultivation than the metaphysical roots of moral learning. Nevertheless, it did not deter Zhu Xi from finding or extracting metaphysical meanings from what appeared to be empirical descriptions of material phenomena. Take, for instance, Zhu Xi’s comments on Confucius’ lamentation over the pre-­ mature death of Yan Hui (Analects 6.2). In his comments, Zhu took the opportunity to explain not only Confucius’ regret over the loss of his precocious student, but also the type of learning that Yan Hui happily pursued before his untimely death. To

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drive home his point, Zhu quoted extensively from Cheng Yi’s essay “A Treatise on Yan Hui Loved to Learn.” From the essence of life accumulated in Heaven and Earth, man receives the Five Agents (Water, Fire, Wood, Metal, and Earth) in their highest excellence. His original nature is pure and tranquil. Before it is aroused, the five moral principles of his nature called humanity, righteousness, propriety, wisdom, and faithfulness, are complete. As his physical form appears, it comes into contact with external things and is aroused from within. As it is aroused from within, the seven feelings, called pleasure, anger, sorrow, joy, love, hate, and desire, ensue. As feelings become strong and increasingly reckless, his nature become damaged. For this reason, the enlightened person controls his feelings so that they will be in accord with the Mean. He rectifies his mind and nourishes his nature. [In the learning of the superior man], the first thing is to be clear in one’s mind and to know where to go. (Zhu 1983: 84–85; translation from Chan 1963: 547–48 with modifications)

This long quotation recapitulates the main argument of the two Cheng brothers regarding moral cultivation, namely, learners are fully equipped to be morally good because of their innate goodness, however they must make efforts to be morally good amidst distractions and temptations. Hence, moral cultivation is nothing but a struggle to “pacific human desires and preserve the heavenly principle.” For the two Chengs as well as Zhu Xi, heaven (tian 天) is the source of goodness. It endows human beings with the ability to act morally, hence forming the basis of the five Confucian principles: humanity (ren 仁), righteousness (yi 義), propriety (li 禮), wisdom (zhi 智), and faithfulness (xin 信). These moral principles not only give structure to human behavior, but also remind human beings of their cosmological roots and their solemn responsibility. In his comments on Analects 6.28, Zhu Xi skillfully used one of Confucius’ discussions of humanity to explain the metaphysical roots of moral cultivation. The Confucius’ original statement is about helping others succeed: “A man of humanity, wishing to establish his own character, also establishes the character of others, and wishing to be prominent himself, also helps other to be prominent.” In explaining this seemingly straight-­forward statement, Zhu Xi quoted Cheng Hao’s treatise, “On Understanding the Nature of Humanity.” In medical texts, the loss of the uses of limbs is referred to as buren 不仁. This term is most accurate in describing humanity. It suggests that a person forms one body with all things without differentiation. After forming one body with all things, the person sees no limit in reaching out to people and things. (Zhu 1983: 92)

By quoting Cheng Hao, Zhu Xi turned Confucius’ statement on humanity into a discussion of a state of mind where the person sees no distinction between himself and the myriad things. According to Zhu, the change in perspective is a result of realizing that the universe is a gigantic system including animate and inanimate beings, visible and invisible forces. For Zhu Xi, this change of perspective was also implied in Confucius’ brief comment by the stream: “The river passes on like this, never ceasing day or night (Analects 9.16). On the surface, the statement is just a description of the rolling river water. But in Zhu Xi’s mind, Confucius’ elliptical comment is of deep metaphysical significance.

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T.-k. Hon The transformation of heaven and earth takes the form of the coming and going [of the myriad things]. This transformation continues without stop and forms the essence of the Dao. And yet, what is visible and discernible is the rolling river water. Hence, Confucius used the image of river water to tell learners about the essence of the Dao. In so doing, the sage wanted learners to constantly examine their behaviors without interruption. (Zhu 1983: 113)

In his comment, Zhu Xi added a metaphysical dimension to Confucius’ image of river water. In equating river water to the universe’s incessant revival, Zhu Xi admonished learners to constantly check their behavior to make sure they are in accord with “the essence of the Dao.” To add more weight to his reading, Zhu Xi concluded his comment with a short statement from Cheng Yi. Since the Han dynasty, no Confucian scholars understood the deep meaning of Confucius’ comment by the stream. In Confucius’ comment, we see the sage’s mind in completely purity. Because of its purity, [the sage’s mind] embodies the virtue of heaven. Only when a person possesses the virtue of heaven, he can practice the Kingly Way. But everything must begin with self-reflection when one is alone. (Zhu 1983: 113)

In adding Cheng Yi’s comment, Zhu Xi hardened back to the eclipse of the genealogy of the Way after Mencius’ death. But, this time, he no longer focused on the achievements of the two Chengs in reviving Confucian learning. Instead, through the mouth of Cheng Yi, he highlighted the importance of finding “the essence of the Dao” in one’s mind, especially when the person is alone. This theme of staging a mental battle appeared in the collected annotations in Mencius as well. It appeared first in the opening chapters where Mencius ferociously debated with King Hui of Liang about what constitutes a good government. As is well known, Mencius’ position is that a good government must be virtuous in serving the people’s needs. In contrast, King Hui of Liang suggests that a good government must be efficient and effective in creating wealth for its rulers. The debate quickly turns into a choice between governing for virtue (renyi 仁義) or governing for profit (li 利). In his annotations, Zhu moralized this political debate. In addition to a choice between governing for virtue and governing for profit, he saw a battle in one’s mind choosing between heavenly principle or human desire. He wrote, From the start of the opening chapter to this point in the text, the message is the same. The excitement one finds in music, palaces, and sight-seeing, and the intense attention one pays to aggression, possessions, and colors, are something that are endowed to us by heaven and something that everyone shares as human being. And yet, heavenly principle and human desires are opposite even though they coexist. If people follow the heavenly principle to serve the public, they are sages who are able to fully develop their innate goodness. If people follow the human desires to benefit themselves, they abandon their innate goodness. Although the difference between the two seems to be tiny, they differ substantially in terms of [being morally] right or wrong, and respectful or based. For this reason, Mencius took the questions of King [Hui of Liang] seriously and examined his arguments thoroughly. In so doing, he showed the importance of pacifying the human desires and preserving the heavenly principle. (Zhu 1983: 219)

In moralizing the political debate, Zhu Xi transformed the choice between virtue and profit into a decision about preserving the heavenly principle or succumbing to

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human desires. More importantly, echoing the “eight steps” of the Great Learning, Zhu Xi explicitly linked “the ordering of the world” with “the rectification of the mind,” suggesting that political decision is essentially moral decision. As the text of Mencius moved from discussing political leadership to examining the source of human goodness, Zhu Xi had more opportunity to advocate “the pacification of human desires and the preservation of the heavenly principle.” At the same time, Zhu Xi felt compelled to temper Mencius’ excessive optimism over human innate goodness. For Zhu Xi, when Mencius speaks of the “sprouts” (duan 端) that make human beings act humanly, properly, righteously and wisely (Mencius 2A.6), and proclaims that everyone is fully equipped to be morally righteous (Mencius 7A.4), he is referring to the ontological condition where human beings are given all the tools and skills to be morally good. He is not referring to the existential condition where many people are unable to fully develop their innate potentials in ordinary life. To remind readers of the difference between the ontological and the existential conditions, Zhu Xi included a comment from the two Cheng brothers when discussing the “sprouts” of moral goodness. The comment goes as follows: The Two Cheng Masters said: Everyone is endowed with innate goodness. However only the superior men are capable of fully developing it. For those who are unable to develop their innate goodness, they throw themselves away. In the end, it is one’s decision to develop or not to develop the innate goodness. (Zhu 1983: 238)

This reminder is important because it calls attention to the gap between what one innately possesses and what one must do to fully actualize his or her potentials. For this reason, through the mouth of the two Chengs, Zhu Xi makes a categorical distinction between the superior men (junzi) who fully develop their innate potentials, and those who throw themselves away (ziqi 自棄) by ignoring their innate goodness. In Mencius 4A.10 Zhu Xi found another opportunity to clarify the distinction between what is innately available and what is existentially manifested. In the passage, Mencius said: “It is useless to talk to those who do violence to their own nature, and it is useless to do anything with those who throw themselves away. To speak what is against propriety and righteousness is to do violence to oneself. To say that one cannot abide by humanity and follow righteousness is to throw oneself away” (Chan 1963: 74). Again, Zhu Xi made his point by quoting the two Cheng brothers: The Two Cheng Masters said: Anyone who works hard will succeed in making change to one’s behavior and one’s mind. Even the most perturbed and unwise can make progress after many trials. Only those who do violence to their own innate nature give up the opportunity, and do not believe in their ability to change themselves. Only those who throw away themselves reject their innate goodness and do not take any action to develop it. Even if the sage lived with these people, he would not be able to convert them. They are indeed the most unwise people who can never be changed. (Zhu 1983: 281)

Here, those who do violence to their own nature (zibao 自暴) and those who throw away themselves (ziqi 自棄) become the prime examples of failing to “pacify the human desires and preserve the human principle.” For the former, they do violence

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to their own nature by rejecting what have been given to them as the “sprouts” of moral goodness. For the latter, they throw away themselves by succumbing to human desires, bringing themselves further and further away from their original goodness.

6 Verses and Sections in the Doctrine of the Mean If “the pacification of human desires and the preservation of the heavenly principle” is the glue that binds together the Analects and the Mencius, it is also the main argument in the Doctrine of the Mean. Like the Great Learning, the Doctrine of the Mean was a short chapter from the Book of Rites. In its original form, the Doctrine of the Mean was one piece of writing without breaks, same as the Great Learning (Book of Rites 2000: [52] 1661–1712). To Zhu Xi, however, the unadorned Doctrine of the Mean must be divided into verses and sections to reveal its structural beauty, which he described as “when unrolled, it reaches in all directions; when rolled up, it withdraws into secrecy” (fangzhi ze miliuhe, juanzhi ze tuicengyumi 放之則彌六 合, 卷之則退藏於密) (Zhu 1983: 17). In the text’s “withdrawing” and “reaching out,” Zhu Xi identified a three-step argument that rolled like a pounding wave. “The text begins with one principle,” Zhu Xi wrote, “then disperses into the ten thousand things, and at the end returns to the one principle” (Zhu 1983: 17). This back and forth, push and pull, gives the Doctrine of the Mean both a momentum to move forward and a direction to guide its movement. What is the “one principle” (yili 一理) of the Doctrine of the Mean? To Zhu Xi, the entire Sect. 1 is devoted to explaining that one principle. The section covers the opening statement (verse 1) and Zisi’s elaboration of it (verses 2–11). According to  Zhu Xi, the opening statement—especially the breath-taking first line: “What heaven (tian) impacts to man is called human nature. To follow our nature is called the Way. Cultivating the Way is called education”—spells out the main argument of the text. In one stroke, the opening statement summarizes the main arguments in the other three texts: the human innate goodness in the Mencius, the necessity for moral learning in the Analects, and the method of learning in the Great Learning. More importantly, the opening statement focuses attention on the individual, repeatedly emphasizing the inseparability between the individual and the Way (buke xuyu li 不 可須臾離). Suddenly all the ordinary human actions (such as pleasure, anger, sorrow, and joy) are now laden with cosmological significance and spiritual potency. Lest that some readers may feel alarmed by the immense responsibility to constantly check their behavior and thoughts (shen qidu 慎其獨), the opening statement ends with an advice for reaching balance (zhong 中) and harmony (he 和), suggesting readers to take what they do normally as the pathways to connect with the universe (zhi zhonghe tiandi weiyan wanwu yuyan 致中和, 天地位焉, 萬物育焉). Section 2 further develops the theme of reaching balance and harmony. Consisting of nine verses (verses 12–20), this section speaks about how “human beings are never separate from the Way” (dao buke li 道不可離) when managing their daily

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business. It proves that the humdrums of everyday life are full of possibilities for spiritual transcendence. Finally, Sect. 3 returns to the main argument in Sect. 1 by discussing the relationship between sincerity (cheng 誠) and enlightenment (ming 明)—an issue that Mencius raises in 4A.12. Consisting of thirteen verses (verses 21–33), this section shows that human beings can be spiritually awakened by preserving one’s innate goodness (cheng) or pacifying one’s desires (ming). Together these three sections offer three interlocking perspectives. First, the spiritual awakening is ontologically possible because of human innate goodness (Sect. 1). Second, the spiritual awakening is existential possible because in everyday life human beings and the cosmos are inseparable (Sect. 2). Third, the spiritual awakening is practically attainable either by preserving one’s innate goodness (cheng) or by pacifying one’s desires (ming) (Sect. 3). For this reason, Zhu Xi regarded the Doctrine of the Mean the most profound of the Four Books and asked readers to read it last. The irony is that despite the Doctrine of the Mean offers a cohesive argument for spiritual awakening, it lacks a discussion of cosmology. Although heaven (tian) is often mentioned as the source of human goodness and the driving force of moral actions, there is no attempt to define it or describe its functions. This treatment of the cosmos is drastically different from other Neo-Confucian texts such as Zhou Dunyi’s Taijitu shuo 太極圖說 (Explanations of the Diagram of the Supreme Polarity), where the Taiji 太極 diagram and Zhou Dunyi’s comments offer a vivid picture of how the cosmos is directly and intimately connected to human behavior (Adler 2014: 111–36; Hon 2010). But this conspicuous absence of a cosmological discussion may not necessarily be a shortcoming. Throughout the Four Books, Zhu Xi was not concerned with proving a direct link between the cosmos and the individuals. Rather, he was interested in training readers to see the humdrums of everyday life as being laden with cosmological meaning and transcendental potency. As such, Zhu Xi’s moral metaphysics can be called a phenomenology of everyday life, where a simple act of preparing a meal, cleaning a window, or sweeping the floor is viewed as ontologically part of the cosmos’s renewal, and potentially a turning point in reaching moral perfection and spiritual transcendence.

7 Conclusion: The Locus Classicus of a New Confucian Philosophy In his multi-volume studies of Zhu Xi’s thoughts and writings, historian Qian Mu 錢穆 emphasizes Zhu’s combined talents as a philosopher and a classical scholar. He argues that Zhu Xi could have been another brilliant thinker (like Zhou Dunyi and Cheng Yi) if he had settled with writing philosophical treatises. Instead, Zhu used his knowledge and erudition to compile and annotate the Four Books. Although the compilation and annotation of the Four Books was such a massive project that Zhu Xi had to labor throughout his life, he created a cohesive textual body to

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explain his moral metaphysics and thereby altered the direction of Confucianism (Qian 1971 vol.1: 190–97). From what we have discussed, Zhu Xi was indeed a gifted philosopher and a learned scholar. Rather than using passages from the Great Learning, the Analects, the Mencius, and the Doctrine of the Mean to discuss moral metaphysics as the Northern Song masters had done, Zhu created a locus classicus in which he weaved his philosophical arguments into the four accepted classical texts. Either by dividing the texts into verses and sections, or adding annotations and comments into the texts, Zhu Xi successfully connected the Four Books into “a perfectly cohesive unit, a harmonious whole in which one part had little or no meaning without the other three.” The result of this meticulous weaving was astounding. Together the Four Books shifted the emphasis of Confucianism from “fathoming the universe and ordering the world” in the early imperial period to “pacifying human desires and preserving the heavenly principle” in the late imperial period. This shift ushered in a restructuring of the priorities of Confucian learning. Instead of focusing on becoming “an outer king” (waiwang) as in the times of Confucius and Mencius, Zhu Xi emphasized becoming “an inner sage” (neishang), making daily life the battle ground of moral perfection and spiritual transcendence. By showing the inseparability between the metaphysical world and the phenomenal world, the sacred and the profane, Zhu Xi created a new form of Confucianism that took seriously the multiplicity of human existence, the messiness of human condition, and the challenge of self-cultivation of the individuals. Aiming at helping people to cope with the uncertainty and serendipity of daily life, Zhu’s Confucianism was intended not only for the politically powerful, but also for other sectors of society—young and old, rich and poor, educated and uneducated (Hon 2012).

References Adler, Joseph A. 2014. Reconstructing the Confucian Dao: Zhu Xi’s Appropriation of Zhou Dunyi. Albany: State University of New York Press. (An insightful study of Zhu Xi’s creative interpretation of Northern Song thinker, Zhou Dunyi.) Berthrong, John. 2000. “Expanding the Tao: Chu Hsi’s Commentary on the Ta-Hsueh.” In Ching-I Tu, eds., Classics and Interpretations: The Hermeneutic Tradition in Chinese Culture (3–22). New Brunswick: Transaction Publishers. (An informative study of Zhu Xi’s commentary on the Great Learning.) Book of Rites 禮記. 2000. In The Corrected Meanings of the Book of Rites 禮記正義. Beijing 北 京: Beijing daxue chubanshe 北京大學出版社. Cai, Fanglu 蔡方鹿. 2000. Zhuzi and Chinese Culture 朱子與中國文化. Guiyang 貴陽: Guizho renmin chubanshe 貴州人民出版社. Chan, Wing-tsit (Chen, Rongjie) 陳榮捷. 1963. A Source Book in Chinese Philosophy. New Jersey: Princeton University Press. ———. 1973. “Chu Hsi’s Completion of Neo-Confucianism.” Etudes Song, Series II: 59–90. (A collection of essays by a major scholar of Zhu Xi’s thought.) ———. 1988. Studies of Zhu Xi 朱學論集. Taipei 臺北: Xuesheng shuju 學生書局.

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———. 1989. Chu Hsi: New Studies. Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press. ———. 1995. New Studies of Neo-Confucianism 新儒學論集. Taipei 臺北: Zhongyang yanjiuyuan zhongguo wenzhe yanjiusuo choubeichu 中央硏究院中國文哲硏究所籌備處. Chen, Lai 陳來. 2010. Studies of Zhuzi’s Philosophy 朱子哲學研究. Beijing 北京: Sanlian shudian 三聯書店. (An insightful study of Zhu Xi’s philosophy.) Cheng, Chung-ying. 2000. “The Daoxue at Issue: An Exercise of Onto-Hermeneutics Interpretation of Interpretations.” In Ching-I Tu, eds., Classics and Interpretations: The Hermeneutic Tradition in Chinese Culture (23–44). New Brunswick: Transaction Publishers. Gardner, Daniel K. 1986. Chu Hsi and the Ta-Hsueh: Neo-Confucian Reflections on the Confucian Canon. Cambridge, MA: Council on East Asian Studies, Harvard University. (A thoughtful study of Zhu Xi’s interpretation of the Great Learning.) ———. 1990. Learning to be a Sage: Selections from Conversations of Master Chu: Arranged Topically. Berkeley: University of California Press. Han, Yu 韓愈. 1986. “On the Nature of the Way 原道.” In The Annotated Collection of Writings by Han Changli 韓昌黎文集校注. Shanghai 上海: Shanghai guji chubanshe 上海古籍出版社. Henderson, John B. 2000. “Touchstones of Neo-Confucian Orthodoxy.” In Ching-I Tu, eds., Classics and Interpretations: The Hermeneutic Tradition in Chinese Culture (71–84). New Brunswick: Transaction Publishers. Hon, Tze-ki. 2003, June. “Human Agency and Change: A Reading of Wang Bi’s Yijing Commentary.” Journal of Chinese Philosophy 30.2: 223–242. ———. 2010. “Zhou Dunyi’s Philosophy of the Supreme Polarity.” In John Makeham, eds., Dao Companion to Neo-Confucian Philosophy (1–16). Dordrecht: Springer. ———. 2012, May. “From Sheng Min 生民 to Si Min 四民: Social Changes in Late Imperial China.” Journal of Political Science and Sociology (Keio University, Tokyo) 16: 11–31. Lin, Weijie 林維杰. 2008. Zhu Xi and Classical Exegesis 朱熹與經典詮釋. Taipei 臺北: Taida chuban zhongxin 臺大出版中心. Loewe, Michael. 1994. Divination, Mythology and Monarchy in Han China. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Makeham, John. 2003. Transmitters and Creators: Chinese Commentators and Commentaries on the Analects. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Asia Center. Mou, Zongsan 牟宗三. 1968. The Substance of the Mind and the Substance of Human Nature 心 體與性體, 3 vols. Taipei 臺北: Zhengzhong shuju 正中書局. (A ground-breaking study of Neo-Confucianism as a system of philosophy.) Nylan, Michael. 2001. The Five “Confucian” Classics. New Haven: Yale University Press. Qian, Mu 錢穆. 1971. New Studies of Zhu Xi’s Thought and Learning 朱子新學案, 5 vols. Taipei 臺北: Sanmin shuju 三民書局. (A comprehensive study of Zhu Xi as a philosopher and a classicist.) ———. 1977. A Brief Introduction to Song–Ming Neo Confucianism 宋明理學概論. Taipei 臺 北: Xuesheng shudian 學生書局. (A thoughtful introduction to Neo-Confucianism as a system of thought.) Tillman, Hoyt C. 1992. Confucian Discourse and Chu Hsi’s Ascendancy. Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press. (A thoughtful study of the rise of Zhu Xi’s learning.) Tu, Wei-ming. 1985. Confucian Thought: Selfhood as Creative Transformation. Albany: State University of New  York Press. (An insightful study of Neo-Confucianism as a philosophy system.) ———. 1993. Way, Learning, and Politics: Essays on the Confucian Intellectuals. Albany: State University of New York Press. Yu, Yingshi 余英時. 2013. The Historical World of Zhu Xi 朱熹的歷史世界, 2 vols. Taipei 臺北: Yunchen wenhua 允晨文化實業股份有限公司. Zhou, Yuanxia 周元俠. 2012. Studies of Zhu Xi’s Combined Commentaries on Lun Yu: Including A Study of the Hermeneutical Significance of Combined Commentaries on Lun Yu 朱熹的《論 語集注》的研究:兼論《論語集注》的解釋學意義. Beijing 北京: Zhongguo shehui kexue chubanshe 中國社會科學出版社.

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Zhu, Xi 朱熹. 1983. The Verses, Sections, and Combined Commentaries on the Four Books 四書 章句集注. Beijing 北京: Zhonghua shuju 中華書局. ———. 1986. Conversations of Master Zhu: Arranged Topically 朱子語類. Beijing 北京: Zhonghua shuju 中華書局. ———. 1996. Reflections on Things at Hand 近思錄, annotated by Zhang Boxing 張伯行. Taipei 臺北: Shangwu yinshuguan 商務印書館. Tze-ki  Hon is a professor at the Department of Chinese and History, City University of Hong Kong. His main research interests include the commentaries of the Yijing (Book of Changes), NeoConfucianism of the Song-Ming period, and the social and intellectual history of modern China.  

Chapter 5

Zhu Xi’s Interpretation of the Five Canonical Scriptures Hans van Ess

1 Introduction With the advent of the Song dynasty the general approach to the canonical scriptures of Confucianism began to change. As is well-known, under the Tang there had been a state-sponsored project which resulted in the production of subcommentaries on Confucian scriptures by a team led by Kong Yingda 孔穎達 (574–648), Jia Gongyan 賈公彥 (seventh century) and others on the commentaries that mostly dated back to the Han dynasty. Song scholars believed that the Han commentators had invested too much time into writing philological glosses, thereby forgetting to discuss the content and meaning of the texts. Although this idea of some Song scholars certainly lacked fairness as to what their predecessors had actually done, and as to the basis for the Song scholars’ own work that they had provided, it did serve as the starting point for reinterpretations of all major scriptures (Pi 1959: 2, 220). Especially for the Changes (Yi 易) and the Annals (Chunqiu 春秋), that were to become the two single most important canonical scriptures of that period, more than a hundred new commentaries were written from the beginning of the eleventh to the end of the thirteenth century. Since Hu Yuan 胡瑗 (993–1059) made a beginning with his Oral Interpretations of the Changes of the Zhou (Zhouyi kou yi 周易 口義) (Hon 2000: 67–92), for example, all major Confucians of the Northern Song, including Ouyang Xiu 歐陽修 (1007–1072), Zhang Zai 張載 (1020–1077), Sima Guang 司馬光 (1019–1086), Shao Yong 邵雍 (1011–1077), Su Shi 蘇軾 (1037–1101) and Cheng Yi 程頤 (1033–1107) devoted time to writing explanations of the Changes. Notably the Zhouyi Chengshi zhuan 周易程氏傳 (Commentary of Master Cheng of the Zhou Changes) was to become a text that influenced Zhu Xi heavily (Adler 1984). New commentaries on the Annals, too, were written shortly H. van Ess (*) Department of Asian Studies, LMU Munich, Munich, Bavaria, Germany e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2020 K.-c. Ng, Y. Huang (eds.), Dao Companion to ZHU Xi’s Philosophy, Dao Companions to Chinese Philosophy 13, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-29175-4_5

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after the beginning of the Song dynasty by Sun Fu 孫復 (992–1057) and Sun Jue 孫覺 (1028–1090). Among many others, Cheng Yi contributed some interpretations on that text, and he was followed by Hu Anguo 胡安國 (1074–1138), who submitted his Chunqiu Hushi zhuan 春秋胡氏傳 (Commentary of Master Hu to the Spring and Autumn Annals) to the throne in 1137, shortly after the fall of the Northern Song. This text was to become the standard exegesis of the Annals for centuries to come, although several other famous authors also wrote lengthy commentaries on this scripture (Song 1979; Wood 1995; van Ess 2003). Although Zhu Xi did not agree with some major philosophical ideas of Hu Hong 胡宏 (1105–1161) and his group in Hunan (Schirokauer 1986), he thought that Hu Anguo’s commentary was a masterpiece and therefore apparently did not consider writing one himself. Wang Anshi 王安石 (1021–1086) used his own new interpretations of the Documents (Shu 書), the Odes (Shi 詩), and, especially, the Rites of Zhou (Zhouli 周 禮) to justify his reformist politics. This may be a reason why, after Wang’s reforms were rescinded, these three scriptures did not receive as much attention as the Changes and the Annals. In fact, scholars such as Su Shi or Lin Zhiqi 林之奇 (1112–1176) did write extensive commentaries on the Documents, but an authoritative interpretation was only produced when, according to the Songshi 宋史 (History of the Song), Zhu Xi commanded Cai Shen 蔡沈 (1167–1230), one of his students, to do so in 1199, one year before his own death (Tuotuo et al. 1985: [434] 12876–77). The Odes had been tackled by such scholars as Ouyang Xiu, Su Che 蘇徹 (1039–1112), and Wang Zhi 王質 (1135–1189), but a major breakthrough was Zhu Xi’s Shi ji zhuan 詩集傳 (Collected Commentaries to the Odes) that also became a standard interpretation later on. As the Rites of Zhou (Zhouli 周禮) or Offices of Zhou (Zhouguan 周官) was the major canonical basis for Wang Anshi’s reforms, there were not many scholars who focused on that text later on during the Song. There is an especial lack of interest in the Zhouli among the followers of the Learning of the Right Way movement (daoxue 道學), including Zhu Xi. However, Zhu Xi did write a lengthy commentary on the Yili 儀禮 (Ceremonial Rites), which is preceded by a memorial in which he stressed that the Yili was the true scripture of the rites, and that it was of paramount importance. As Qian Mu 錢穆 (1895–1990) put it, in his canonical studies Zhu Xi concentrated most on the Changes and the Odes. It is in his work on these books that Zhu’s greatest contributions to the principles of the school of new Confucians of the Song lay, but he also stressed the importance of the Rites (Qian 1986: 1231 and 1309). In what follows a brief summary of Zhu Xi’s interest in the canonical scriptures of Confucianism will be fleshed out with more detail. Zhu Xi’s steps to his final position with regard to any of the canonical scriptures will be traced back one after the other. The first scripture to be discussed, of course, are the Changes.

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2 Zhu Xi and the Canonical Scriptures Zhu Xi’s ideas about the way how the scriptures should be studied can be most easily found in his general remarks on the Changes in the Classified Conversations of Master Zhu (Zhuzi yulei 朱子語類). In “On the method of reading the Changes,” (Du Yi fa 讀易法) he says, for example: “The Changes are a thing that does not have form or shadow, so it is better first to read the Odes, the Documents and the Rites which is, moreover, truly important” (Zhu 1986: [67] 1658). According to him the Odes, Documents, and Rites are what the sages used for the purpose of teaching students, while the Changes was a text that even the Master only started to study at the age of fifty (Analects 7.17). “The Odes, Documents, Rites, and Music all explain those affairs that are already there, while it is only the Changes which explain those things which are not yet there” (Zhu 1986: [75] 1922; Qian 1986: 1231). Other scriptures were down to the earth and easy to learn, while the Changes and the Annals were difficult. “The Changes and the Annals are difficult to look at and should not come first in the [curriculum] of the students” (Zhu 1986: [67] 1660). The reason for this was that one could understand (or misunderstand) judgements in the Annals as praise as well as blame, while in the case of the Changes two mutually exclusive explanations were possible. The Changes was the most respected scripture of antiquity, while the Annals was the most important book of middle antiquity, both being difficult to understand. While the Changes respected [the creative, male principle of] yang 陽 and suppressed [the receptive, female principle of] yin 陰, advancing the superior man and rejecting petty people, the Annals respected the king, belittled the hegemon, and considered the middle states as interior and the barbarians as exterior (Zhu 1986: [67] 1659). We do find a clear preference in the Zhuzi yulei for the Changes and the Annals as the two central canonical scriptures: “The Documents of Han (Hanshu 漢書) state: ‘The Changes are rooted in the hidden in order to proceed to what is open, while the Annals deduce what is hidden from what is visible. The Changes and the Annals [correspond] to the ways of Heaven and man’ (Ban 1962: [57A] 2609, [21A] 981). The Changes by means of what is above-form explain what is below-form; the Annals by means of what is below-form explain what is above-form” (Zhu 1986: [67] 1673; Qian 1986: 1231). Despite the idea that the Changes and the Annals are central, Zhu Xi wrote commentaries only to the Changes, the Odes, and the Ceremonial Rites. In the following discussion, we will try to explain why he made that choice.

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2.1 Zhu Xi and the Changes The Yijing (Changes) had been important throughout the Northern Song period. Yet, while many Yijing commentaries had been written during the Northern Song, according to the Zhuzi yulei, it was the commentary by Cheng Yi and to a lesser extent the one by Shao Yong that served as the main tool of introduction to that scripture for Zhu Xi. He stated that Shao Yong was only interested in “numbers” (shu 數), meaning divination by milfoil, and that this was the reason why the two Cheng Brothers were not willing to ask him about his scholarship. Zhu Xi agreed with the Chengs. In one entry, he described how Wang Tianyue 王天悅 once visited Shao Yong during a snowy night, and saw how he was deeply concerned to find out the state of Heaven, Earth, and the ten thousand things simply from the bottom of his heart (Zhu 1986: [67] 1648). On the one hand, he clearly denied that the sages would have only sat in meditation, just in order to be able to say which event would happen on which given day of which month of a given year: “The sages certainly did not think about this!” (Zhu 1986: [67] 1649). But on the other hand, he conceded that Shao Yong had been really strong in making use of the Changes for his divinatory purposes (Zhu 1986: [67] 1649), and he was also critical of the scholarly approach of Cheng Yi to the Yijing. Recent scholarship has stressed Zhu Xi’s critique of Cheng Yi (Adler in Smith et al. 1990: 179–205), but we should not forget that he also said that in former times people had only been interested in the divinatory aspect of the Changes, and that it was only with the school of the Cheng, that they also started to think about reason (daoli 道理). Moreover, he stressed that in Cheng Yi’s commentary on the Changes, there was not a single sentence that was not accurate (Zhu 1986: [67] 1649). On the other hand, he also stated that Cheng Yi taught others just to look at the commentaries on the Changes by Wang Bi 王弼 (226–49), Hu Yuan, and Wang Anshi. Cheng Yi’s understanding of the meaning (yili 義理) of the Changes was, according to Zhu Xi, fine; the number of characters in it was appropriate, and nothing was lacking. No one else would have been able to do this naturally right as he did! It was just that Zhu was not in agreement with Cheng Yi as far as the original meaning (ben yi 本義) of the text was concerned, namely the Changes as a book on divination. In that respect the texts on the hexagrams and on the individual lines contained everything, and it just depended on the reader to find out how to make use of these things. Master Cheng’s intellectual discussions just explained one aspect (li 理), not the other (divination) (Zhu 1986: [67] 1651; Hon 2005). Zhu Xi thought that, “When [in life] there was a particular situation (li 理) there also was a pneuma (qi 氣), and when there was this pneuma, there would be the [corresponding] number [of milfoil stalks leading to one particular hexagram in divination]” (Zhu 1986: [65] 1608).1 The difference in the two main

 The translation of “li” as “situation” may look strange here, as the standard translation is “principle,” but I do think that we should here translate according to what Zhu actually wanted to say— and that is not that there was some abstract principle in life. He was talking about concrete situations in which one had to make use of the Changes. 1

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approaches to the Changes in Zhu Xi’s time clearly lay in the divinatory approach of images (xiang 象, hexagrams) and lines (yao 爻) produced by numbers (shu 數) of milfoils stalks, on the one hand, and the rational approach characterized by the interpretation of what the text belonging to the individual lines actually wanted to say, the “right meaning and patterns” (yili 義理) on the other.2 The main proponents of these two approaches were Shao Yong and Cheng Yi in the eleventh century. Zhu Xi clearly wanted to achieve a synthesis of these two lines of tradition and so he prepared his own commentary as the result of this attempt. It is impossible in a brief article on Zhu Xi’s ideas about all canonical scriptures to discuss what he told his students, friends, and colleagues about the Changes. Suffice it to say that 13 out of 140 chapters of the Zhuzi yulei are devoted to this subject which make up altogether 374 pages in the modern Zhonghua shuju 中華書 局 edition. There are many letters that discuss aspects of the Yijing, and so it is clear that this was the text he was most concerned with. No other canonical scripture received as much attention from him as this one. We know that in 1175 Zhu Xi first started to work on a commentary on the Changes (Liao in Zhu 2009: 1; Wang in Zhu 2002: 1), although it seems that, when he produced his own first version of an interpretation called Yizhuan 易傳 (Commentary to the Changes) in 1177, he first remained strongly under the influence of Cheng Yi who had named his commentary the same way. He himself was not satisfied with what he had come up with and directed one of his students to another text that he had completed together with Cai Yuanding 蔡元定 (1135–1198) in 1186, namely the Introduction to the Study of the Changes for Beginners (Yixue qimeng 易學啟蒙) (Zhu 2002: 203–4). This book explains the numerological and divinatory aspects of the Changes. It also contains an introduction into the understanding of the He 河 and Luo 洛 diagrams and theories about the meaning of broken and unbroken lines and their combinations into two-line diagrams, trigrams, tetra- and pentagrams, and finally all 64 hexagrams in a sequence different from the traditionally transmitted one.3 In addition to two diagrams for the arrangement of the trigrams, they also explained the Fuxi 伏羲 diagram for arranging the 64 hexagrams and proceed to different possibilities of drawing from the fifty milfoil stalks needed in the divination process. In his explanations Zhu Xi in the Introduction to the Study of the Changes for Beginners frequently refers to Shao Yong, but not to Cheng Yi. It is interesting to note that Zhu Xi says that, contrary to Shao Yong, Cheng Yi did not understand the “original meaning” (benyi 本義) (Zhu 1986: [67] 1651) of the Changes since his own commentary is called Zhouyi benyi (Original Meaning of the Changes of Zhou). It therefore would seem that by selecting this title Zhu Xi wanted to make sure that he did not anymore want to entitle his book Commentary to the Changes 易傳, as he had done when he was 45  years old. Apparently, he  I do not think that yili means moral principles as Chan Wing-tsit usually translated that term. Although a moralistic approach may be behind that term, it refers to the intellectual attempt to understand what the individual lines of the Changes actually say. 3  Zhu and Cai start with the hexagram qian 乾 and end with kun 坤. In between the hexagrams are arranged according to a system of their own. 2

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wanted to let his reader understand that his text was not just a complement to Cheng Yi’s commentary, but that it actually added the most important aspect of the Changes. The Original Meaning of the Changes of Zhou seems to have occupied Zhu Xi’s mind for a long time. It is not completely clear when he completed this book, but it does seem that he did not add any text after 1198, two years before his death (Zhu 2009: 3). While for the Commentary to the Changes Zhu Xi relied on the Wang Bi recension that combined scripture and commentaries, for the benyi, he accepted the old Zhouyi recension, which divided scripture and commentaries (Zhu 2009: Introduction 1). The earliest print of this book, was, however, produced only in 1265, although the text circulated earlier. During Ming and Qing times the Original Meaning of the Changes of Zhou superseded the earlier recensions by Wang Bi and Kong Yingda as primary text for the palace examinations (Zhu 2009: Introduction 8. See on p. 5ff. for the history of the text). After a short preface, the Original Meaning of the Changes of Zhou starts with a detailed description of the divinization process itself, adding then a section on songs to memorize the sequence of the hexagrams, followed by diagrams and several lists of hexagrams grouped according to the number of Yin and Yang lines contained in them. Only then do we find Zhu Xi’s commentary on the Yijing. In this book Zhu Xi claimed that one should not overlook—as many Song scholars had done—the fact that the foremost purpose of the Changes had been that of a manual for divination.

2.2 Zhu Xi and the Odes While the allegorical readings of the Mao 毛/Zheng 鄭 recension of the Shijing, the Canon of the Odes, were attacked as time-honoured but wrong readings of Chinese tradition during the May Fourth Movement, one should be aware of the fact that 700 years earlier Zhu Xi had already overthrown these interpretations before Qing scholarship restored them to the position of standard versions. However, as with the Changes, the reader has to be aware of the fact that Zhu Xi’s opinion concerning the Odes underwent a long process of numerous changes. In exchanges with Lü Zuqian 呂祖謙 (1137–1181), when frequently talking about the Odes, Zhu Xi still referred to the traditional Mao/Zheng commentaries. This can be seen in the “Notes on the Odes in the Private Studio of Mr Lü” (Lüshi jiashu du Shi ji 呂氏家塾讀詩記) by Lü Zuqian. Though Zhu Xi, in his “epilogue” to this text, praises Lü Zuqian for the fact that he was able to make use of Song interpretations that had already started to free the Odes from the mistaken views of Mao and Zheng, he still regrets that Lü Zuqian called him “Master Zhu,” while his opinions he had quoted were only “shallow and rustic explanations” which he had made in his youth (Zhu 1980: 76/6B–7B, on p. 7A). While Qian Mu thought that Zhu Xi’s attack on the ideas contained in the small prefaces of the Mao tradition in his “Discussions on the Prefaces to the Odes” (Shi xu bianshuo 詩序辨說) constituted the second phase of Zhu Xi’s Shijing-scholarship, Achim Mittag has actually detected a middle version of Zhu

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Xi’s commentary on this scripture that is cited widely in the “Composite Explanations on the Mao Shi” (Conggui Mao Shi jijie 叢桂毛詩集解) by Duan Changwu 段昌 武 and in the “Compilation Concerning the Odes” (Shi ji 詩緝) by Yan Can 嚴粲, both with a preface dated 1248 (Mittag 1993a: 201, b: 153–90). The last phase of Zhu Xi’s Shijing scholarship is represented by his famous Collected Commentaries to the Odes (Shi Jizhuan 詩集傳). This text has come down to us in one version with 20 juan and another with 8 juan. Contrary to this last version of Zhu Xi’s ideas on the Odes, it seems that the middle version quoted in the two commentaries mentioned above as well as in some of his letters still contained the small Mao prefaces to the Odes. Similarly, it did not yet contain Zhu Xi’s interpretation of many Odes from Wei 衞 and Zheng 鄭 as “depraved songs” that had been sung in the lanes of wards and villages by narrow-minded and perverted people (Zhu 2002: [1] 365, Shi xu bianshuo). Rather, they were still considered orthodox songs meant to criticize misbehavior in the ruling house of the state of Wei. In his Preface to the Collected Commentaries to the Odes dated in the year of 1178 (Wang 1982: 67–69), Zhu Xi went even further by stating that many of those odes in the Shijing called “Feng 風,” those coming from the first of the four sections, actually were created out of “songs and ditties from the lanes of wards and villages” and were expressions of the feelings of men and women to each other by the way of singing (Zhu 2002: 351).4 In a text entitled “Reading the Notes of Master Lü on the piece ‘In the Mulberries’” (Du Lüshi Shiji Sangzhongye 讀呂氏詩記桑中篇), dated to the year of 1184, Zhu claimed that the styles of the Odes were not the same. There were some which plainly expressed a matter so that their meaning could be understood without the need a single additional word. Yet, this was only the case with songs which dealt with matters that could be openly spoken of.5 The content of other pieces, however, was such that noble persons or adult men (yashi zhuangshi 雅人壯士) had difficulties in talking about them, because they were ashamed to discuss their licentious contents. Confucius’ famous saying that there was one single sentence to cover all three hundred pieces of the Odes, namely “having no depraved thoughts” (si wu xie 思無邪) (Analects 2.2) meant only that in principle all songs “came out of the correct,” but that the matter was not settled that easily. According to Zhu, Confucius did not mean that those who composed the Odes all had no depraved thoughts. The compiler took Odes of people with depraved thoughts as a warning for later generations (Zhu 1980: 70/1A–2B).6 The section on the Odes in the Zhuzi yulei starts actually with the sentence: “It is only the one sentence “Having no depraved thoughts” that is good, but that does not mean that in the whole Odes no one has depraved thoughts” (Zhu 1986: [80] 2065). It is interesting

 See also Shi zhuan gangling 詩傳綱領 (Outline of the Commentary to the Odes; Zhu 2002: 345) which explains that the Odes were made by many different people: some by lords, ministers or dignitaries, others by ordinary men and women. 5  Such as Mao no. 79, one of the Zheng Odes that was unexpectedly not considered to be depraved. 6  Similar explanations of this Analects (Lunyu) passage are to be found in Shi zhuan gangling in Zhu (2002: 347) and in Lunyu jizhu 論語集注 in (Zhu 1983: 53). 4

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to note that there are altogether only two chapters devoted to the Odes in the Zhuzi yulei. Zhu Xi’s Collected Commentaries to the Odes is preceded by an “Outline of the Commentary to the Odes” (Shi zhuan gangling 詩傳綱領), a “Preface to the Collected Commentaries on the Odes,” and his “Discussion on the Prefaces of the Odes.” The “Outline” starts out with a commentary on the Great Preface to the Odes on which Zhu said that it had “also been written by a later person and that it contained problematic sentences” (Zhu 1986: [80] 2072). What he did like about the Great Preface was the categorization of poems according to the types of fu 賦 (exposition), bi 比 (comparison), and xing 興 (stimulus), which he standardly added to all poems in his commentary, a feature that the Mao/Zheng recension did not offer.7 According to him, a fu is a direct description of an event or a matter. For this Zhu takes odes 2 and 3 as examples. Out of these two, ode 2 had been classified as a xing by Mao (Ruan 1980: 276B). These poems describe what the young lady known from Ode 1 did to prepare for her marriage. A bi is simply a “comparison” such as in Mao 5 and 27. Mao 5 sings of locusts which have a great many descendants, and the Mao preface says that it was meant to speak of the fact that the family of the lord whom the princess from Ode 1 married could have many descendants because she was not jealous (Ruan 1980: 279A). In his “Discussion of the Prefaces,” Zhu Xi criticized the author of this preface for not understanding the category (ti 體) of this ode as a “comparison” (bi 比), because he thought that the locusts themselves were not jealous, which did not make sense (Zhu 2002: 357).8 A xing is explained by Zhu Xi as an Ode that takes a being (wu 物) in order to start or stimulate (xing 興) the words (ci 詞). Examples are Odes 1, the famous Guanjue 關雎 about a bird that symbolizes the virtuous young bride and 7 about a rabbit-catcher, “as fit to be a prince’s mate” (Legge 1983: 13). Yet, Zhu Xi acknowledged that while some odes exclusively belonged to the category of a “comparison” (such as Ode 5), others (such as Ode 27) also contained elements of a stimulus. While Ode 7 was an exclusive stimulus, there were others (such as Ode 1) that also had elements of a comparison, something a student definitely had to understand. The Feng section had to come first in the description of the so-called “six meanings” (liuyi 六義) since it already included all three types of categorizations (Zhu 2002: 344). The “Outline” goes on to quote and comment on the most important sentences from the Odes to be found in the Documents, the Rites of Zhou, the Liji (Notes on the Rites), the Analects, the Mengzi as well as in the sayings of the Cheng brothers and their disciple, Xie Liangzuo 謝良佐 (1050–1103). Later, Zhu Xi explains that the Odes are that which man has on his mind and which cannot be explained  Consult Zhu (1986: [80] 2072) where Zhu is quoted as having said that in the Great Preface only the idea of the six meanings is correct, namely the four parts of Feng, Daya 大雅 and Xiaoya 小 雅, and Song 頌 as well as the categories fu, bi, and xing. As is well-known, the Mao and Zheng commentaries only occasionally refer to Odes as xing. 8  An explanation of what bi means is also to be found in Zhu’s commentary on this Ode itself in Zhu (2002: 406). For Ode 27 see Shi xu bianshuo (Zhu 2002: 362) and Shi ji zhuan (Zhu 2002: 423–24). 7

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a­ nymore by words. One of the longest reflections in Zhu Xi’s “Discussion of the Prefaces” concerns the preface to the first Ode. Here he summarizes some of his ideas about the Odes in general, which have been discussed above. More important are Zhu Xi’s extended judgments on other odes, such as number 26, “The Boat of Cypress Wood” (Bo zhou 柏舟). He takes this ode as an example to expound at length his idea that the author of the small prefaces often ascribed a particular ode to a particular person or event without the slightest hint that this had to be so. According to Zhu, “80 to 90 percent of the mistakes of the small prefaces were like this” (Zhu 2002: 361). Of similar length is his exposition of the poem “In the Mulberries” (Sangzhong 桑中, Mao 48): it is a poem about the hopes of a man who has been promised a rendezvous with three different women. Here, Zhu first criticizes the author of the small preface for the view that this poem was directed against “running into one another’s arms” in the ruling house of Wei: “Even men of hereditary families, sustaining high offices, stole one another’s wives and concubines, arranging meetings in hidden and distant spots” (Legge 1983: prolegomena 44). According to Zhu Xi, this Ode was written by someone who himself wanted to run into the arms of these women, not by someone who criticized this behavior. He thought that, should this behavior be criticized, the author would have indicated that at some place—otherwise he would have run the risk of encouraging people to do evil instead of criticizing them for so doing, because most people would not have detected the criticism (Zhu 2002: 365, 444). Zhu Xi’s major finding concerning the Odes was that they were not all written solely for the purpose of criticism or by morally superior persons; instead, many authors of single odes were what Confucians considered to be evil-doers themselves. Confucius left these texts within the canon in order to let them serve as a warning for later generations.

2.3 Zhu Xi and the Documents In the Collected Writings of Zhu Xi there is a postscript written in 1191, in which he commented on the printing of four canonical scriptures, namely the Documents, the Odes, the Changes and the Spring and Autumn Annals (Zhu 1980: [82] 20B–23A; [65] 4b–5a; find similar statements in Zhu 1986: [78] 1978; Qian 1986: 1287). Regarding the Documents, he pointed out that, while the Confucians of the Han period ascribed the new text version of the Documents to Fu Sheng 伏生 and the old text version to Kong Anguo 孔安國, the old text version was much easier to read than the new text one. Some had explained this strange fact by textual loss during the process of oral transmission of the new text version after the death of Fu Sheng. Zhu Xi answered that this applied to all texts dating to the time before the Qin. He also rejected other explanations and stated that the text of the prefaces, traditionally ascribed to Kong Anguo, sometimes did not fit the text of the documents they were attached to. Moreover, the preface by Kong Anguo did not resemble the style of the Western Han period according to Zhu Xi. “All this,” Zhu said, “should be doubted.”

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Qian Mu (Qian 1986: 1287) concludes that such statements made Zhu Xi a forerunner of the critical tradition of the Ming and Qing period. He was one of the first to have recognized that the old text chapters of the Documents were a forgery. Yet, Zhu Xi did not produce a commentary on the Documents himself. In his discussions of the Documents he frequently referred to predecessors such as Ouyang Xiu and Hu Hong (Zhu 1986: [78] 1977, 1979). About his own ambitions, he once said that “he could not contribute anything” and that he found the Documents difficult to read. He once wanted to write an “Explanation of the Documents,” but was not able to complete anything meaningful. When his counterpart asked him to do something about this because otherwise later generations would not have any basis to understand “the origins of the ancient emperors and kings,” he answered that others would probably do better in the future (Zhu 1986: [78] 1981). When asked about how to read the Documents, he referred to the text of the “Great Learning,” with its stress on the necessity to order one’s family, one’s state, and finally the empire as preconditions for sagely living. He thought that reading commentaries on the Documents did not gain very much and so preferred to read the original text itself. The reason for Zhu’s reluctance to write a commentary was that he thought that too much specialized knowledge on matters such as astronomy or geography was necessary, technical knowledge which he did not possess. Yet, Wang Maohong 王 懋竑 (1668–1741), the best known biographer of Zhu Xi, refers to an entry in Zhu Xi’s Chronological Curriculum Vitae, which says that in 1199, one year before his death, Zhu Xi indeed wrote up commentaries on the “Statues of Yao and Shun” (Yaodian 堯典, Shundian 舜典), on the “Counsels of the Great Yu” (Da Yu mou 大 禹謨) chapter, on the “Metal Cassette” (Jin teng 金滕), and on the “Declaration of Shao” (Shaogao 召誥), “Declaration at Luo” (Luogao 洛誥), the “Completion of the War” (Wucheng 武成); along with these he wrote more than a hundred paragraphs of his own, probably on all kinds of different issues concerning the Documents. The rest he had all orally taught his student Cai Shen 蔡沈, whose commentary is known under the title of Shu ji zhuan 書集傳 (Collected Commentaries to the Documents), a title that obviously imitates the one of Zhu Xi’s own commentary on the Odes (Wang 1982: 224; Zhu 1980: 58.3a–4b).9 The Zhuzi yulei confirms this detail (Zhu 1986: [117] 2833), and Cai Shen himself says in his own preface that his master ordered him to write this commentary. In fact, chapter 65 of Zhu Xi’s Collected Writings is made up of general comments on the Documents as well as of commentaries on the chapters mentioned above. Qian Mu speculates that these are corrections that Zhu Xi made on Cai Shen’s draft, but this is, of course, mere speculation (Qian 1986: 1290). There are some hints as to the possibility that Zhu Xi may have approached other students of his to finish his commentary on the Documents as well, but none seems to be conclusive (Qian 1986: 1292–1293). In the end, the reader should be aware that Cai Shen probably did get  See the Letter in response to Xie Chengzhi 謝成之, in which Zhu Xi hopes that a commentary on the Documents could be written, in imitation of the Shi ji zhuan, by a friend who probably was Cai Shen (s. 58.4a). 9

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Zhu Xi’s order to write a commentary to the Documents because the master never really wanted to do this himself. Yet, it is also clear that the final product was Cai Shen’s own commentary, so that in some places it deviated from the ideas that Zhu Xi himself supported.

2.4 Zhu Xi and the Spring and Autumn Annals There is no commentary on the Spring and Autumn Annals by Zhu Xi. As he stated himself at the age of 61, his father liked the Zuozhuan 左傳 (Commentary of Zuo [Qiuming]/Zuo Commentary), and every evening before going to bed he would finish one roll (juan 卷) of this text. So even before Zhu Xi went to school, it is manifest that he was familiar with the Zuo Commentary. When he was an adult he listened to what masters had to say about the Annals, but he never achieved something about it that he believed in his own heart. Therefore, he himself did not dare to write a single word about the text itself. He just had some feelings about its general ideas on the great relations of ruler and subject, father and son. Only because Shao Yong, in his Book for Augustly and Supremely Ordering the World (Huangji jingshi shu 皇極經世書) listed the Annals together with the Changes, the Odes, and the Documents among the four books that emperors, kings and hegemons had to read, did Zhu Xi add a version of the Zuo Commentary in his new edition of the canonical scriptures (Shao 2017: [11.53] 1151). He did not feel the need to also print the Gongyang 公羊 and the Guliang 穀梁 commentaries as he thought that their differences with the Zuo Commentary were not important enough (Zhu 1980: [82] 22b–23a). Yet, until the end of his life he apparently considered the Annals too difficult to take they could not be read lightly. In one letter, he expressed the idea that the Annals was the last part in the program of a student (Zhu 1980 [39] 31a–33a). In the chapter devoted to the Annals in the Zhuzi yulei there are a great many passages that prove that Zhu Xi heavily relied on the interpretations of the Annals that Hu Anguo (1074–1138) had written a generation before him. In one passage, he said: Throughout my life I did not dare to explain the Spring and Autumn Annals. Whenever I had to do so I just clung to the explanations of Hu Wending 胡文定 [Anguo] in order to do my own explanation. Yet, in the end we are a thousand and some hundreds of years removed from [the age] of the sage. How should we know about the heart of the sage? (Zhu 1986: [83] 2150)

Hu Anguo stated, in his preface to the commentary on the Annals, that this canonical text constituted a central statute for the transmission of the heart-and-mind [of Confucius] beyond history (shiwai chuanxin zhi yaodian 史外傳心之要典). With this he alluded to the Chan 禪 tradition that since Tang times had spoken of the “transmission of the heart” or “dharma.” Zhu Xi apparently doubted the possibility of recognizing what Confucius wanted to do in his heart. He thought that the Annals were extremely difficult, so that only some major principles were obvious, such as

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“Executing rebellious subjects and punishing criminal sons, treating the middle states as interior and the barbarians as exterior, exalting the king and treating the hegemons lowly. Nothing else. What earlier Confucians had said, namely every single character bore a meaning, is not necessarily true” (Zhu 1986: [83] 2144). Interestingly, Zhu Xi also relied on the main principle that the Annals “honored China (zhuxia 諸夏) and treated the barbarians as exterior,” which Hu Anguo had strongly argued in his political discourse. He stated that, since the peace treaty with the Jurchen by Qin Gui 秦檜 (1090–1155), “scholars treated discussions about inner and outer as a taboo. With this the great meaning of the Annals fell into oblivion” (Zhu 1986: [83] 2175). Zhu also stated: There are people who explain the Spring and Autumn Annals by solely taking the dates as a sign for praise or blame. If there is an entry just for a season or a month, then they consider this to be blame; if there is an entry for a day, then they consider this to be praise. This is splitting hairs, and there is no sense and reason at all. As far as the explanations of Master Hu Wending are concerned, they are splitting hairs, but doing so according to sense and reason. Therefore it is worth reading them. (Zhu 1986: [83] 2146)

The next entry then is an example for a wrong reading of Hu Anguo. Still, the whole chapter seems to display such a great respect for Hu Anguo that readers get the impression that Zhu Xi did not want to provide a commentary of the Annals because he thought that he would not have been able to do it better than his predecessor. A student asked Zhu why he had not yet made explanations of two books on Rites10 and on the Annals, whereupon Zhu Xi answered: The Spring and Autumn Annals was about real affairs of that time. Confucius wrote them on bamboo strips. Confucians of later ages did not arrive [at that conclusion], and so everyone started to guess [what Master Kong meant], transmitting them according to his own ideas. This is exactly what Hengqu 橫渠 [Zhang Zai 張載] called: ‘Since they dealt with it without having understood its principle and without having a fine understanding of their meaning, much of their explanations is to the hair.’ That is correct. Only Yichuan 伊川 [Cheng Yi] got his [Confucius’] intention when he said that they are the ‘great law to order one’s age’ (jingshi zhi dafa 經世之大法).11 Yet [in his commentary] there are extremely many things that are either not settled or inappropriate; they include problematic passages and prejudices. It is better to preserve and make use of the edition by Hu Wending [Anguo]. If one, when looking at [the Annals] later on with this help, still does not completely get [the correct meaning], it will still not be far away [from the truth], although not precisely to the point. (Zhu 1986: [83] 2175–76)

One interesting feature about Zhu Xi’s comments on the Zuo Commentary is that they reflect the critical spirit of his times, just as do his remarks on Kong Anguo’s commentary on the Documents or his attack on the small prefaces of the Odes. Lin Huangzhong 林黃中 (Li 栗)12 remarked that the famous “the superior man said”  Maybe this refers to the Liji and the Zhouli since late in his life Zhu Xi started to write a long commentary on the Yili which was, however, also to include chapters from the Liji. See below. 11  As is well-known the expression jingshi 經世 which is first used in the second chapter of the Zhuangzi may also be interpreted as throughout all ages. 12  Lin Li was one of the major opponents of Zhu Xi (see Tuotuo et al. 1985: [47] 690, [255] 11978, [255] 12026–32, [434] 12890). Here, however, they are in total agreement. 10

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(junzi yue 君子曰) entries in the Zuo Commentary had been written by the Han scholar Liu Xin 劉歆. He then asked Zhu Xi what he thought about Master Hu’s idea that the Rites of Zhou had also been written by Liu Xin, an idea which was famously taken up in the nineteenth century by the reformist new text movement.13 Zhu Xi answered that he thought that those “superior man said” statements in the Zuo Commentary indeed often did not make sense at all. He also criticized statements that were ascribed to Confucius in the Zuo Commentary as weird and meaningless (Zhu 1986: [83] 2150–51). Altogether, there are too many passages in the Zhuzi yulei discussing Hu Anguo to be all enumerated here. Yet the general impression the reader gets is that Zhu Xi did indeed prefer his Annals’ explanations over all others, although he in the end also found many places where he harboured differing ideas. Hu’s general interpretation was correct, but it was “too deep” (Zhu 1986: [55] 1319), and there were many details needing to be corrected, an enterprise that Zhu Xi in the end did not undertake. Maybe this is due to the fact that it seems that at the end of his life Zhu Xi more and more lost his confidence in other people’s interpretations of the Annals. When asked about “the explanations of the various Chunqiu specialists,” he answered: “I cannot fully trust them. As for the Annals of Hu Wending, I also cannot trust him. Can I know that the innermost thoughts of the sage are to be explained like this or not? … With the exception of the possibility that the soul of Confucius would come back in person to explain it, I do not [see any way] to know how it was.” (Zhu 1986: [83] 2155). It is clear that Zhu Xi preferred the Zuo Commentary over the Gongyang and Guliang commentaries, because he liked a historical approach to the text more than the attempt to get some special meaning out of every single detail that was mentioned in the Annals. Yet, he also criticized the Zuo Commentary since it “discussed what was right or wrong only according to the categories of success and failure, without going to its roots in the correctness of what was right and reasonable (yili zhi zheng 義理之正). It even so happened that the Zuo Commentary blamed someone for dying for his principles” (Zhu 1986: [83] 2149). Zhu Xi told Lü Zuqian, who was a great specialist of the Zuo Commentary, that it was better to read the Analects or Mengzi than the Zuo Commentary, clearly because it had more moral value (Zhu 1986: [83] 2150). All this is probably the reason why, instead of starting a project with the aim of writing the final commentary on the Annals, he instead preferred to continue the approach that had been started by Shao Yong with his Huangji jingshi shu and continued by Hu Yin 胡寅 (1098–1156) and Hu Hong, who both had written moral commentaries to periods of history that had not been included in the Chunqiu. With his Dushi guanjian 讀史管見 (Limited Insights while Reading History), Hu Yin 胡寅 (1098–1156) added “what was right and reasonable” to Sima Guang’s Zizhi tongjian 資治通鑑 (Penetrating Mirror for the Aid in Government), and in his Huangwang daji 皇王大紀 (Great Annals of Exalted One’s  Maybe this Master Hu is not just Hu Anguo but the whole Hu family. See Hu (1987: 253–54 and 259). Ma (1986: 1507C) quotes Hu Yin with this opinion. Compare van Ess (2003: 261). 13

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and Kings), Hu Hong included moral essays on the sense of ancient history from its very beginnings up to the time of Mengzi. Unlike so many others embarking on the project to comment on the Annals in order to find out what Confucius wanted to say, Zhu Xi followed Hu Yin’s approach of providing a moral reading of the Zizhi tongjian. This is probably the reason why the Tongjian gangmu 通鑑綱目 (Outline and Details of the Penetrating Mirror), which heavily relied on Hu Yin’s interpretations, came into being: Zhu Xi himself wanted to give meaning to history and not just stay with guesswork about what Confucius could have meant when writing history. When asked by Cai Shen whether there was an intention or not behind his making the Outline and Details of the Penetrating Mirror, and whether the sage did not have a clear intention when writing the Chunqiu, Zhu Xi answered: “Although the sage did have an intention, today it cannot be known. It is not proper to make up explanations for it.” (Zhu 1986: [125] 2993). Although he never finished the Outline and Details himself, Zhu Xi imitated Confucius and by this still tried to be a sage.

2.5 Zhu Xi and the Rites Zhu Xi was not just a philosopher who was interested in moral principles; he also thought that there was a practical aspect to everything he taught his students. The main aim of this practical aspect was to provide guidance for correct behavior in life and the main tool to do this was the rites, or maybe better, the “rules for proper behavior.” Throughout Zhu Xi’s writings, the reader will feel that Zhu Xi believed that the old rites that regulated life in ancient times were lost and had to be reconstituted on the basis of the canonical texts of the past. With luck, some practices were transmitted among the common people, but by and large it was very difficult to know what was really old. So, although Zhu Xi also developed a set of family rituals (jiali 家禮),14 the canonical scriptures provided the only safe background against which Zhu Xi could attempt to breathe new life into habits that had either become extinct or supplanted by practices of Buddhists and Daoists. Zhu Xi quite clearly understood that it was, for example, difficult to prevent one’s relatives from burying their parents using Buddhist or Daoist rituals, although he was strictly opposed to their practice of burning the corpse, because that meant to destroy the dead body, which was forbidden by Confucian moral law (Zhu 1986: [89] 2281). Buddhism and Daoism provided services that Confucian teachers could not give. Qian Mu collected a great number of statements made by Zhu Xi that show how he became increasingly aware of the fact that he had to do something about the general decline of rites. That feeling finally culminated in the attempt, collectively with his students, to create a book with all his insights into the issue of rites at end of his life, after the compilation of the Tongjian gangmu (Qian 1986: 1330). Several

 They are not dealt with here since they are not directly related to Zhu Xi’s canonical studies. The interested reader is referred to Qian (1986: 1345–54). 14

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times he desperately expressed his feeling that he himself would not be able to accomplish this task since death was approaching (Qian 1986: 1331–32). The day before his death Zhu Xi wrote two letters in which he expressed his concern about that book on rites, that apparently was almost complete (Qian 1986: 1334). Yet, according to the History of the Song (Songshi 宋史), he died before he could accomplish this task (Tuotuo et al. 1985: [162] 2424). Before his death he wrote a text called “A Note Begging to Restore the Three Ritual [Texts]” (Qi xiu san liu zhazi 乞 修三禮劄子), which now precedes his “Penetrating Explanations of the Scripture and Commentaries to the Ceremonies and Rites” (Yili jingzhuan tongjie 儀禮經傳 通解). Here he expresses his distress about the fact that, after the destruction of scholarship by the Qin dynasty, rites and music fell into decay. The only place where knowledge on them was preserved was the three rites scriptures, among which he considered the “Offices of Zhou” Zhouguan to have been the “Outline of Rites” (Li zhi gangling 禮之綱領), while the “Ceremonial Rites” (Yili) was the canonical scripture itself that contained ceremonial models, the measures, and numbers. Chapters such as the “Special Sacrificial Victims for the Sacrifice in the Suburb” (Jiaote sheng 郊特牲) and the “Right Meaning of the Capping Ceremony” (Guanyi 冠義) of the Notes on the Rites served as commentaries to this. Wang Anshi had mistakenly removed the Ceremonial Rites from the curricula. Together with some students, Zhu Xi himself wanted to redress this wrong and wanted to take the Ceremonial Rites as the canon, while attaching chapters from the Notes on the Rites and texts from other scriptures and histories as additions. Yet, since he did not have anyone at home to make a transcript and since many of his students had left, he was not able to finish his work. So he asked for imperial help to accomplish this last task of his life (Zhu 2002: [2] 25–26). After his death, his son added that Heaven did not grant Zhu Xi enough time to fulfill what he had so much wished to do. Zhu Xi clearly saw the Ceremonial Rites as the main scripture. This is why he gave his commentary a title that started with the two words yi and li, although it is not quite clear whether this should be translated as the name Ceremonial Rites or as “Ceremonies” (yi) (from the Yili) and “Rites” (li) from the Liji and the Zhouli. The latter seems plausible since we find in Zhu’s commentary texts from both canonical texts. His “Table of Contents” (Zhu 2002: [2] 27–40) starts out with a look at the catalogue of the imperial library of the Han, the “Hanshu yiwen zhi 漢書藝文誌” (Treatise on Literature of the Documents of the Han) and its commentaries, which serve as a basis for his own decision on which chapters of the three scriptures on rites to include in his own compilation. He then made use of Jia Gongyan’s discussion of the correct chapter sequence for the Ceremonial Rites, and finally proceeded to his own much more inclusive mix of chapters from the different Rites texts. Although he started out with the text of the first chapter of the Yili on the manhood ceremony, he took the liberty to change its sequence wherever he believed it to be necessary. Interestingly, at the end, he added a short paragraph on the equivalent ceremony for girls that is to be found in the Liji chapter Zaji 雜記 (Ruan 1980: 1569C, Zhu 2002: 70). This shows that it is not the idea of a philologically correct text, but the practical applicability of it for the purpose of conducting rites that stood behind his efforts. As a sequel to the Ceremonial Rites’ chapter, Zhu Xi and his

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students then added the short chapter on the right meaning of the manhood ceremony as the second part of this first chapter, filling it with various passages from such texts as the Kongzi jiayu 孔子家語 (Family Words of Confucius), the Notes on the Rites or the Zuo Commentary (Zhu 2002: 71–80). The same is then done with other family rituals, such as marriage or the proper arrangements for the household, for which the team constructed chapters out of various different ancient sources themselves (Zhu 2002: 32, 179–229). Next to the family rituals, we find “village rituals,” also consisting of a mixture of chapters from the Ceremonial Rites, the Notes on the Rites and other sources, and fifteen chapters under the heading of “rituals for studying” (xue li 學禮). Beside such practical texts as the “duties of disciples” (Dizi zhi 弟子職), this section also includes the Zhongyong 中庸 (Middle Equilibrium) and the Daxue 大學 (Great Learning) chapters from the Notes on the Rites as well as the chapter on teachers (baofu 保傅) from the Da Dai Liji 大戴禮 記 (Notes on the Rites by the Elder Dai). The last section of the ancient table of contents for Zhu Xi’s rites compendium is called “rituals for the state” (bangguo li 邦國禮). However, later hands have added many more chapters, ones that Zhu Xi apparently could not take care of before he died. For example, we find a very long section on mourning rites that his table of contents did not speak of. When the Yili jingzhuan tongjie was first printed in 1217, it included 37 juan (Zhu 2002 [2]: 3). In addition to five juan for the family rituals, three juan for the village rituals, eleven juan for learning and four juan for the state that the table of contents had spoken of, there were also fourteen juan of “rituals for audiences at court” (wangchao li 王朝禮) that had been compiled by Zhu Xi’s students. Huang Gan 黃幹 (1152–1221) had started to put down the mourning and sacrificial rites, but died too early to finish his work. The complete text with 66 juan was only printed in 1231 (Zhu 2002 [2]: 3).

3 Conclusion While Zhu Xi certainly is best known for his commentary on the Four Books, and he clearly thought that these were the main texts students should be instructed in, his role as an interpreter of and commentator on the five canonical scriptures also was of paramount importance. With regard to all these texts, his position changed over the years. As far as the Changes were concerned, he redirected his readers’ interest to their function as a divinization text, redressing a tradition that had stressed textual exegesis too much. His studies of the Odes led him to the very modern conclusion that the purely moral interpretation of the traditional Mao/Zheng orthodoxy had gone too far, and that authors had to be taken into consideration who had no moral intentions, but who had sometimes been singing and writing for their own pleasure. Thus, in the final version of his Odes commentary, he dropped the old prefaces altogether. Zhu Xi never wrote a commentary on the Documents, but instead, at the end of his life, charged his student Cai Shen with the task to do so. Although in other works he still strongly relied on such old text chapters of the Documents as

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“The Counsels of the Great Yu” chapter, he voiced skepticism as far as other old text chapters and the prefaces to the individual chapters were concerned, challenging the recension of Kong Anguo. While Zhu was not fully convinced by all of Hu Anguo’s interpretations of the Spring and Autumn Annals he refrained from commenting on the Annals too much, since he, on the one hand, respected what Hu Anguo had done and, on the other hand, did not really believe in the possibility to fully find out what Confucius had in mind when he produced that text. As Lü Zuqian, he was extremely familiar with the Zuo Commentary, but he criticized it for having failed to provide a moral reading of the history of the Spring and Autumn period. As a result, in the field of history, he preferred to write a moral commentary on Sima Guang’s Zizhi tongjian. Only too late in his life did Zhu Xi start to think of the necessity to provide a new commentary on the ancient scriptures on Rites. So this book was not printed during his life time. Yet, this did not prevent his ideas on the Rites to rise to the position of orthodoxy within a few decades. Western sinology, even until today, heavily relies on Zhu Xi’s interpretations of the canonical scriptures. When the Jesuits, beginning with the end of the sixteenth century, arrived at China’s coasts, they were taught his understanding by their Chinese teachers, friends, and disciples. From this source, then, Zhu Xi’s ideas were ultimately brought to the attention of philosophers in Europe. Finally, despite the strong influence that the evidential scholarship movement of the Qing started to exert, when the first scholarly annotated complete translations into European languages were made by such scholars as Séraphin Couvreur or James Legge, Zhu Xi still remained the final authority in many cases of doubt. It is therefore hard to overestimate the importance of what Confucian scholarship has gained, thanks to his efforts.

References Adler, Joseph. 1984. “Divination and Philosophy: Chu Hsi’s Understanding of the I-ching.” Ph.D. Diss., University of California Santa Barbara. Ann Arbor: UMI Dissertations. (Probably still the best monographic work on Zhu Xi’s understanding of the Yijing in the English language.) Ban, Gu 班固. 1962. The Documents of the Han 漢書. Beijing 北京: Zhonghua shuju 中華書局. Hon, Tze-Ki. 2000. “Eremitism, Sagehood, and Public Service: The Zhouyi Kouyi of Hu Yuan.” Monumenta Serica 48: 67–92. ———. 2005. The Yijing and Chinese Politics: Classical Commentary and Literary Activism in the Northern Song Period (960–1127). Albany: SUNY. (Important survey of political use that has been made of the Yijing in Song times.) Hu, Hong 胡宏. 1987. Collected Works of Hu Hong 胡宏集. Beijing 北京: Zhonghua shuju 中華 書局. Legge, James. 1983. The She King or Book of Poetry, vol. 4 of The Chinese Classics. Taipei: Southern Materials Center. Ma, Duanlin 馬端臨. 1986. Thorough Enquiry into Literary Materials 文獻通考. Beijing 北京: Zhonghua shuju 中華書局. Mittag, Achim. 1993a. “Change in Shijing Exegesis: Some Notes on the Rediscovery of the Musical Aspect of the ‘Odes’ in the Song Period.” T’oung Pao 79: 197–224.

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———. 1993b. Shijing Studies in Song Times (960–1279). Preliminary Steps to a Reevaluation of Canonical Erudition of the Song (Das Shi-Jing Studium in der Song-Zeit (960–1279). Vorstufen zu einer Neubetrachtung der Song-Klassikergelehrsamkeit). Nördlingen: Fritz Steinmeier. (Very insightful analysis of the different stages of Zhu Xi’s scholarship on the Shijing.) Pi, Xirui 皮錫瑞. 1959 and 1989. History of Canonical Studies 經學歷史, with a preface by Zhou Yutong 周予同. Beijing 北京: Zhonghua shuju 中華書局 (originally published in 1928). (Classical overview of traditional Chinese canonical studies). Qian, Mu 錢穆. 1986. Judgements on the New Erudition of Master Zhu 朱子新學案. Chengdu 成 都: Ba Shu shushe 巴蜀出版社 (originally published Taipei 1971). (Monumental assessment of all aspects of Zhu Xi’s scholarship with some important articles on his understanding of each individual canonical scripture.) Ruan, Yuan 阮元. 1980. The Thirteen Canonical Scriptures with Comnmentaries and Subcommentaries [of the Han and Tang] 十三經注疏. Beijing 北京: Zhonghua shuju 中華 書局. Schirokauer, Conrad. 1986. “Chu Hsi and Hu Hung.” In Chan Wing-tsit, ed., Chu Hsi and Neo-­ Confucianism. Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press. Shao, Yong 邵雍. 2017. Book for Augustly and Supremely Ordering the World 皇極經世書. Shanghai 上海: Shanghai guji chubanshe 上海古籍出版社. Smith, Kidder Jr., Joseph A. Adler, Peter K. Bol, and Don J. Wyatt. 1990. Sung Dynasty Uses of the I-ching. Princeton: Princeton University Press. (Together with Hon 2000 the standard work on Song dynasty understanding of the Yijing.) Song, Dingzong 宋鼎宗. 1979. The Learning of Master Hu [Anguo] on the Annals Chunqiu 春 秋胡氏學. Tainan 臺南: Youning chubanshe 友寧出版社. (Monography specializing on all aspects of the Chunqiu commentary by Hu Anguo.) Tuotuo 脫脫 et al., eds. 1985. History of the Song 宋史. Beijing 北京: Zhonghua shuju 中華書局. van Ess, Hans. 2003. From Cheng Yi to Zhu Xi: The Learning of the Right Way in the Transmission of the Hu Family (Von Ch’eng I zu Chu Hsi: Die Lehre vom Rechten Weg in der Überlieferung der Familie Hu). Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz. (German language study of the transmission of the works of the Cheng brothers to Zhu Xi by Hu Anguo, Hu Yin and Hu Hong.) Wang, Maohong 王懋竑. 1982. Chronological Curriculum Vitae of Zhu Xi 朱子年譜. Taipei 臺北: Shangwu yinshu guan 商務印書館. Wood, Alan. 1995. Limits to Autocracy: From Sung Neo-Confucianism to a Doctrine of Political Rights. Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press. (Only book specializing on Chunqiu scholarship during the Song in the English language.) Zhu, Xi 朱熹. 1980. Collected Works of Master Zhu Wengong [Xi] 朱文公文集. Taipei 臺北: Shangwu yinshu guan 商務印書館. ———. 1983. Sishu zhangju jizhu 四書章句集注. Beijing 北京: Zhonghua shuju 中華書局. ———. 1986. Zhuzi yulei 朱子語類. Beijing 北京: Zhonghua shuju 中華書局. ———. 2002. Zhuzi quanshu 朱子全書, edited by Zhu Jieren 朱傑人, Yan Zuozhi 嚴佐之, and Liu Yongxiang 劉永翔. Shanghai 上海: Shanghai guji chubanshe 上海古籍出版社and Anhui jiaoyu chubanshe 安徽教育出版社. ———. 2009. Zhouyi benyi 周易本義, edited by Liao Mingchun 廖名春. Beijing 北京: Zhonghua shuju 中華書局. (Compare the edition in Zhu 2002, edited by Wang Tie 王鐵). Hans van Ess is a professor of sinology at the Department of Asian Studies of LMU Munich. Besides a focus on early Chinese historical writing and on Central Asian history, his research interests include the study of early Confucianism as well as its later developments in the time of the Song and Ming dynasties. Among other works, he has written a long monograph on the differences between the Shiji and the Hanshu as well as a study of the works of the Hu family (Hu Anguo (1074–1138), Hu Yin (1098–1156), and Hu Hong (1105–1161) from Hunan and a translation of Hu Hong’s Knowing Words (Zhiyan) into the German language.  

Part II

Zhu Xi in the Chinese Confucian Tradition

Chapter 6

Zhu Xi and Pre-Qin Confucianism Don J. Wyatt

1 Introduction Unavoidable in any deliberation on or appreciation of the commanding philosophical influence of Zhu Xi 朱熹 (1130–1200) is an inevitable consideration of his role as a synthesizer. The preeminence of Zhu Xi’s stature as the individual who drew together all of the best features of the Confucian philosophical tradition is undisputed. Moreover, even within the wide parameters of traditional Chinese philosophy as a whole, arguably aside from Han Feizi 韓非子 (c. 280–233 BCE), who distilled for posterity the most comprehensive version of the tradition we now recognize as Legalism, Zhu Xi as a synthesizer is without peers. However, in terms of its ethical agenda and in other ways, Legalism is unquestionably a philosophy of much narrower scope than Confucianism. Therefore, it is perhaps more fitting that we should assess Zhu Xi’s achievement in this capacity in relation to that attained by the great synthesizers of entirely different traditions in thought, such as the Italian Dominican friar and priest Thomas Aquinas (1225–1274). Just as Aquinas has left us the clearest and most representative version of Catholicism from its earlier namesake, Zhu has performed the same service by bequeathing Neo-Confucianism to us from the welter of ideas and concepts that was once pre-Qin Confucianism. Yet, although we judge him to be unexcelled in his effort to synthesize Confucianism, Zhu Xi himself would not likely have accepted our appraisal of him. Nor would he have believed that he was acting in either a novel or innovative way. Zhu Xi saw his own endeavor as hardly more than an emulation of the efforts of those masters within the tradition prior to the political unification of China by the Qin dynasty (221–206 BCE) that he most admired. Foremost among them was certainly Kongzi 孔子 (551–479 BCE) (hereafter Confucius), based on his received D. J. Wyatt (*) Department of History, Middlebury College, Middlebury, VT, USA e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2020 K.-c. Ng, Y. Huang (eds.), Dao Companion to ZHU Xi’s Philosophy, Dao Companions to Chinese Philosophy 13, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-29175-4_6

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legacy in the Analects (Lunyu 論語). However, also included among the paragons that Zhu extolled and considered to one extent or another worthy of emulation were the four successors to Confucius: Zengzi 曾子 (c. 505–435  BCE); Zisi 子思 (c. 492–421 BCE or, alternatively, c. 483–402 BCE); Mengzi 孟子 (c. 370–c. 290 BCE) [hereafter Mencius]; and Xunzi 荀子 (c. 300–c. 230 BCE). While revering Zengzi and Zisi as much for their fortuitous personal interaction with Confucius as much as for the texts with which he associated them, Zhu principally derived his reverence for Mencius and Xunzi expressly from and through his assiduous study and intimate familiarity with their namesake texts. Whether it is in fact true or not, according to Zhu’s belief, after Confucius, each philosopher in succession had sought to draw together the thinking of each of the others preceding him. In this way, we should surely expect Zhu Xi to have found inspiration for his own undertaking in what he took to be theirs, and we should wonder little about why he held his own project to be more or less consonant with each of the programs mounted by those philosophers who went before him. Yet, even inasmuch as it may lead to coalescence, to synthesize is also by definition an exercise in selectivity. Even while adopting the premises, arguments, and conclusions of others, synthesizing them nonetheless also means a refusal to do so wholesale. Therefore, we should not be surprised that even while he embraced many of the ideas and concepts of his pre-Qin intellectual forbearers, Zhu Xi nevertheless failed to accept others. There is also an unevenness evident in Zhu’s synthesizing, for he understandably found the views of Confucius, Zengzi, Zisi, Mencius, and Xunzi each to be vested with different orders of moral authority. Nonetheless, there can be no disputing that there was also a kind of ecology of equivalency operative in his reception of the views of his predecessors. Zhu regarded the moral truth he sought to be undiscoverable without contributions from them all. Yet, what remains most important is that Zhu Xi regarded each thinker as having espoused valuable views on which to base his own philosophy, so that he consequently drew from the fund of wisdom comprising contentions originally attributable to each of them. What follows below is a survey of the major ideas and concepts that Zhu Xi inherited from those predecessors.

2 Confucius, Ritual (Li 禮), and Humaneness (Ren 仁) For Zhu Xi, Confucius was the most esteemed of all human influences. His reverence for his intellectual progenitor stems as much from his appreciation for the man himself as from his deference to history in the form of precedent. The appeal of history as precedent has characterized the methodologies of most traditional Chinese thinkers; in this connection, Zhu Xi was no exception. Indeed, as the modern scholar Huang Siu-chi has stated, “Zhu Xi would strongly argue that there is no thought or philosophy except in historical context and that to study what has happened in the past is to enlighten us in understanding why such events occurred.”

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Huang further contends that the commitment of Zhu Xi to scrutinizing and explicating ancient texts stands as proof of his investment in history as precedent. Moreover, like philosophers within the Chinese tradition both before and after him, Zhu Xi found this great passion for researching history as precedent to have been first evinced by none other than Confucius (Huang 1999: 139). Zhu also believed that Confucius, by his own example, had conferred upon us the most reliable methodology for the pursuit of that research. Consequently, we find Zhu Xi himself to have consciously been, much as Confucius had described himself, “a transmitter rather than a creator” of tradition (Analects 7.1). Also like Confucius, Zhu Xi believed no concept either better denoted or more fully captured the fundamental essence of precedent than ritual (li 禮). To his mind, the rites—or the ritual acts that collectively constitute them—embody precedent and, through the proper performance of the former, the latter itself becomes revisited, reenacted, and thereby available for offering guidance in the present. The rites therefore are, in summation, the formal expressions of precedent. However, simultaneously, as Daniel Gardner has commented, “For Zhu Xi, ritual is necessarily more than form alone. Only when the appropriate spirit is tied to the form does ritual have meaning” (Gardner 2003: 94). In order to illustrate this cardinal precept, Gardner turns to the example of ritual and music, as drawn from Analects 17.11: The Master said, “Ritual, ritual”: does it mean nothing more than jade and silk? “Music, music”: does it mean nothing more than bells and drums? (Gardner 2003: 94)

According to Gardner, “In Zhu’s reading, ritual and music must be sustained by an inner spirit: the feeling of reverence and the feeling of harmony. It is these feelings that, in his words are ‘fundamental’ to the performance; that is, the performance rests on them. Indeed the performance of them is nothing more than the outward expression of these inner feelings” (Gardner 2003: 95). As the foregoing quotation by illustration conveys, neither ritual itself nor an activity so sublimely favored by Confucius with which it is coupled as the performance of music is to be carried out in a pro forma manner—that is to say, by simply going through the motions. Form alone is never enough; it must be grounded in the substance of proper attitudes. Similarly, as Kirill O. Thompson contends, “Zhu Xi also notes the dryness of living by the letter but lacking in spirit. He in fact critiques those who treat ritual conduct as the be-all and end-all and have forgotten that the rituals only have value as providing the standard means to express appropriate respect and love (ren 仁) and thus to extend the way” (Thompson 2015: 164). We therefore can see that Zhu Xi’s complaints with respect to the practice of the rites in his day arose to become tantamount to those lodged by Confucius a millennium and a half earlier. In the view of both philosophers, in the execution of ritual practice, form had risen to dominance over substance. In Zhu’s view, this tension was denoted by the tandem terms “substance” (zhi 質) and “ornamentation” or “refinement” (wen 文). The former was, according to Gardner’s description, “the feelings of reverence and grief that inform ritual practice” and the latter was “the details of ritual observance” (Gardner 2003: 103). Zhu’s belief was that these two

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must both be present but, nonetheless, always in a kind of salubrious sequence— that is, one in which substance leads and form follows. This observation returns us to the inspirational awe with which Zhu Xi regarded Confucius as a paradigmatic exemplar. Zhu was absolutely convinced that the “superior man” (junzi 君子), just as Confucius had, harmonizes substance and refinement within his very person. Furthermore, in Zhu’s estimation, Confucius had surpassed all others not merely in his embodiment of the two concepts but also in his fidelity to substance over form in ritual practice. Moreover, our revisiting of the image of Confucius as exemplar, while we concurrently return to the rites as authentically practiced, brings us to the most exalted of the concepts inherited by Zhu Xi from Confucius—namely, “benevolence” or “humaneness” or “true goodness” or simply “Goodness” (ren) (Thompson 2016: 606). No matter how it is translated, by his use of ren, Confucius intended to convey that we should cherish other people with utmost affection, treat them at all times courteously, and strive to assist them whenever they are in need. As an old ethical notion first established philosophically by Confucius, humaneness is the natural extension of ritual duly practiced, and Zhu Xi dutifully accepted it as such. Therefore, we see that the means of ritual as the only legitimate pathway toward the ends of humaneness matters greatly. Or, to state the matter another way, as Herbert Fingarette cogently contends, “[R]en develops only so far as li develops; it is the shaping of oneself in li” (Fingarette 1972: 48). Still, while it is provocative and hardly inaccurate, to express the relationship between ritual and humaneness in such stark terms as Fingarette has done risks stripping it of the nuance and sophistication with which Zhu Xi beheld it. Whereas ritual is assuredly a precondition for its incipient appearance, humaneness itself as an expressed virtue is by no means constrained by its catalyst. As is often observed, despite the many famous descriptions he affords us of this core virtue, Confucius nowhere in the Analects actually endeavors to define humaneness; even less then should we expect him to have tried to define its boundaries. In explicating ren, we instead find him repeatedly limiting himself exclusively to the descriptive, and occasionally only quite impressionistically so. As for its actualization in practice, in at least a few instances, Confucius remarked on ren as being that disposition as well as deportment that eschews all evil. Confucius indeed states that he who exemplifies humaneness is at all times “free of bad intentions,” incapable of contravening what is humane “even for the amount of time required to finish a meal,” and is incapable of tolerating that which is not humane “being associated with his person” (Analects 4.4, 4.5, 4.6). Thereby, ren necessarily extends beyond the purview of its possessor and affects others in intangible ways, so that that we can expect it to transcend the rites and their performance in and of themselves. According to Daniel Gardner, “To Zhu, the man who subdues selfish desires and returns to ritual will practice true goodness in everything he does and consequently will receive recognition by one and all” (Gardner 2003: 87). In a quite similar vein, Stephen Angle remarks that, “Selfish motives cannot serve as a foundation for the kind of broad moral improvement that would lead to robust stability and prosperity” (Angle 2015: 262). Still, whereas the

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return to ritual is noble, good, and necessary, such a recommitment nonetheless might remain entirely internalized to the person who is undertaking it, involving no externalization or relationality. By contrast, in the estimation of Zhu Xi, the practice of ren inevitably and unavoidably solicits recognition by those apart from oneself. Moreover, despite its uncommonness, for someone to be unaccomplished in the finer points of ritual conduct and still conditionally approach being ren is quite possible. The most familiar example of such a person that Confucius referred to was the historical personage Guan Zhong 管仲 (c. 720–645 BCE), the fabled minister of state of Qi 齊 who is sometimes arguably even regarded as the godfather of Legalism. Guan is mentioned more than once by Confucius as having evinced ren by virtue of the benefits that his practical resourcefulness bestowed upon society at large, despite his inattention to and even disregard for ritual niceties (Analects 3.22, 14.9, 14.10, 14.16, 14.17; Thompson 2016: 610). Stephen Angle, on the one hand, comments on Zhu Xi’s insistence that we recognize the difference between a person like Guan Zhong and one who is truly humane (Angle 2015: 262). On the other hand, in making the point that humanness as a virtue is still expressible by and verifiable in those who are not humane, Angle quotes Zhu himself, who wrote: “Although Guan Zhong cannot be called a humane person, his own benefit reached [and benefited, in turn] the people, thus [we can call this] the effects of humaneness (ren zhi gong 仁 之功)” (Zhu 1987: 104–5; Angle 2015: 262). Therefore, Zhu Xi inherited, adopted, and adapted an understanding of the interrelationship between humaneness and ritual. Clearly, he viewed that interrelationship as being a subtler and more complex one than Fingarette has stipulated. In tempering Fingarette’s assertion at least in its extremeness, if not outright rebutting it, we simply err if we take the degree of one’s facility in ritual to portend the limits of one’s humaneness. Ren, in this respect as well as others, is superordinate and li is subordinate. The most succinct and yet developed articulation of Zhu Xi’s reflections on the significance of ren as an ethical principle initiated by Confucius exists in the form of a relatively short essay entitled the Treatise on Humaneness (Renshuo 仁說) (Liu 2009: 384–86; Meng 2015: 284, 292; Klancer 2015: 129; Thompson 2016: 620–23). This work is intrinsically interesting because it so clearly evinces Zhu Xi’s efforts to insert or interject his own paramount precept of li 理 (principle, pattern, or reason) into—from his standpoint—any correct reading of the Analects. Zhu employed the same tactic liberally in his commentary to that all-important text (Tiwald and Van Norden 2014: 195, 197–98, 200–203). Yet, in his Treatise on Humaneness in particular, we discover such exemplifying statements as the following: The study of this teaching of the school of Confucius is that means whereby we must exert anxious and unflagging effort in seeking to acquire humaneness. Regarding this pursuit, as was once said [by Confucius], it is “to constrain oneself and return to ritual is to be humane.” This is to say that if you are capable of overcoming your selfishness and you return to the principle of Heaven, then there will be no place in which the substance of your heart-mind is not present and nowhere in which its function is not operative. (Zhu 1985–1991: [13] 466; Chan 1963: 594)

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D. J. Wyatt 此孔門之教, 所以必使學者, 汲汲於求仁也。其言有曰:「克己復禮爲仁。」言能 克去己私, 復乎天理, 則此心之體無不在、而此心之用無不行也。

The quoted and frequently cited expression within the above passage is from Analects 12.1, wherein the favorite among the disciples of Confucius, Yan Hui 顏 回 (c. 521–481 BCE), famously queries the Master about ren. In response, Confucius stresses, above all else, self-reliance in one’s progress toward the actualization of this virtue, arguing for a kind of conscientious restraint in all things that necessarily confers moral leadership upon oneself in the project of effecting humaneness in the world. Elsewhere, in the Classified Conversations of Master Zhu (Zhuzi yulei 朱子語 類), when questioned by one of his own students, Zhu Xi not only concluded by subjecting this very same pivotal expression to analysis but also by offering us definitively his views on the profound integrative power of the return to abiding in li (ritual). Upon being asked initially what “the dregs” (zhazi 渣滓) are, Zhu Xi responds: “The dregs” are those human desires that are of selfish intent. The unity of Heaven and Earth in one entity itself may be likened to those who compose the elite among morally reflective persons. “The dregs” consist of the persistence of human desires that are of selfish intent. Humankind together with Heaven and Earth originally formed a single body, and it is only owing to the ceaselessness of these dregs that a separation ever arose. If not for these dregs, then we would continue to exist in unity with Heaven and Earth. As for the statement “to constrain oneself and return to ritual is to be humane,” as individuated selves, we are the dregs but, in returning to ritual, we then become merged with Heaven and Earth as an indistinguishable entity. (Zhu 1986: [45] 1151) 渣滓是私意人欲。天地同體處, 如義理之精英。渣滓是私意人欲之不消者。人與 天地本一體, 只緣渣滓未去, 所以有間隔。若無渣滓, 便與天地同體。「克己復禮爲 仁, 」己是渣滓, 復禮便是天地同體處。

We see here beyond dispute that Zhu Xi felt compelled to infuse or interlace his requisite idea of li (principle or pattern)—in the former case as tianli 天理 (Heavenly principle) and in the latter as yili 義理 (moral reasoning)—creatively into the discourse on human developmental essentials that Confucius and his disciples had classically expressed. His aim seems to have been nothing less than that of bringing his own li (principle) effectively into as close a defining interrelationship with li (rites or ritual)—and especially the sublime state of ren as promoted by Confucius— as possible. Zhu undertook this project in a way that he believed would be readily interpretable by, as well as inarguably persuasive to, those of his own time.

3 Zengzi, Zisi, and Their Inspired Texts As what became the accepted lineage of orthodox transmission apprises us, of the pre-Qin intellectual forbearers of the Confucian (Ru 儒) school, aside from Confucius himself, Mencius was of course the most impactful on Zhu Xi and on posterity (Wilson 1995: 44, 47, 68, 79–82). However, before considering the

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i­ndispensable inheritance in thought that Zhu received from Mencius, let us first acknowledge and fleetingly account for the formative philosophical importance to Zhu Xi of two earlier individuals whose precise identities are known to us with starkly different degrees of certainty. On the one hand, Zengzi was a favored and very senior direct disciple of Confucius and yet, on the other hand, Zisi has been shown via modern research to have been either one of two individuals. One viable but less accepted prospect is Yuan Xian 原憲 (also known as Yuan Si 原思 and actually styled Zisi), who was one of the more reclusive direct followers of Confucius, with otherwise scant mention in the extant sources. Far more customary as the choice for Zisi, however, is Confucius’ grandson Kong Ji 孔伋, who is understandably regarded as having been one the youngest of his possible direct disciples (Csikszentmihalyi 2004: 95–97, 234). Notwithstanding the inconclusive identity of the latter, in these two men, Zengzi and Zisi, together with Mencius, we find substantiation within the received tradition for what qualifies as the fount from which all of the intellectual lineages of Confucianism thereafter sprung because Zengzi was reputedly the teacher of Kong Ji, and Kong Ji was in turn the teacher of Mencius. Zengzi and Zisi are conventionally attributed with having contributed texts of inestimable value to the Confucian heritage, with two of them in particular destined through Zhu Xi’s exertions to enter the classical canon as scriptural cornerstones of the Neo-Confucian tradition. Zhu Xi greatly admired Zengzi because he believed him to be the author of the Great Learning (Daxue 大學), whereas Zhu’s respect for Zisi stemmed principally from his deep appreciation for the seminal text entitled the Doctrine of the Mean (Zhongyong 中庸), which is customarily ascribed to him (Keenan 2011: 14–16, 22, 29–31). Although now separated out, reorganized, and incorporated as two of the Four Books (Sishu 四書) that Zhu Xi formally established in the year 1190, both the Great Learning and the Mean were originally chapters of the Record of Rites (Liji 禮記) of the Book of Rites (Lijing 禮經) (Gardner 2003: 2). Of the two men, Zhu Xi appears to have held Zengzi in higher regard than Zisi, despite what might have been the ties by blood of the latter man to Confucius himself (Keenan 2011: 14). Yet, we will likely never have any more than the scant information we already possess about Zengzi and Zisi as individuals. Instead, to our good fortune, the ways in which the text associated with each man informed the thinking of Zhu Xi are discernible with eminent clarity. However, our own insights into the matter can only begin with the realization that Zhu himself regarded the Great Learning and the Mean as tremendously contrasting texts. All evidence indicates that Zhu Xi regarded the Great Learning as the first among the Four Books to be read, for he believed it to be the “entrance gate to the path of virtue as one begins to learn” (chu xue ru de zhi men 初學入德之門) (Zhu 1965: [1] 1). Zhu Xi therefore considered the Great Learning to be a kind of primer with which one became deeply familiar, before subsequently moving on to encounter the Analects and the Mencius as the dual bases for a sound grounding in how to approach the Classics as a whole (Huang 1999: 139). So fixed did the primacy of the Great Learning become in the sequencing with which one should proceed that, as

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the late William Theodore de Bary states, the text “was provided with a special preface and commentary by Zhu Xi that he thought propaedeutic to any reading of the other classics included in the Four Books. Thus how one read the Analects itself was conditioned by Zhu’s own way of introducing us to ‘How to Read a Book’” (de Bary 2013: 75). The logic of Zhu Xi’s decision to designate the Great Learning as the first among the Four Books that one should read is reinforced by the centrality of its emphases on self-governance and self-regulation, which is a theme that in itself “concerns the substance and ordering of the Confucian process of self-­ cultivation” (Plaks 2003: 1: 183). Although it constitutes an equally important textual component within the program that Zhu Xi developed, the Doctrine of the Mean of Zisi is a work of an entirely different tenor from that of the Great Learning of Zengzi. Indeed, the fact that the Doctrine of the Mean is often to be found paired with the Book of Changes (Yijing 易經 or Zhou Yi 周易) offers us a clue concerning what we may regard as its particularized anthropocosmic vision (Tu 2008: 153). Our attempts to deduce precisely what Zhu Xi found so attractive about this text are best served by focusing first on its suggestive title, which is composed of the elements zhong 中, (meaning “centrality” or the state of “being centered” and thus “balance”) and yong 庸, (meaning “normality” or “commonality” or “constant”) (Keenan 2011: 30–31, 95, 97–99, 101; Johnston and Wang 2012: 181–207, 250c, 412c, 428c, 433). In Zhu’s mind, the title itself thereby came to connote the idea of the golden mean of moderation, or simply the avoidance of all excessiveness or extremes. However, no less a part of the allure of the Doctrine of the Mean for Zhu Xi appears to have been its central embedded concept of cheng 誠 (realness, genuineness, authenticity, sincerity, or self-actualization). In a certain sense, Zhu raised sincerity to the level of making it fully the moral equivalent of the humaneness promoted by Confucius. However, as John Berthrong deftly points out, “Ren, or humanity, differs from cheng in that cheng describes the moral intentionality of an individual that gives the unity of humane purpose to all human action” (Berthrong 2008: 251). Yet, cheng, like ren, also remains that mode of being whereby people are as authentic with others as they are with themselves. The person of cheng proves that human virtue never exists in isolation and, in fact, extends well beyond one’s immediate person to the entire universe (Johnston and Wang 2012: 325–27, 327–29, 336c, 457, 526–30).

4 Mencius, Human Nature (Xing 性), and the Heart-Mind (Xin 心) With his intellectual descent from Zisi being among the possibilities, many explanations are offered for why Zhu Xi granted Mencius unchallengeable status as the last and only legitimate pre-Qin spokesman for Confucianism (Wilson 1995: 122–25). However, ultimately, the reasons are neither mysterious nor complex. Foremost among them has been his role as an expounder and amplifier of topics, ideas, and

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concepts that Confucius merely broached and then left with no further development. As the first to embrace this role fully, especially through his able and often ingenious defenses of the Confucian faith, Mencius succeeded in securing for himself a position of almost unassailable hegemony. As Chong Kim-chong has observed, “We can see this by noting that, even where the sayings of Confucius are open to interpretation, many have tended to read them in Mencian terms” (Chong 2009: 190). Surely the least developed of the important concepts left behind by Confucius that first became fully expounded by Mencius is “human nature” (xing 性). In all of the Analects, human nature is referred to only twice, with only one of the two instances being a pronouncement on the concept from Confucius himself, in the form of the profoundly famous observation that we are “by nature, close to one another but, through experience, divergent” (Analects 17.2). Since the beginning, this utterance attributed to Confucius has been endlessly discussed because it is inherently recondite, with what exactly he had concluded regarding xing being subject to much debate (Slingerland 2009: 116). However, what is clear is that Confucius has herein posited a schema of human nature that moves from constancy to diffusion, from commonality to variance. Mencius elected to emphasize constancy and commonality as the proper portion of our being, concentrating on what is not only inborn, but also what is shared among us. In doing so, he advanced the cause of Confucian humanism with a new precedent, which came in the form of his declaration that we are all, invariantly and without exception, born with a nature that is good (xing shan 性善) (Mengzi 1989: [11] 5b or [6A] 5b; Mencius 2009: 124). Yet, had his contributions consisted of no more than a proclivity and capacity for asserting more and beyond what Confucius had had to say on any given concept, there is little reason to think that Mencius would have achieved such a hegemonic position within the line of Confucian successors. We must ask not only what more it was of value that he might have brought to and inserted within the tradition, but also whether any of it was novel or peculiar to him. We find the answer in his unique concentration and promotion of the concept of the “heart-mind” (xin 心). Of its novelty, Edward Slingerland observes, “that nowhere in the Analects do we find even a hint of the sophisticated conception of the heart-mind” that Mencius developed (Slingerland 2009: 109). In the view of Mencius, if it is truly a quality of our nature that is within us from the very first, then goodness must have some place within us where it resides. Mencius determined that this internal locus of goodness had to be the heart-mind, which emerged for him as the seat or repository of goodness (Shun 1997: 210–22). Moreover, expressly within the human heart-mind are contained what Mencius termed the Four Beginnings (also Four Sprouts) (siduan 四端) (Mengzi 1989: [3] 15b–16 or [2A] 15b–16; Mengzi 1989: [11] 5b or [6A] 5b; Mencius 2009: 35, 124; Thompson 2016: 616–17). Taking them to be collectively as natural to our constitutions as the four limbs (siti 四體), Mencius contended that these “beginnings” or “sprouts” are the nascent germs or seedlings that make us capable of developing the predispositions that will in turn enable our realization of the virtues that make us fully human. These predispositions are our capacities for our individual heart-minds to feel compassion or commiseration (ceyin 惻隱), shame (xiuwu 羞惡),

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­respectfulness (gongjing 恭敬), and the humility that comes from having a sense of right and wrong (shifei 是非) (Shun 1997: 133–49, 199–200, 204–13, 219, 222, 251). Properly nurtured, these germs or seedlings mature, eventually resulting in the fully articulated virtues of humaneness, rightness (yi 義), observance of the rites, and wisdom (zhi 智), respectively (Chong 2009: 191). These four pillars of humanity are believed to be immanent in everyone, even in depraved or otherwise disadvantaged individuals, such that the objective is to strengthen them as much as possible in order to arrive ideally at being a fully functioning socialized person. Such were the premises inherited from Mencius regarding human nature and the heart-mind with which Zhu Xi began. Over the centuries separating Zhu from the classical context of his pre-Qin predecessors, the views of Mencius on xing and xin had ascended to a position of dominance. Consequently, while perhaps more knowledgeable than anyone that his interpretation lacked the endorsement of Confucius, without arriving at such a conclusion analytically, Zhu Xi assumed that human nature was good, taking it as an article of faith (Gardner 2003: 168, 177; Keenan 2011: 29, 95). Similarly, although he was to refine the concept greatly, Zhu accepted out of hand and uncritically the existence of the heart-mind as posited by Mencius, appropriating it wholesale into the philosophical system that he constructed (Klancer 2015: 56, 95). Indeed, in ways perhaps somewhat beyond (but hardly inconsonant with) how Mencius had originally intended it, Zhu Xi employed the heart-mind within what Berthrong refers to as his moral anthropology, wherein it served “to unify the formal and the dynamic aspects of the emerging person” (Berthrong 2008: 247). However, as we might expect to be true, the impact of Zhu Xi’s appropriation of the notions of human nature and the heart-mind from Mencius would have been negligible had he not somehow altered these ideas and so transformed them in ways that made them his own. In other words, for them to be at all memorable, Zhu’s views on xing and xin must also have differed—that is, been distinguishable— from those of Mencius at the same time that they were openly derived from them. For example, whereas Mencius had considered compassion (ceyin) to be the actual sprout or beginning (duan) of the virtue of humaneness (ren), Zhu Xi instead contended that while humaneness is the fulfilled virtue that becomes constitutive of our natures (xing), compassion is really its outward expression as a feeling or emotion (qing 情). Or, as Catherine Hudak Klancer states the matter, citing Zhu’s very words, as he himself broke ranks with Mencius even as he draws inspiration from him: While Mencius says that commiseration and pity is the sprout . . . or beginning of the virtue of humaneness, Zhu says that commiseration is the feeling, while the humaneness is the nature: “Mencius said, ‘The commiserating heart is the sprout of humanness.’ Humaneness is nature, commiseration is emotion . . . nature is substance, and emotions are function.” (Klancer 2015: 130).

Clearly, according to Zhu, our feelings are the resultant expressions of our natures, whereas Mencius had seen them as seeds that would germinate and flower into the virtues themselves. Consequently, whether consciously or not, Zhu Xi

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r­ e-­conceptualized and manipulated both human nature and the heart-mind in manners that, from his standpoint, remained faithful to Confucian precedent while they simultaneously quite creatively advanced his own Neo-Confucian agenda. The most persuasive analysis of how Neo-Confucians, under the lead of Zhu Xi, reinterpreted the original Mencian conceptualizations of human nature and the heart-mind, restructuring their relationship, has been offered to us by the late Mou Zongsan 牟宗三 (1909–1995). These reformulations of how xing and xin became understood stemmed directly from (and largely ensued against) the backdrop of the pervasive emergence of the preeminent metaphysical system of the Neo-Confucians, culminating as it did in the form of the inseparable relationship between principle or pattern or reason (li 理) and vital force or psychophysical stuff (qi 氣). According to Mou, the Neo-Confucians of the Song dynasty (960–1279) beginning with Zhu Xi—and extending to include also those of the succeeding Ming dynasty (1368–1644)—distinguished between two kinds of human nature. Human nature, in the first instance, was an ethical construct, referred to by the Song–Ming Neo-­ Confucians as yili zhi xing 義理之性 or the “rationalizing moral nature.” However, human nature was also construed by these same thinkers as being a palpably tactile construct, which correspondingly became called qizhi zhi xing 氣質之性—the “corporeal nature” or, as Cheng Chung-yi, among others, has referred to it, the “materialist nature” (Cheng 2009: 431). Furthermore, Mou Zongsan argued that Neo-Confucians after Zhu Xi emphasized the functionality of the heart-mind as a faculty that was subjective and yet also universal. Whereas Mencius had regarded the xin foremost as a subjective construct, with each of us having our own, he nevertheless also posited that our individual heart-minds must necessarily exhibit something shared in common. Mencius had found this shared factor to be reason and rightness (liyi 理義) (Mengzi 1989: [11] 8b or [6A] 8b; Bloom 2009: 126). Taking their cue from this single intimation from Mencius and stressing its universalist aspect, Neo-Confucianist thinkers of especially the Ming and Qing (1644–1911) found the heart-mind not only to function analogously to human nature, but in fact to be identical to one’s human nature. Consequently, xin became the nature of humans in its moral guise (Cheng 2009: 430–31). However, Zhu Xi was never among those who equated xin with xing. As Huang Siu-chi argues compellingly, Zhu made his understanding of the relationship quite clear by referring to the latter as “the seat of consciousness,” but the former as “that which has consciousness” (Huang 1999: 137). This observation brings us to one final way in which Neo-Confucians led by Zhu Xi inaugurated an unprecedented and lasting reconceptualization of xin. One persistent question that has long been associated with the conceptualization of the xin as originally articulated by Mencius is whether he in fact really distinguishes between its emotive functioning and its cognitive functioning. While it is to some extent Eurocentric, this question nevertheless remains a consequential one. In answering it, most scholars concur that Mencius did not make such a distinction. Instead, expressed in a manner consistent with Chinese cultural inheritance of his day, the xin, for Mencius, was a reflective entity at the same time that it was an affective one (Chong 2009: 192). However,

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while always attentive to its emotive mode, Zhu Xi and those who came afterward in his wake began increasingly to regard xin as a cognitive faculty endowed with a consciousness that is distinct from what it is conscious of as well as from what it knows (Huang 1999: 137). Moreover, Zhu Xi viewed the xin as more than a faculty that is merely responsive to experience. The xin inherently “regulates, organizes, systematizes, and rationalizes man’s manifold experiences” (Huang 1999: 141–42). In sum, Zhu led the way whereby Neo-Confucians collectively accepted and increasingly conceived of the xin as primarily a faculty of cognition, and only secondarily one of affection. Despite drawing nearly all of his technical vocabulary from the classical Confucian tradition, one of the singular attributes of Zhu Xi was his outstanding facility at manipulating the key terms he extracted and infusing them with new meanings appropriately applicable to his own latter-day Song context (Berthrong 2008: 247). We find that there are few, if any, terms in the classical philosophical lexicon that could be a more representative result of this procedure than xin, which in Zhu Xi’s very capable hands made the crucial transition from the “heart/mind” of earlier ages to the “mind/heart” of Song times and thereafter (de Bary 1981: 67, 128–31).

5 Xunzi, the Mind-Heart (Xin 心), Principle (Li 理), and the Return to Ritual (Li 禮) By all accounts, the favor with which Zhu Xi beheld those pre-Qin Confucians who had preceded him is generally thought to have ended with Mencius (Wilson 1995: 44, 47, 68, 79–82). After all, Zhu deemed it fitting to exclude Xunzi from his orthodox “transmission of the Way” (daotong 道統), even though he was without doubt the most prominent philosopher after Mencius among the upholders of the Confucian vision (Chan 1987: 65, 67, 121). Indeed, this convention often leads us to assume that Zhu Xi believed Xunzi to have committed just too many unpardonable sins to warrant any attention, not to mention admiration. None among the philosophical flaws attributed to Xunzi contributes more to this assumption than his espousal of the direct counterargument to that of Mencius that human nature was bad or even evil (ren zhi xing e 人之性惡) (Xunzi 1927–1936: [17] 23.1; Xunzi 2014: 248). We cannot expect that Zhu Xi would overtly affirm any associations with Xunzi, having after all excluded the thinker entirely from his rendition of the daotong, which was subsequently destined to become authoritative. However, we are surely misguided if we are inclined to suspect that such a prodigiously well-read polymath as Zhu Xi would be wholly uninfluenced by Xunzi or any of his other major Confucian forbearers, for we find him to have expressed some opinion—positive or negative, perfunctory or extensive—on essentially all of them. In fact, recently, much illuminating research into connections formerly thought to be tenuous between Xunzi and Zhu Xi has gained momentum. Some of the most substantive instances of the resulting scholarship has been stimulated by the provocatively

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s­ urprising observation made by Mou Zongsan that Zhu Xi himself, by not being truly in the line of the main branch of the “transmission of the Way,” may well represent Xunzi’s “philosophical revenge” on Mencius (Berthrong 2013: 400; Berthrong 2015: 230–31). While it remains startlingly unexpected, this quip of Mou Zongsan’s has nonetheless been productively reinforced by an abundance of insightful scholarship subsequently produced that reveals what are firm conceptual parallels and arguably even connections between Xunzi and Zhu Xi that most researchers previously thought to be at best only tacit. For example, the scholar Zhang Erping 張二平 has concisely but convincingly made the case for the Xunzian origins of so central and famed a methodological paradigm as Zhu Xi’s “investigation of things and the extension of knowledge” (gewu zhizhi 格物致知) (Zhang 2007: 30–35). Consequently, a summary consideration of what and how Xunzi’s understanding of the aforementioned concepts of the mind-heart and principle might well have contributed to Zhu Xi’s own presents us with two highly illustrative examples of such unanticipated parallelism and possible connections. Noteworthy also is how any inquiry into the plausible interconnectedness between the thinking of Xunzi and Zhu Xi about the mind-heart and principle tends to draw these particular concepts themselves into a heretofore unprecedentedly integral interrelationship that compels us to examine them dually. The two constructs on which to focus for discerning possible linkages between Xunzi and Zhu Xi are indeed the mind-heart and principle. The dominant methodological thrust that scholars have adopted in scrutinizing how Xunzi and Zhu Xi conceptualized the mind-heart or xin and principle or li has been lexicographical. This approach is especially appropriate given what Li Zehou has described as the considerable degree of historical sedimentation, in a manner analogous to geological sedimentation, undergone by each concept over a tremendously long time, resulting in the layered accretion of new meanings (Li 2010: x–xi, 7–8, 50, 65, 144, 186, 223–24). Moreover, it is curiously ironic that, whereas we can find each concept to have had its pre-Qin philosophical origin in Mencius, Xunzi actually emerges as having had the proverbial last word on the mind-heart and principle. For example, regarding the former, Zhang Dainian remarks that, “The most detailed discussion of the mind in pre-Qin philosophy is to be found in the Xunzi” (Zhang 2002: 394). Therefore, with respect to the mind-heart, there appears to be much shared or at least contiguous lexicographical ground between Xunzi and Zhu Xi (Cai 1988: 35). Yet, even if a striking comparability does not prove at all that the former thinker brought any influence to bear on the latter, we still stand to profit from considering the incidences of parallelism in the autonomy that each philosopher accorded to the mind-heart. Xunzi, for example, saliently remarked that the mind-heart “is the ruler of the body and the master of its godlike intelligence. It gives commands, but it is not subject to them” (Xunzi 1927–1936: [15] 21.5b). Offering a modern-day interpretation of the dominating autonomy of the mind-heart among our faculties from the Xunzian perspective, Janghee Lee states that, “In Xunzi’s moral epistemology, the faculty of xin and empirical knowledge occupy central positions. While

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k­ nowledge is produced by our experience, it is neither available nor reliable without the faculty of xin” (Lee 2005: 46). Strikingly, we find that Lee’s interpretation applies just as aptly to the perspective on the mind-heart evinced by Zhu Xi. Voicing the matter in every respect comparably to Xunzi, Zhu Xi declares that the xin is alone in lacking a faculty of corresponding importance, stating succinctly that, “Only the mind-heart lacks a counterpart” (Zhu 1986: [5] 84; Chan 1963: 628). Moreover, beyond his recognition of its singularity, we also discover that Zhu is hardly reticent in attributing the same authority over human functions to xin that Xunzi does: As for the mind-heart, we refer to it as the master. It is master over both activity as well as tranquility, and never is it true that only in times of activity is it operative and yet in tranquil times there is no need for it. When we speak of the mind-heart as master, we are referring to that all-pervading unity which is self-contained within it. The mind-heart unites and aggregates our natures and our emotions, and yet it in no way unites with them to form an inchoate entity of which we are incapable of discerning any distinctions. (Zhu 1986: [5] 94; Chan 1963: 631) 心, 主宰之謂也。動靜皆主宰, 非是靜時無所用, 及至動時方有主宰也。言主宰, 則混然體統自在其中。心統攝性情, 非儱侗與性情爲一物而不分别也。

Indeed, Zhu Xi repeatedly reinforces this overlord status of the xin, not merely by referring to the mind-heart nominally as “master” (zhuzai 主宰), but also by extolling its limitless capability. He states emphatically that: “The human mindheart is truly that which is capable of knowing everything, and if it were not capable of doing so, then it would be only a figment of our imaginations” (Zhu 1986: [45] 1152). This comprehensive control over the acquisition of all human knowledge, and therefore also over the expression of all human actions with which Zhu Xi invests the xin, naturally invites the question not only of what role it must play in the good we do, but also in the evil we commit. Acknowledging this logic, when asked whether the mind-heart, which embraces all principles, must necessarily contain evil within it, Zhu affirms that it does, stating that whereas “it indeed is not attributable to the original constitution of the mind-heart, still both good and evil issue forth from it” (Zhu 1986: [5] 86; Chan 1963: 628). Key in framing this question to him, however, is the fact that Zhu Xi’s interlocutor himself describes whatever evil that must issue forth from the mind as being a brand of “selfishness composed of tangibly corporeal desires” (qibing wuyu zhi si 氣禀物欲之私) (Zhu 1986: [5] 86; Chan 1963: 628). Here as elsewhere, when accounting for evil generally as well as for whatever role the mind-heart might play in a particular instance of its propagation, Zhu Xi qualifies his explanations by resorting to the detrimental effects of coarse or impure qi—that is, the interventions of excessive corporeality or substantiality. Zhu, deliberating on the matter not merely in relation to the mind-heart, but even by extending it to human nature itself, succinctly states: “Whereas the mind-heart contains both good and evil, the nature contains nothing that is not good. Yet, if we are discussing that nature which is corporeally coarsened by impurity, then it also contains that which is not good” (Zhu 1986: [5] 89).

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Consequently, we can see from the foregoing analysis that Zhu Xi believed the impinging, obscuring, and consequently enabling factor in the evil that humans perpetrate to be qi and never li (principle). In Zhu’s opinion, not even the mind-heart was immune to the negative influence of qi. However, we can perhaps extract some degree of reassurance by finally taking note of an observation that Zhu Xi made, much like that made by Xunzi, about the special relationship between the xin and principle. Zhu states: “The mind-heart and principle are one, such that were it not for principle having come first, the two would be one thing. Given the principles within it, what the mind-heart is capable of accumulating is boundless, as are the affairs it is capable of addressing” (Zhu 1986: [5] 85). Whether and precisely how Zhu Xi might conceivably have acquired the Xunzian conceptualization of principle has recently emerged as an especially fertile focus of philosophical investigation. Like the research dealing with perceived points of intersection in their understanding of the relationship between the mind-heart and principle, these contemporary inquiries into the prospective transferal between Xunzi and Zhu Xi of a uniform notion of li itself have been mainly lexicographical. Leading the way with respect to this kind of inquiry by Western scholars are those works produced by Aaron Stalnaker and Brook Ziporyn (Berthrong 2013: 403). According to Stalnaker, what connects Zhu Xi’s conception of principle to Xunzi’s is a mutual understanding across time on the part of both philosophers of the concept in question interpreted as “orderly or patterned coherence” (Stalnaker 2006: 7, 36, 73, 85). What becomes critical to the emergence of such a conception on the part of both thinkers is a mutual rejection of principle as ever being in any way a “faculty of the mind.” Or, as Stalnaker further states, “Examining how, for Xunzi, li never means ‘reason’ in the sense of a faculty of the mind, or a warrant for action or belief, nor ‘rationale’ in the sense of a justifying account, helps us to grasp the distinctive ways he conceived of thinking and arguing” (Stalnaker 2004: 54). In other words, for both men, Xunzi and Zhu, principle is always the apprehended object instead of the apprehending subject. Like Stalnaker, Ziporyn also makes the powerful case for principle as having been conceived by both Xunzi and Zhu Xi as an entity of coherence (Ziporyn 2013: 40, 58, 339). He recognizes and appreciates that the approach to such ontological precepts as li (principle) has been principally dyadic in the past, consisting of ideas in apposition like being and nonbeing, immanence and transcendence, and so forth, all in the quest for complementarity. Instead, Ziporyn is convinced that we become capable of obtaining more fruitful levels of understanding through unitary ideas that are conceptually aggregative, such as harmony and, of course, coherence (Ziporyn 2013: 9, 45–48, 58, 179–80). Moreover, just as it had been for Xunzi before him, Zhu Xi’s subscription to coherence as the result of his intellectual investment in principle was inescapable. As Ziporyn comments, “Li is for Zhu Xi the vertices of the coherences that aid human coherence when cohered with,” and—despite whatever attributes of distinctiveness were inherent—his conception of principle much conformed to how it had been understood by others extending back into the most remote antiquity (Ziporyn 2013: 339).

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However, the separate discussions by Stalnaker and Ziporyn of the commensurately similar treatment of principle in the distinct-but-seemingly-related systems of Xunzi and Zhu Xi expose a final area of parallelism that constitutes perhaps the most remarkable discovery of all. We find that lexicographical inquiry into principle, like the foregoing one into the mind-heart, results ultimately in a return to a no less consequential factor shared in common in their thought. This factor, just as it was in our initial consideration of Zhu Xi’s thought in relation to that of Confucius, turns out to be ritual. In the end, this return to ritual as absolutely fundamental on the part of Xunzi as well as Zhu Xi is hardly surprising, given the resoluteness of the commitment of each man to study or learning or education (xue 學) in the tradition established by Confucius (Slingerland 2009: 118). In the case of Xunzi, the alluring precedent set by Confucius and the detectable contrast in approach to the overall project of learning with Mencius is quite illuminating. As Benjamin Schwartz once observed, at least in this connection, Xunzi “seems closer to the Analects than does Mencius. Learning in the literal sense is elevated to the level of a sacred enterprise” (Schwartz 1985: 297). Xunzi held that only faithful subscription to the performance of the rites facilitated the process of learning. In the case of Zhu Xi, the primacy accorded to ritual in the project of learning followed naturally from the long-established precedent of its cardinal function in self-cultivation among the disciples most proximate to Confucius (Keenan 2011: 17). Indeed, far more surprising than the prominence of ritual in the educational regimen of either Xunzi or Zhu Xi is the fact that each man embraced the same concept as the preeminent solution based largely on diametrically opposed assumptions about xing or human nature. Without insisting that our natures are so inveterately bad that it is impossible to divert them from arriving at evil, Xunzi nevertheless stressed our natural proclivity always and at all times to pursue a trajectory that leads us in that direction. “What is at first a set of selfish, biologically based needs, drives, and capacities, will if free of the influence of education, good government, and the threat of punishment become ‘wicked’ and ‘rebellious,’ actively recalcitrant to the aims of social harmony and peace” (Stalnaker 2006: 65). By contrast, Zhu Xi subscribed to and attempted to buttress the doctrine of the original goodness of human nature as Mencius had formulated it. However, perhaps precisely because he premised optimal human relations on the standard of goodness, Zhu was keenly concerned about the problem of moral evil in the world. He ultimately attributed evil to neither the xing nor the xin or mind-heart of humankind, which are unitary in the sense that they are uniformly and invariantly good, but instead to the qualitative variations of received qi or psychophysical stuff from person to person. Being poorly endowed with coarse, turbid qi disposes one toward evil conduct; being well endowed with rarified, translucent qi does not. (Huang 1999: 153). Therefore, we find that both Xunzi and Zhu Xi believed that our only assurance of redemption comes through conformance to the constraining safety of the rites (Keenan 2011: 82–85). On the one hand, as in the cases of the mind-heart and principle, owing to the absence of direct acknowledgment, we must stop short of declaring this abiding faith in ritual as a contribution acquired directly by Zhu Xi from

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Xunzi. Still, on the other hand, from what the preserved records of their reflections on these concepts afford to us, few can contend that the discourses on the rites, their vital role, and their exalted place in the philosophies developed by Xunzi and Zhu Xi do not evince markedly similar contours, themes, and opinions.

6 Conclusion As we have seen, the intellectual connection that Zhu Xi maintained to those who later generations would come to regard as his pre-Qin philosophical peerage, albeit extended over a great swath of time, was both foundational and inspiring. Moreover, we have discovered that this remarkable state of bonding that Zhu Xi sustained with those predecessors of the past he never conceivably could have met but who he nonetheless so thoroughly admired was also quite essentialist. After all, what we have perhaps come to appreciate foremost is how exceedingly unlikely Zhu would ever have been to have developed his own system without the inheritance of the resilient cache of concepts first introduced into the philosophical lexicon and made staples of its discourse by his ancient forbearers. Their contributions creatively incentivized Zhu Xi, undeniably propelling him toward the advancement of a philosophical system that was vastly fuller than it would otherwise have been. Yet, the impressiveness of his achievement notwithstanding, it is ironic to realize today that Zhu Xi himself only had partial access to the fund of ideas discussed by pre-Qin predecessors. Provocative as well as arresting to consider is that had he been privy to the bamboo and wooden slips (jiandu 簡牘) excavation tradition that is now progressively advancing our knowledge and that has risen to such prominence only as recently as our times, then the system Zhu developed would have been richer still. Nevertheless, in the end, in the process of the transferal of a great number of concepts from pre-Qin times into Zhu Xi’s own, we have witnessed that ritual in particular occupies a place of enormous importance. We can and should attribute this conspicuous prominence in large part to the unusual reflexivity of li as a concept. Uniquely, the rites refer to spiritual acts themselves, but also, simultaneously and at all times, to the spirit, attitude, or disposition with which those very acts are executed. Indeed, as Justin Tiwald and Bryan W. Van Norden convey: “Ritual” originally referred to religious ceremonies, especially sacrificial offerings of food and drink to the spirits of one’s ancestors. However, many centuries before the Neo-­ Confucians (as far back as the time of Kongzi) “ritual” had taken on a wider scope, referring also to matters of etiquette, such as the proper manner in which to greet a guest, or address a subordinate. Eventually, “ritual” became almost synonymous with appropriate behavior in general. (Tiwald and Van Norden 2014: 121)

Hence, from among all the Confucian virtues, we discover that it is li—whether construed as ritual or propriety, decorum or just common decency—that forges the securest practical continuum between past and present. We find that in Zhu Xi’s time, just as it had been in the age of Confucius, the virtuous adherence to the

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p­ ractice of ritual served as the lynchpin for all spiritual progress that one was ever capable of making in the Confucian vein.

References Angle, Stephen C. 2015. “Zhu Xi’s Virtue Ethics and the Grotian Challenge.” In David Jones and Jinli He, eds., Returning to Zhu Xi: Emerging Patterns Within the Supreme Polarity. Albany: State University of New York Press. Berthrong, John. 2008. “Re-Investigating the Way: The Architectonics of Zhu Xi’s Mature Discourse.” In Ng On-cho, ed., The Imperative of Understanding: Chinese Philosophy, Comparative Philosophy, and Onto-Hermeneutics. New York: Global Scholarly Publications. ———. 2013. “Xunzi and Zhu Xi.” Journal of Chinese Philosophy 40.3–4: 400–416. (Astute article that concisely details the major points of intersection unexpectedly shared in common by the two thinkers.) ———. 2015. “Boston Daoxue: The Modern Transposition of Zhu Xi’s Philosophical Vision.” In David Jones and Jinli He, eds., Returning to Zhu Xi: Emerging Patterns within the Supreme Polarity. Albany: State University of New York Press. Cai, Renhou 蔡仁厚. 1988. “Xunzi and Zhu Xi: A Comparison of the Deliberations on Mind-­ Heart and Human Nature in the Two Schools of the Philosophers Xunzi and Zhu Xi and Their Statuses Within Confucianism 荀子與朱子:荀朱二家性論之比較及其在儒學中的地位.” Goose Lake Studies 鵝湖學誌 1: 33–53. (Makes a compelling case for how these two concepts came to hold the exalted positions in the thought of both Xunzi and Zhu Xi that they did.) Chan, Wing-tsit. 1963. A Source Book in Chinese Philosophy. Princeton: Princeton University Press. ———. 1987. Chu Hsi: Life and Thought. Hong Kong: The Chinese University Press. (Being an assemblage of the prestigious Ch’ien Mu [Qian Mu 錢穆] lectures on history and culture delivered in 1984, as the first in what became numerous English-language treatments undertaking the scholarly integration of Zhu Xi’s life experience and his philosophy, this work stands as a lasting achievement.) Cheng, Chung-yi. 2009. “Philosophical Development in Late Ming and Early Qing.” In Bo Mou, ed., History of Chinese Philosophy. London/New York: Routledge. Chong, Kim-chong. 2009. “Classical Confucianism (II): Meng Zi and Xun Zi.” In Bo Mou, ed., History of Chinese Philosophy. London/New York: Routledge. Csikszentmihalyi, Mark. 2004. Material Virtue: Ethics and the Body in Early China. Sinica Leidensia Vol. LXVI. Leiden/Boston: Brill. de Bary, Wm. Theodore. 1981. Neo-Confucian Orthodoxy and the Learning of the Mind-and-­ Heart. New York: Columbia University Press. ———. 2013. The Great Civilized Conversation: Education for a World Community. New York: Columbia University Press. Fingarette, Herbert. 1972. Confucius: The Secular as Sacred. Prospect Heights: Waveland Press. (Still a classic study that—because of its provocative questioning of the extent to which ritual can ever be fully internalized—should be read by every student of Confucianism in its classical articulation.) Gardner, Daniel K. 2003. Zhu Xi’s Reading of the Analects: Canon, Commentary, and Classical Tradition. New York: Columbia University Press. Huang, Siu-chi. 1999. Essentials of Neo-Confucianism: Eight Major Philosophers of the Song and Ming Periods. Westport/London: Greenwood Press. (Inclusive of the metaphysical assumptions and methodological premises of the major Neo-Confucian philosophers ranging from Zhou Dunyi 周敦頤 to Wang Yangming 王陽明, this survey remains one of the most accessible and balanced and yet penetratingly revealing compendiums available.)

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Johnston, Ian, and Wang Ping. 2012. Daxue and Zhongyong: Bilingual Edition. Hong Kong: The Chinese University Press. (The most comprehensively annotated joint-edition of these two classics and their “old text” and “new text” versions to date, including related interpretive essays.) Keenan, Barry C. 2011. Neo-Confucian Self-Cultivation. Honolulu: University of Hawai’i Press. Klancer, Catherine H. 2015. Embracing Our Complexity: Thomas Aquinas and Zhu Xi on Power and the Common Good. Albany: State University of New York Press. (Useful especially for its synoptically comparative explication of the approaches of Aquinas and Zhu Xi to the self-­ cultivation project.) Lee, Janghee. 2005. Xunzi and Early Chinese Naturalism. Albany: State University of New York Press. (One of the increasing number of works that is casting insightful light on the neglected philosophical connections Xunzi and Zhu Xi, especially regarding their comparable views on the unique functioning in humans of the xin 心.) Li, Zehou. 2010. The Chinese Aesthetic Tradition, trans. Maija Bell Samei. Honolulu: University of Hawai’i Press. Liu, Shu-hsien. 2009. “Neo-Confucianism (I): From Cheng Yi to Zhu Xi.” In Bo Mou, ed., History of Chinese Philosophy. London/New York: Routledge. Mencius (Mengzi) 孟子. 1989. SBCK 四部備要 ed. Shanghai 上海: Shanghai Shudian 上海書店. Mencius. 2009. Trans. by Irene Bloom, edited and with an introduction by Philip J.  Ivanhoe. New York: Columbia University Press. Meng, Peiyuan. 2015. “How to Unite Is and Ought: An Explanation Regarding the Work of Master Zhu,” trans. Eric Colwell and Jinli He. In David Jones and Jinli He, ed., Returning to Zhu Xi: Emerging Patterns Within the Supreme Polarity. Albany: State University of New York Press. Plaks, Andrew. 2003. “Daxue 大學 (The Great Learning).” In vol. 1 of RoutledgeCurzon Encyclopedia of Confucianism, 2 vols, edited by Xinzhong Yao. London/New York: RoutledgeCurzon. Schwartz, Benjamin I. 1985. The World of Thought in Ancient China. Cambridge, MA/London: Belknap Press of Harvard University Press. Shun, Kwong-loi. 1997. Mencius and Early Chinese Thought. Stanford: Stanford University Press. Slingerland, Edward. 2009. “Classical Confucianism (I): Confucius and the Lun-Yü.” In Bo Mou, ed., History of Chinese Philosophy. London; New York: Routledge. Stalnaker, Aaron. 2004. “Rational Justification in Xunzi: On His Use of the Term Li [理].” International Philosophical Quarterly 44.1: 53–68. (An exceedingly insightful article that details the Xunzian conception of principle or pattern that Zhu Xi in large part inherited.) ———. 2006. Overcoming Our Evil: Human Nature and Spiritual Exercises in Xunzi and Augustine. Washington, DC: Georgetown University Press. Thompson, Kirill O. 2015. “Opposition and Complementarity in Zhu Xi’s Thought.” In David Jones and Jinli He, eds., Returning to Zhu Xi: Emerging Patterns Within the Supreme Polarity. Albany: State University of New York Press. (This chapter essay focuses on the operational vocabulary of Zhu Xi’s moral metaphysics, making the persuasive claim for the containment of even terms that appear superficially to be in oppositional tension within an organic holism.) ———. 2016. “Zhu Xi’s Completion of Confucius’ Humanistic Ethics.” International Communication of Chinese Culture 3.4: 605–29. Tiwald, Justin, and Bryan W. Van Norden, eds. 2014. Readings in Later Chinese Philosophy: Han Dynasty to 20th Century. Indianapolis/Cambridge, MA: Hackett Publishing Company. Tu, Weiming. 2008. “Sociality, Individuality and Anthropocosmic Vision in Confucian Humanism.” In Marthe Chandler and Ronnie Littlejohn, eds., Polishing the Chinese Mirror: Essays in Honor of Henry Rosemont, Jr. New York: Global Scholarly Publications. Wilson, Thomas A. 1995. Genealogy of the Way: The Construction and Uses of the Confucian Tradition in Late Imperial China. Stanford: Stanford University Press. (Still the landmark English-language monographic inquiry into and analysis of the constructed lineage of Confucian intellectual transmission bequeathed by Zhu Xi to subsequent generations in the form of the daotong 道統.) Xunzi 荀子. 1927–1936. SBBY 四部備要 ed. Shanghai 上海: Zhonghua Shuju 中華書局.

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Xunzi. 2014. Trans. by Eric L. Hutton. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Zhang, Dainian. 2002. Key Concepts in Chinese Philosophy, trans. and ed. Edmund Ryden. New Haven/London: Yale University Press; Beijing: Foreign Languages Press. Zhang, Erping 張二平. 2007. “The Sources of Zhu Xi’s Discourse on the Investigation of Things and the Extension of Knowledge in the Learning of Xunzi 朱子格物致知説荀學溯源.” Goose Lake Monthly 鵝湖月刊 33.4.388: 30–35. (A brief but revelatory exposition on the unheralded Xunzian roots of Zhu Xi’s prime methodological approach to the acquisition of knowledge.) Zhu, Xi 朱熹. 1965. The Four Books with Collected Commentaries 四書章句集注. Taipei 臺北: Shijie Shuju 世界書局. ———. 1985–1991. The Collected Works of Zhu Xi 朱子文集. Congshu jicheng chubian 叢書集 成初編 ed. Beijing 北京: Zhonghua Shuju 中華書局. ———. 1986. In Li Jingde 黎靖德, Wang Xingxian 王星賢, eds., Classified Conversations of Master Zhu 朱子語類. Beijing 北京: Zhonghua Shuju 中華書局; Xinhua Shudian Beijing Faxingsuo 新華書店北京發行所. ———. 1987. The Collected Commentaries on the Analects 論語集注, part 3 of The Collected Commentaries on the Four Books 四書章句集注. Shanghai 上海: Shanghai Shudian 上海書 店. Ziporyn, Brett. 2013. Beyond Oneness and Difference: Li 理 and Coherence in Chinese Buddhist Thought and Its Antecedents. Albany: State University of New York Press. (Examines the heretofore little-researched but viable role of Buddhism as a mediator between Xunzi’s original and Zhu Xi’s received understanding of principle or pattern.) Don J. Wyatt (PhD Harvard University) is currently John M. McCardell, Jr. distinguished professor at the Department of History and director of East Asian Studies for the Program in International and Global Studies at Middlebury College, Vermont, USA. Included among the foci of his research and scholarship is the investigation of major points of convergence and divergence within Chinese thought generally, but especially scrutiny of those which are construed as existing between the classical and the post-classical Confucian traditions.  

Chapter 7

Zhu Xi and the Han–Tang Confucians Don J. Wyatt

1 Introduction Despite embracing his calling as a philosopher, who—as did all others, regardless of cultural context—sought to convey a timeless message, Zhu Xi 朱熹 (1130–1200), like the exemplary Kongzi 孔子 (551–479 BCE) (hereafter Confucius) before him, was profoundly cognizant of his own times as well as those that had preceded them. To be sure, Zhu Xi differed markedly from Confucius in his relatively high regard, at least in intellectual terms, for his own immediately preceding age. Confucius had considered himself to be living in times of abject decline or even fallenness, and— despite his sacral veneration for the first centuries of the Zhou dynasty (c. 1045–221 BCE) as a golden age—he believed the successive centuries leading up to his own to have hardly at all been virtuous (Slingerland 2009: 115–17). As a subscriber to the conventional Confucian interpretation of the past, Zhu Xi, of course, also dutifully exalted the era of Zhou dynastic antiquity. Among all prior epochs, Zhu regarded especially that of the Zhou founding and the immediate centuries thereafter with genuine awe. Like countless other Confucians who had preceded him, he credited that halcyon era—largely because of the paragons who established and lived during it—with the genesis of his beliefs (Chan 1987: 65, 67, 121–22, 127). Yet, we can also detect a crucial difference in historical perception that greatly distinguishes Zhu Xi from Confucius. Deploring the depths to which each successive generation—including his own—had distanced itself further from the efflorescence of virtue at the beginning of the Zhou, Confucius had decried and gravely lamented the times in which he lived, feeling he had no contemporary models and few allies apart from his disciples (Schwartz 1985: 110, 116). By stark contrast, D. J. Wyatt (*) Department of History, Middlebury College, Middlebury, VT, USA e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2020 K.-c. Ng, Y. Huang (eds.), Dao Companion to ZHU Xi’s Philosophy, Dao Companions to Chinese Philosophy 13, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-29175-4_7

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despite the temporal indirectness of his connection with all of them, Zhu Xi regarded many of the esteemed masters of the preceding Northern Song era (960–1127) as his de facto mentors, and he drew inspiration particularly from the peerless Cheng Yi 程頤 (1033–1107) in the assemblage of his own philosophy. Notably, then, Zhu Xi differed markedly from Confucius in his comparatively favorable regard not merely for times of antiquity, but also for his own. Yet, once we turn to consider his scrutiny of his Confucian predecessors who lived at various points during the nearly millennium–and-a-half span of time after Confucius and Mengzi 孟子 (c. 370–c. 290 BCE) (hereafter Mencius), we find that Zhu Xi’s evaluations become more complicated than his views on either the Zhou founders or his Song precursors. In fact, he was unquestionably familiar with the ideas of the more prominent Confucian-minded thinkers of the Han (206  BCE–220  CE) and Tang (618–907) dynasties, and consequently bore their influence variably but inescapably. As we shall see, despite finding much to admire about many members of this cohort of scholars, Zhu Xi seems to have found even more to criticize. Furthermore, even in the act of leveling his criticisms against them, Zhu Xi displayed a tendency for dissimilar modes of critique of the Han versus the Tang Confucians. In the former case, whereas some of his criticisms were specific to the individual thinkers in question, Zhu Xi perhaps more frequently, because of his respect for them, followed the lead of his predecessors of the early Song in critiquing the Confucians of the Han, resulting in an assessment of them overall that was as much collectivist as it was individuated (Huang 1999: 128). Therefore, to a substantial extent, Zhu Xi’s own critiques of the major shortcomings evinced by these Han exponents rested as much on the opinions inherited from the relatively recent intellectual past—and thus already held in common by many of his own contemporaries—as it did on what he himself might have independently thought. For example, one of the significant complaints that Zhu Xi lodged generically against the philosophers of Han times, and particularly against those who were much influenced by the classicist Xunzi 荀子 (c. 300–c. 230 BCE), concerned their insistence on the ritualistically literalist conduction of the rites (li 禮). Zhu believed this approach to be overly doctrinaire, such that it had caused Confucian forbearers of the Han to be generally wanting in the exemplary humanistic spirit that should underlie and animate the necessary (but by no means sufficient) faithful practice of the rites. As a result, they rendered themselves incapable of executing the rituals in ways they were believed to have been carried out in the times of Confucius and Mencius (Thompson 2015: 164). By contrast, in his evaluations of the outstanding Confucians of the subsequent Tang era, Zhu Xi generally adopted an approach that was more exclusively ad hominin or “to the man” in its specificity and in fact, as is below shown, concentrated largely on only two men. This divergence in approaches pursued by Zhu Xi with respect to those Tang Confucians in comparison to their Han counterparts has resulted in appraisals of their contributions that, if not altogether unique, are relatively novel in comparison to those espoused by either earlier or contemporary Song thinkers. Perhaps owing to their closer proximity to him in time, with some noteworthy exceptions, the summary judgments that Zhu affords us on the merits and shortcomings of the Confucians of the Tang consequently tend to

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surpass those that he proffered on those of the Han in their degrees of individuation, particularization, and detail.

2 Han: Dong Zhongshu 董仲舒 and Yang Xiong 揚雄 On balance, Zhu Xi, probably affirmed just as many of the ideas that were constitutive of the philosophical programs of the Han Confucians as he ever denigrated, the genericized nature of his critiques notwithstanding. These ideas culled from earlier thinkers thereby guided and inspired his own reflections, even when he might have stopped short of appropriating them as his own and incorporating them within his comprehensive synthesis. In this way, being second only to that originating in the centuries prior to the imperial unification under the Qin dynasty (221–206 BCE), the Confucianism that emerged during the early Han served as the next great bedrock on which Zhu Xi’s entire enterprise rested. Leading the way among the most prominent scholars of the Han, and foremost in terms of his influence on Zhu Xi, was the eminent Dong Zhongshu 董仲舒 (c. 179–c. 104 BCE). Dong also without question stands as the Han scholar to whom Zhu Xi responded in the most individuated, if complex, way. On the one hand, Zhu Xi venerated Dong Zhongshu as a “pure scholar” or “immaculate Confucian” (chun ru 醇儒) (Zhu 2000: [78] 3896; Loewe 2011: 74). On the other hand, as was also true in the cases of most others, of whom he evidently thought far less highly, Zhu denied Dong inclusion in his “transmission of the Way” (daotong 道統), which eventually achieved the status of orthodoxy (Makeham 2003: 177). We must therefore reasonably ask ourselves what it was about Dong Zhongshu that elicited this consummately ambivalent assessment on Zhu Xi’s part. Much of the attraction of the philosophy of Dong Zhongshu for Neo-Confucians like Zhu Xi stems from its pronounced eclecticism. The vastness of the array of components comprising Dong’s thought in itself engendered a seductive susceptibility among others to its influence. As numerous later historians of Chinese philosophy have observed, beginning with Fung Yu-lan 馮友蘭 (1895–1990), the philosophy of Dong Zhongshu is really perhaps the earliest amalgam of several of the most disparate traditions in Chinese thought up until its time (Fung 1976: 191–95). Indeed, as Fung Yiu-ming still more recently notes, yin/yang 陰陽 dyadism, wuxing 五行 (Five Elements or “Agents” or “Phases”) dynamism, Yijing 易經 (Book of Changes) cosmology, Daoist metaphysics and terminology, and Confucian ethico-political moralism are all reflected in the philosophical formulation arrived at by Dong Zhongshu (Fung 2009: 269–81). Therefore, we are probably not amiss today in inferring that Zhu Xi, together with a host of Neo-Confucians both before and well after him, likely regarded Dong Zhongshu as the first Confucian syncretist. Consequently, owing to its breadth of eclecticism, the fact that Dong Zhongshu’s philosophy should have contributed to Zhu Xi’s own wide-ranging system in substantial ways becomes unsurprising. Indeed, as the late Julia Ching once stated, Zhu Xi and his intellectual predecessors

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acclimatized themselves through exposure to Dong Zhongshu’s theories, which in turn prompted them to revive especially the study of the Book of Changes “for their understanding of themselves as human beings, the universe around them, and whatever higher power there may be.” As Ching further remarked, Zhu and others “also made ready use of correlations to explain their own ideas of human nature and morality, including very fine points regarding the emotions and how these are made manifest” (Ching 2000: 9). As is revealed by the ensuing discussion, Zhu Xi oftentimes devoted disproportional attention to questions about human nature, morality, and the place of emotions. Moreover, taken collectively, the reflections that Zhu specifically culled from the deliberations by Han and Tang Confucians on these very same subjects constituted the impetus that prompted him to concentrate so assiduously on these matters. Consequently, once understood in this light, these foregoing observations by Julia Ching become as remarkably pertinent as they are salient. Of the meager number of surviving written works attributed to Dong Zhongshu, none surpasses Luxuriant Gems of the Spring and Autumn Annals (Chunqiu fanlu 春秋繁露) in renown (Dong 2016: 1n1, 54–55, 64, 648). Despite its title, Luxuriant Gems of the Spring and Autumn Annals is oftentimes less a work of political postulations and judgments in the vein of its namesake classic than it is a metaphysical tract that exhibits the same epistemological terminology and tendencies in discourse as the Yijing. Much of the former that is found in Luxuriant Gems of the Spring and Autumn Annals is arguably drawn directly from the Yijing. For instance, as Dennis Cheng Chi-hsiung has written, “Dong Zhongshu nurtured his thinking in the varied philosophic traditions of Confucianism, including the Yinyang school as well as the Yijing learning of the pre-Qin period” (Cheng 2008: 224). However, we must point to this very same eclecticism that Luxuriant Gems of the Spring and Autumn Annals displays as having also worked to the disadvantage of Dong’s legacy. Tacit disapproval of much of the wide-ranging contents of Luxuriant Gems of the Spring and Autumn Annals as well as consternation regarding its many themes construed as being at variance with tradition produced many detractors. These were the factors that in fact led Zhu Xi to become only the first among a series of scholars to contend that Dong was either not the exclusive author of Luxuriant Gems of the Spring and Autumn Annals or not its author at all (Loewe 2011: 199). His skepticism regarding the matter of the authorship of this ascribed treatise notwithstanding, Zhu Xi nonetheless appears to have much appreciated certain views that we can only attribute to Dong Zhongshu via exposure to his Luxuriant Gems of the Spring and Autumn Annals. One such example involves that of the all-­ important conduction of the rites that advances moral progress. Zhu Xi seems to have valued Dong Zhongshu for his exceptional insights within what he considered an otherwise uncompromising fold of Han ritualists. Zhu respected Dong for his uncommon flexibility during his age in acknowledging that the expedient (quan 權) is not always necessarily the enemy of the normative or the standard (jing 經) (Wei 1986: 256–59). Or, as Julia Ching writes, in directly translating Dong Zhongshu, “’[A]lthough the expedient is at variance with the norm, it must be within the scope of what can be allowed …. The expedient is a tactful measure. It would be better if

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we can return to the norm’” (Dong 1927–1936: [3] sec. 4: 4a–b). Furthermore, in characterizing what Zhu Xi drew and adopted from Dong Zhongshu in this connection, she states that even “if the norm remains the usual measure, the expedient may have to serve in unusual situations” (Ching 2000: 214). Still, if pressed to tender it, then we would be forced to deem any definitive summation of Dong Zhongshu’s contributions by Zhu Xi as being ultimately mixed. This condition of feeling compelled to regard Dong Zhongshu at best ambiguously assuredly has its origins in Zhu Xi’s own committed perspectives (Chan 1987: 67). Yet, as was the case in so many other instances, Zhu’s evaluation seems thereafter to have become held in common by later generations of Neo-Confucians (Ng 2001: 106). The tenor of subsequent collective sentiment with regard to Dong Zhongshu’s thought is perhaps best articulated by the eminent Qian Mu 錢穆 (1895–1990), who once stated: Later individuals, upon observing his citations of the Six Classics and also his statement that “the correct Way does not plot for advantages, nor does brilliant rightness scheme for results,” have consequently esteemed Dong Zhongshu. However, Zhu Xi clearly referred to Dong Zhongshu’s case as being one of not having apprehended the great Way of the sages … [so] if we are discussing the vast preponderance of learning, then we must see Dong Zhongshu’s as being truly set apart from it in its relative importance. (Qian 2011: 636) 後人因見董仲舒表彰六經, 又取其「正道不謀利, 明義不計功」之語, 遂高拾仲 舒。然朱子明謂其不見聖人大道, … 若論學術大體, 則輕重固别有在。

So, on the one hand, Dong Zhongshu’s worldview became unavoidable for legions of later thinkers (Wang and Zhang 2005: 77). Yet, on the other hand, despite enjoying a popularity on par with its influence during its time, it nonetheless failed to become universally accepted either by other Han Confucians of his day or afterward or by Confucian-minded scholars of any subsequent era. After Dong Zhongshu, a newly emergent interpretive trend arose in connection with the canonical textual tradition itself. Before the fall of the Western Han in 9 BCE, a reaction had already arisen that favored a more rational and moralistic approach to the Confucian Classics (Nylan 1994: 83–97). It eventually developed into a movement known as the “Old Texts” (guwen jing 古文經) school. This school, claiming its own recensions of authentic classical texts allegedly rediscovered during the Han period and written in an “old,” archaic script predating the Qin unification of 221  BCE, became widely accepted with the reconstitution of the dynasty in the Eastern Han (25–220 CE) (Nylan 1994: 93–117). Among the many proponents of the “Old Texts” school, we must surely regard the philosopher, Yang Xiong 揚雄 (c. 53 BCE–18 CE), as being the most notable of the earliest Han representatives of that tradition. Scholars past and present regard him as having composed two extant—but radically dissimilar—works of enduring importance (Nylan 2003: 741–43). Exemplary Sayings (Fayan 法言) is a collection of moralistic aphorisms in the style of the Analects (Lunyu 論語) and, in presenting an alternative worldview, the Classic of Supreme Profundity (Taixuanjing 太玄經) is a numerological tract of cosmological speculation in the style of the Book of Changes (Nylan 2003: 741–43).

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However, his scholarly contributions notwithstanding, Yang Xiong was disparaged by Zhu Xi on account of his numerological proclivities and, unlike Dong Zhongshu, even his acceptance within the Confucian fold was dissimilar to Dong’s, with his reception being quite mixed. Moreover, as Michael Nylan argues, much of Zhu Xi’s distaste for Yang Xiong apparently derived from political instead of philosophical considerations. In Nylan’s view, probably more than anything else, politics—in the form of that Han philosopher’s perceived complicity with the infamous imperial usurper and ruler of the Xin dynasty (9–23  CE), Wang Mang 王莽 (c. 45 BCE–23 CE)—led Zhu Xi also to devalue any and all of Yang Xiong’s intellectual contributions. As a result, as Nylan states that Zhu “maligned [Yang’s] character, questioned the validity of his cosmological theories and views on human nature, and accused him of disloyally ‘serving two masters,’ Han and Xin” (Yang 2013: xviii; Nylan 2013: 261, 267). We must acknowledge that specifically with regard to his association with Wang Mang, Yang Xiong became subjected to brutal criticism by Zhu Xi (Chen 2016: 1–4). Interestingly, prior to Zhu’s intervention, Yang Xiong, much like Dong Zhongshu before him, despite some detractors during intervening Tang times, like the man-of-letters Liu Zongyuan 柳宗元 (773–819), had been held in reasonably high esteem (Yang 2013: xxix–xxx). Indeed, in the year 1068, a year after ascending to the throne, the Northern Song emperor Shenzong 神宗 (r. 1067–1085) had conferred upon Yang Xiong and Dong Zhongshu the distinction of being “the two noble epitomes (junzi 君子) of old who combined classical learning with a talent for writing”(Yang 2013: xxx). However, Michael Nylan contends that Zhu Xi was subsequently obsessed with eliminating any potential for Yang Xiong to emerge as the primary master of classical learning after Confucius and Mencius. Therefore, Zhu Xi leveled three main criticisms against Yang and his teachings. First, in addition to his disloyal complicity in supporting the Xin dynasty of Wang Mang over against that of Han, Zhu believed Yang Xiong to have compounded the transgression by claiming the statuses of “master” for himself and “classic” for his work the Classic of Supreme Profundity; as a result, Zhu made the entire corpus of Yang’s writings suspect. Next, Zhu believed Yang’s cosmology in general to be incorrect, requiring his own revision through intervention in order to distinguish its corporeal (qi 氣) aspects from its noncorporeal (li 理) ones. Finally, in Zhu’s opinion, despite having been an ardent defender of Mencius, Yang’s theory of human nature was anathema because it promoted the idea that it was in all cases a mixture of good and bad (Yang 2013: xxx–xxxi).

3 Conceivable Influence of Wang Chong 王充 Although its fullest extent is not assessable today, we can have little doubt that Zhu Xi was much influenced in his own appraisals of his Han Confucian predecessors by his assumed knowledge that these earlier individuals were often critics of one another (Henderson 1999: 108, 110–11, 113). As a critic of the philosophers of his

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own and earlier times, no one can be said to have surpassed the iconoclastic thinker, Wang Chong 王充 (27–97? CE). Wang himself epitomized “the post-classical Confucian as skeptic”; among his many targets critiqued in his famous Discourses Weighed in the Balance (Lunheng 論衡) had been none other than Dong Zhongshu (Fung 2009: 293; Loewe 2011: 35). Although it would attract few commentators before late imperial times, we can assure ourselves that Wang Chong’s only surviving complete work was well known and widely read by Zhu Xi’s time (Liu S. 1986: 529). Moreover, to the extent that he procured information on the Han directly from writers of that period, we may surmise that Zhu Xi was informed about Dong Zhongshu in some degree through Wang Chong because, of all the writers of the Eastern Han, no one refers more to Dong than does Wang (Loewe 2011: 337). Wang Chong’s points of dispute with Dong Zhongshu were numerous. However, taking a particular example, we may note that Dong had espoused what may be called a teleological theory of inductance or resonance (tianren ganying 天人感應), according to which humankind, especially in the form of the ruler, is just as capable of asserting its influence upon Heaven as Heaven is upon humankind (Fung 2009: 294–95). Without dismissing the idea of “correspondence in kind” altogether, Wang Chong nonetheless argued in favor of a more contained and restricted basis for this phenomenon that is devoid of the human factor, and that stems instead from the spontaneous, unmediated, and naturalistic processes of the vital force or qi of yin/yang. Moreover, Wang Chong reinforced even this restrictiveness concerning ganying with his own idea that not all phenomena are explainable through the notion of inducement via correspondence, stressing instead “that we have to observe the factual evidence and choose a positivist attitude to deal with the problem of inquiry” (Fung 2009: 294). Consequently, on the one hand, we find that Zhu Xi did assuredly admire Dong Zhongshu, even if that admiration was largely derived from attitudes toward the Han thinker bequeathed to him by those of the earlier Song, such as the brothers Cheng Hao 程顥 (1032–1085) and Cheng Yi (Loewe 2011: 74). However, on the other hand, Zhu Xi’s multiple references to inductance or resonance are more in alignment with the naturalistic bent promoted by Wang Chong than they are with Dong Zhongshu’s more teleological version. We find, for example, that Zhu Xi’s conclusions regarding the resemblance in form between lizards and dragons provides us with an excellent illustration of this preference for a more naturalistic in contradistinction to a teleological explanation. After subsuming both under the rubric of yin (yinshu 陰屬), Zhu states that these distinct species are caused to resemble each other in form precisely because of “this mutual resonance that exists between their constitutions (shi zhe qi xiang ganying 是這氣相感應)” (Zhu 1986: [2] 25). Thus, we must acknowledge that well before the time of Zhu Xi, and largely on the same grounds for objecting to and rejecting Dong’s perspective, there were those like Wang Chong, who simply did not share Dong Zhongshu’s opinion. Similarly, with regard to the existence or nonexistence of such paranormal phenomena as ghosts and spirits (guishen 鬼神), the scholar Guo Fangru 郭芳如 contends that the mental dispositions and explanatory approaches of Wang Chong and

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Zhu Xi, despite some obvious differences, evinced striking resemblances. Guo in fact concludes that: “The views on ghosts and spirits of both Wang Chong and Zhu Xi display categories of metaphysical discussion and, based on their reflections, they both responded to questions of religious belief, provided bases for the judgment of the existence of ghosts and spirits, and distinguished between—while simultaneously embracing—the pacifistic and the activist content of social education” (Guo 2016: 81). Yet, despite such a provocative suggestion of influence, in the end, we ultimately cannot ascertain beyond all doubt the extent to which Zhu Xi’s approach to knowledge acquisition was in any way owing to either the influence of Wang Chong or that of any other thinker of the Han. Nevertheless, despite the marked differences in the understanding of the world which led the earlier man into radical skepticism and the later one to endorse and promote a uniformly positivistic outlook, in Guo’s opinion, much more united Wang and Zhu in intellectual resonance than separated them.

4 Zhu Xi’s Responses to Tang Confucians: Han Yu 韓愈 and Li Ao 李翱 Without question, Zhu Xi forged an intellectual affinity with his predecessor Han Yu 韓愈 (768–824) that was stronger and more enduring than that formed with any other post-classical but pre-Song Confucian. Even when unsparingly critical of his ideas, Zhu Xi was consistently mindful of Han Yu’s status as a legitimate Neo-­ Confucian forerunner on a number of fronts, including the literary (Liu S. 1998: 161). Already by Song times, Han’s legacy as the leader of the movement in ancient prose (guwen 古文), whereby he had sought to revive and reinstall a clear and economical style of written expression that was reminiscent of that which had characterized the Western Han era, was sacrosanct. However, of all his writings, none was more significant in establishing Han Yu as one of the great philosophical minds within the movement in Confucian revitalization that began during Tang times than his brief but impactful essay “On the Origins of the Way” (Yuan dao 原道) (Dai 2009: 324–25; Quan 2009: 91–93; Zha 2010: 22–24). Certainly, to a large degree, Zhu, regarded Han as a precursor—that is, as a human template to be followed in the methodical reorganization of the Confucian revivification project that he himself was undertaking. Also prominent, if somewhat less well regarded than Han Yu among influences from Tang times that Zhu Xi drew upon, was Li Ao 李翱 (772–841). We need hardly doubt that Li Ao had come to Zhu Xi’s attention at least in part because of his intimate association with Han Yu, and by virtue of his having been at least briefly the older man’s student (Barrett 1992: 21–26). Nevertheless, possibly even more so in strictly philosophical than in relational realms, Han Yu had also contributed to the enlargement of the scope of the objective that Zhu Xi sought to achieve.

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In endeavoring to understand and appreciate the inherent magnitude of their contributions, we are aided in our efforts by the fact that Han Yu and Li Ao were such close associates. The two men first met and evidently commenced what would become an enduring relationship in the year 796—that is, at a point relatively early in life as well as in their philosophical careers (Barrett 1992: 66, 157). For this reason, despite the dissimilarities in proportionality and emphasis in what they conferred upon future generations, there is considerable justification for examining their joint influence exerted upon Zhu Xi—and, by extension, the Neo-Confucian movement as a whole. If there is any starting point we can look to for an insightful analysis of the effects of the ideas of Han Yu and Li Ao upon Zhu Xi, then we must surely designate it as having been their mutual esteem for Mencius. More so than any other factor, this reverence shared in common for Mencius serves as the foundation for the reputations of Han Yu and Li Ao as the purported Tang precursors of the mature Neo-Confucianism that was to emerge during the Song and afterward (Liu S. 1998: 113). Foremost among the Mencian concepts of importance on which Han and Li focused, and thereby again made central and pivotal to Confucian discourse, was that of human nature (xing 性). Yet, despite his veneration of his classical forbearer, with regard to the quality of human nature, Han Yu at least did not follow Mencius slavishly. Relying on alternative conventions developed during the Han dynastic era, he departed markedly from the Mencian notion of the uniform goodness of xing, and instead subscribed to and promoted a tripartite model, in which human nature is seen as existing in three discrete grades (pin 品)—good, intermediate, and bad (Graham 1986: 138). According to this interpretation, the intermediate grade is alterable and may be brought either to tend toward the good or the bad, whereas the latter two extremes are fixed and immutable. Han Yu furthermore placed these three types of human nature in opposition to a set of three identically differentiated grades of emotions or feelings (qing 情). Han thereupon enumerated five virtues or norms or constants (wu chang 五常) as composing the constituent elements of human nature—humaneness (ren 仁), justice (yi 義), propriety (li 禮), wisdom (zhi 智), and trustworthiness (xin 信)—and specified seven distinct emotions or feelings expressed by human nature (qi qing 七 情)—joy (xi 喜), anger (nu 怒), sorrow (ai 哀), fear (ju 懼), love (ai 愛), hate (wu 惡), and desire (yu 欲) (Hartman 1986: 205). Being more faithful than Han Yu to the original Mencian conception of human nature, even while simultaneously espousing the view of the inherent evilness of the emotions, Li Ao contended that human nature itself can only be unitary and good (Shun 2008: 262). However, we find that this theory of Li’s is also not his own invention, but instead one that is traceable wholesale back to the early Han period (Chan 1963: 457). We find Han Yu’s views on the subject of the normatively antagonistic interrelationship between human nature and the emotions in his essay titled “On the Origins of Human Nature” (Yuan xing 原性). It is a work frequently quoted yet, in the estimation of many scholars, it remains regarded as a subpar example of Han’s typically lucid exposition (Hartman 1986: 205). Customarily, readers have been afforded clarity on the many muddled points that “On the Origins of Human Nature” exhibits

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chiefly through the commentary on them provided by Zhu Xi (Hartman 1986: 205). Li Ao’s views are contained in his treatise “Recovering One’s Nature” (Fuxing shu 復性書), wherein it is advocated that one should return to and reclaim one’s true or original nature. Although the signature term comprising the title of his work is without any classical precedent, in the case of Li, the debt owed to Mencius could hardly be more overt (Barrett 1992: 88–94, 103). In this piece, Li clearly states that while one’s path to sagehood is achievable through human nature, one’s emotions are capable of impeding any and all progress by throwing the xing into states of confusion, hindering one’s development to the point of stymieing it altogether (Tang et al. 2003: 279). Zhu Xi, for his part, was loath to adopt in total either Han Yu’s or Li Ao’s position on the oppositional relationship between human nature and the emotions. However, we can confidently extrapolate that Zhu’s reflections on this matter were much influenced and shaped by the views of both Han and Li. This influence is revealed by virtue of the fact that, despite the longstanding association harking back to the classical tradition in which the term qing, typically understood as “feelings” or “emotions,” instead signifies the realness of actuality and that which is genuinely perceived to be the case, Zhu Xi developed and promoted a paradigm in which the emotions were construed as oppositional and antithetical to the fundamental goodness that is attributed to human nature or xing (Shun 2008: 266–67). In effect, Zhu accepted the basic premise immanent in the theories of Han and Li—just as it had been in those of Dong Zhongshu and Yang Xiong before them—that whereas the nature of humans is good, the emotions starkly contrast with it by being erroneously misleading or even morally bad (Ching 1986: 277–80). This general disparagement of the role of the emotions and elevation of that of human nature was to be replicated repeatedly in the writings of a succession of Confucian-minded thinkers both before and after Zhu Xi (Tang et al. 2003: 279; Liu Q. 2011: 124). We also learn much about the intellectual interconnection between Han Yu, Li Ao, and Zhu Xi by turning to consider their contributions to the development of the Neo-Confucian concept of a “transmission of the Way” (daotong), which—as a constructed lineage—was intended to establish an orthodox line of custodians, guardians, and disseminators of “the Confucian message.” Herein, the mutual admiration of Han Yu and Li Ao for Mencius again plays a critically functional role, because the notion of an authoritative transmission extends at least as far back as him (Liu S. 1986: 437). However, we must regard Han Yu as the most direct formulator of the version of daotong that was passed on to Zhu Xi (Chan 1963: 450). Key among its features was its inclusion of Mencius as the last legitimate transmitter of Confucian teachings prior to either Tang or Song times (Liu S. 2015: 184–85, 187–88). Li Ao also regarded Mencius as the lynchpin of the daotong, and the last Confucian exponent apart from possibly two of his disciples (Barrett 1992: 109). Interestingly, however, regardless of how much he might have appreciated what he had received from them both, Zhu Xi was disinclined to include either Han Yu or Li Ao in the rendition of the daotong that he constructed. He seems to have regarded Han Yu as perhaps having been mostly worthy of that honor, but still—for reasons that will likely never be fully discernible to us—having fallen short. As Zhu

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was to say of Han quite derisively, even using the message of his own composition, Yuan dao, against him: “Thus Han [Yu] Tuizhi was capable of discerning [the Way] in terms of the matter of its greater substance, and yet with regard to that of its functionality, he was, contrary to expectations, ignorant. As is the case in his ‘On the Origins of the Way,’ where he expresses the view that after Mencius there was no one, such then resembles his own capacity for discernment” (Zhu 1986: [137] 3255). Moreover, this unflattering valuation is all the more ironic in light of the praise Zhu Xi is elsewhere known to have extended to Han Yu, precisely with respect to his conception of the daotong, stating: Looking today at all of the various Confucians from the Han and Tang dynasties until now who have tried to explain the principle of the Way in history, we find that their [explanations] have been nothing more than explanatory dreams! Han [Yu] Wengong is the only one to have had an approximate but dim conception of what [the true explanation] is like. (Zhu 1986: [93] 2350) 今看來漢唐以下諸儒説道理見在史策者, 便直是説夢!只有箇韓文公依稀説得略 似耳。

However, the equivocalness that characterizes Zhu Xi’s estimation of Han Yu did not extend to Li Ao. In contrast to his at least sometimes laudatory views on Han Yu on the basis of his writings, Zhu Xi regarded, for example, Li Ao’s “Recovering One’s Nature” as excessively Buddhistic in tone and content. This appraisal led Zhu to regard Li himself as having been simply much too receptive to, if not possibly a covert adherent to, Buddhist beliefs (Barrett 1992: 28–29, 124–25, 129, 138, 149, 153). Finally, it would be remiss not to note the prominently polemical dimension of the influence Han Yu and, less forcefully, Li Ao brought to bear on Zhu Xi. Han Yu, in particular, is remembered for his strident and unabashed militancy as an opponent of especially Buddhism, but also Daoism. Despite the evidence of what was actually a conciliatory private stance, for he is known to have actually befriended Buddhists as well as Daoists, Han Yu was unremitting in publicly decrying their doctrines in practice (Barrett 1992: 21–23, 68, 132, 137). We certainly err if we elect to gloss over this particular aspect of the manner in which Han Yu executed his agenda. Indeed, as Yü Ying-shih has commented, “There are two inseparable and interrelated aspects of Han Yu’s breakthrough, namely, criticism of Buddhism (and Daoism) on the negative side and revival of the Confucian Dao on the positive side” (Yü 2016: 171). In the former project as well as the latter, Han Yu had arguably looked back for inspiration to the figure of Mencius, who—in the guise of the ardent and last true protector of the Confucian faith against all rivals—had insisted on defending “the supreme virtue of humaneness even at the cost of his life” (Dawson 1981: 62). Therefore, we should hardly be surprised that Mencius almost assuredly served as one of the prime uplifting role models for Han in the waging of his own struggle.

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5 Conclusion Ultimately, we can probably best appreciate the contributions of the Confucians of the Han and Tang dynasties to the meticulous program pursued by Zhu Xi from the standpoint of our own understanding of his motivations. We benefit from remembering that, despite the elaborateness and thoroughness of the reconceptualization of the Confucian project that he took on and arguably succeeded in achieving, Zhu Xi is unlikely to have ever thought of himself as creating something entirely new. Instead, Zhu was intent as well as insistent on retrieving and reintroducing others to what he believed to have been the core principles of the original Confucian message that had been lost well before his time. Therefore, Zhu Xi understandably was inclined to regard men like Dong Zhongshu and Han Yu, as well as a host of other interceding individuals, as essential prototypes in this comprehensive effort, their philosophical shortcomings notwithstanding. Despite his exclusion of them from the “transmission of the Way” and never overlooking their deficiencies or abandoning his ambivalence, Zhu nonetheless was capable at more than one point of openly revealing his conscious mindfulness of the indispensable continuum from Han to Tang that these thinkers formed, stating, for example, that: “As for the two men Yang [Xiong] Ziyun and Han [Yu] Tuizhi, we struggle when explaining their good points and their bad” (Zhu 1986: [137] 3261). Given all that was at stake, we may furthermore accurately envision Zhu Xi extending this attitude of ecumenical inclusiveness beyond such respectable-to-­ passable thinkers as Dong Zhongshu and Han Yu to the profusion of individuals comprising the multiform Confucian heritage. To be sure, we must construe, in historical hindsight, many of the views of those consigned to this category as having been closer than Zhu would have liked to the borderlines of acceptability. Nevertheless, our taking his critiques of those who preceded him in the most positive light and viewing the selectiveness of his approach to the intellectual fruits of the Confucian inheritance holistically affords us an enlightening insight about Zhu Xi at work. We can conclude that Zhu Xi, even in the midst of his scrutiny, did simultaneously recognize that, even with some major as well as minor flawed ideas, these men had all been located historically closer to the source of his own inspiration than he was.

References Barrett, Timothy H. 1992. Li Ao: Buddhist, Taoist, or Neo-Confucian?. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Chan, Wing-tsit. 1963. A Source Book in Chinese Philosophy. Princeton: Princeton University Press. ———. 1987. Chu Hsi: Life and Thought. Hong Kong/New York: The Chinese University Press; St. Martin’s Press. (Being an assemblage of the prestigious Ch’ien Mu (Qian Mu) 錢穆

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l­ ectures on history and culture delivered in 1984, as the first in what became numerous English-­ language treatments undertaking the scholarly integration of Zhu Xi’s life experience and his philosophy, this work stands as a lasting achievement.) Chen, Lundun 陳倫敦. 2016. “On Zhu Xi’s Critique of Yang Xiong’s Intentions 朱熹批判揚雄 意圖探析.” Journal of Wuyi University 武夷學院學報 35.2: 1–4. Cheng, Dennis Chi-hsiung. 2008. “Interpretations of Yang in the Yijing: Commentarial Traditions.” Journal of Chinese Philosophy 35.2: 219–34. Ching, Julia. 1986. “Chu Hsi on Personal Cultivation.” In Chan Wing-tsit, ed., Chu Hsi and Neo-­ Confucianism. Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press. ———. 2000. The Religious Thought of Chu Hsi. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Dai, Congxi 戴從喜. 2009. “Zhu Xi and the ‘Examination of Difference in the Works of Han Yu’ 朱子與《韓文考異》.” Journal of Shanghai Second Polytechnic University 上海第二工業大 學學報 26.4: 322–27. Dawson, Raymond. 1981. Confucius. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Dong, Zhongshu 董仲舒. 1927–1936. Luxuriant Gems of the Spring and Autumn Annals 春秋繁 露. SBBY 四部備要 ed. Shanghai 上海: Zhonghua Shuju 中華書局. ———. 2016. Luxuriant Gems of the Spring and Autumn, edited and translated by Sarah A. Queen and John S.  Major. New  York/Chichester: Columbia University Press. (The first complete English-language translation of the principal work attributed to Dong Zhongshu.) Fung, Yu-lan. 1976. A Short History of Chinese Philosophy: A Systematic Account of Chinese Thought from Its Origins to the Present Day, edited by Derk Bodde. New York: Free Press. Fung, Yiu-ming. 2009. “Philosophy in the Han Dynasty.” In Bo Mou, ed., History of Chinese Philosophy. London/New York: Routledge. Graham, Angus C. 1986. “What Was New in the Ch’eng–Chu Theory of Human Nature?” In Chan Wing-tsit, ed., Chu Hsi and Neo-Confucianism. Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press. Guo, Fangru 郭芳如. 2016. “A Critical Comparison between Wang Chong’s and Zhu Xi’s Notions of Ghost and Deities 王充與朱熹鬼神觀的比較.” Religious Philosophy 宗教哲學 77: 55–84. (Outstandingly insightful article that suggestively explicates elements of shared understanding between two superficially very different thinkers with respect to religiosity and the supernatural.) Hartman, Charles. 1986. Han Yü and the T’ang Search for Unity. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Henderson, John B. 1999. “Strategies in Neo-Confucian Heresiography.” In Chow Kai-wing, Ng On-cho, and John B. Henderson, eds., Imagining Boundaries: Changing Confucian Doctrines, Texts, and Hermeneutics. Albany: State University of New  York Press. (The only study to date that informatively apprises us of the often brutally determinative role within the Neo-­ Confucian intellectual tradition of claims of heresy leveled against past personages, whether Confucian or otherwise.) Huang, Siu-chi. 1999. Essentials of Neo-Confucianism: Eight Major Philosophers of the Song and Ming Periods. Westport/London: Greenwood Press. (Inclusive of the metaphysical assumptions and methodological premises of the major Neo-Confucian philosophers ranging from Zhou Dunyi 周敦頤 to Wang Yangming 王陽明, this survey remains one of the most accessible and balanced and yet penetratingly revealing compendiums available.) Liu, Qingping. 2011. “Emotionales in Confucianism and Daoism: A New Interpretation.” Journal of Chinese Philosophy 38.1: 118–33. Liu, Shu-hsien. 1986. “The Problem of Orthodoxy in Chu Hsi’s Philosophy.” In Chan Wing-tsit, ed., Chu Hsi and Neo-Confucianism. Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press. ———. 1998. Understanding Confucian Philosophy: Classical and Sung–Ming. Westport/ London: Praeger Publishers. ———. 2015. “On the Formation of Zhu Xi’s Spiritual World.” In David Jones and Jinli He, eds., Returning to Zhu Xi: Emerging Patterns within the Supreme Polarity. Albany: State University of New York Press.

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Loewe, Michael. 2011. Dong Zhongshu, A “Confucian” Heritage and the Chunqiu Fanlu. Leiden: Brill. (The most thorough and critical examination of the life as well as the writings of the philosopher to date.) Makeham, John. 2003. Transmitters and Creators: Chinese Commentators and Commentaries on the Analects. Cambridge, MA; London: Harvard University Asia Center, Harvard University Press. (Discusses only very briefly but quite convincingly the prospective motives behind Zhu Xi’s appropriation of the daotong 道統.) Ng, On-cho. 2001. Cheng–Zhu Confucianism in the Early Qing: Li Guangdi (1642–1718) and Qing Learning. Albany: State University of New York Press. Nylan, Michael. 1994. “The ‘Chin Wen/Ku Wen’ Controversy in Han Times.” T’oung Pao, Second Series, 80.1/3: 83–145. (Certainly the most in-depth presentation and analysis of the intricacies of this consequential dispute at the time of its inception.) ———. 2003. “Yang Xiong 揚雄 (53 BCE–18 CE).” In Xinzhong Yao, ed., vol. 2 of RoutledgeCurzon Encyclopedia of Confucianism, 2 vols. London/New York: RoutledgeCurzon. ———. 2013. “Yang Xiong’s 揚雄 Final Fayan 法言 Chapter: Rhetoric to What End and for Whom?” In Garret P. S. Olberding, ed., Facing the Monarch: Modes of Advice in the Early Chinese Court. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Asia Center. Qian, Mu 錢穆. 2011. “Zhu Xi’s Commentary on the Historical Successors of the School of Confucius Supplemented with His Discussions of Laozi and Zhuangzi 朱子評述孔門以下歷 代諸儒並附其論老莊.” In Qian Mu 錢穆, ed., vol. 3 of New Case Studies on Zhu Xi 朱子新 學案. Beijing 北京: Jiuzhou Chubanshe 九州出版社. (Although originally published in 1971, this chapter essay still offers perhaps the most illuminating exposure to Zhu Xi’s views on the followers of Confucius up to his own time.) Quan, Huajun 全華淩. 2009. “On Zhu Xi’s Research on Han Yu 論朱熹的韓愈研究.” Chuanshan Journal 船山學刊 4.74: 91–94. Schwartz, Benjamin I. 1985. The World of Thought in Ancient China. Cambridge, MA/London: Belknap Press of Harvard University Press. Shun, Kwong-loi. 2008. “Wholeness in Confucian Thought: Zhu Xi on Cheng, Zhong, Xin, and Jing.” In Ng On-cho, ed., The Imperative of Understanding: Chinese Philosophy, Comparative Philosophy, and Onto-Hermeneutics. New York: Global Scholarly Publications. Slingerland, Edward. 2009. “Classical Confucianism (I): Confucius and the Lun-Yü.” In Bo Mou, ed., History of Chinese Philosophy. London/New York: Routledge. Tang, Yijie, Brian Bruya, and Wen Hai-ming. 2003. “Emotion in Pre-Qin Ruist Moral Theory: An Explanation of ‘Dao Begins in Qing.’” Philosophy East and West 53.2: 271–81. Thompson, Kirill O. 2015. “Opposition and Complementarity in Zhu Xi’s Thought.” In David Jones and Jinli He, eds., Returning to Zhu Xi: Emerging Patterns within the Supreme Polarity. Albany: State University of New York Press. (This chapter essay focuses on the operational vocabulary of Zhu Xi’s moral metaphysics, making the persuasive claim for the containment of even terms that appear superficially to be in oppositional tension within an organic holism.) Wang, Bing 王兵, and Zhang Xiao 張霄. 2005. “Two Banners in the History of the Development of Confucianism—A Comparative Study of Dong Zhongshu and Zhu Xi’s Ethics 儒學發展史 上的兩面旗幟—董仲舒、朱熹倫理思想比較研究.” Journal of Xuzhou Education College 徐州教育學院學報 20.1: 76–81. Wei, Cheng-t’ung. 1986. “Chu Hsi on the Standard and the Expedient” In Chan Wing-tsit, ed., Chu Hsi and Neo-Confucianism. Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press. Yang, Xiong. 2013. Exemplary Figures: Fayan, translated by Michael Nylan. Seattle: University of Washington Press. Yü, Ying-shih. 2016. Chinese History and Culture: Sixth Century B.C.E. to Seventeenth Century, Vol. 1. New York: Columbia University Press. Zha, Jinping 查金萍. 2010. “Comment on Zhu Xi’s Acceptation of Han Yu 論朱熹對韓愈的接 受.” Journal of Hefei University (Social Sciences) 合肥學院學報 (社會科學版) 27.4: 21–24.

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Zhu, Xi 朱熹. 1986. Classified Conversations of Master Zhu 朱子語類, edited by Li Jingde 黎 靖德, Wang Xingxian 王星賢. Beijing 北京: Zhonghua Shuju 中華書局; Xinhua Shudian Beijing Faxingsuo 新華書店北京發行所. ———. 2000. Collected Works of Zhu Xi 朱子文集, edited by Chen Junmin 陳俊民. Taipei 臺北: Defu guji congkan 德富古籍叢刊. Don J. Wyatt (PhD Harvard University) is currently John M. McCardell, Jr. distinguished professor at the Department of History and director of East Asian Studies for the Program in International and Global Studies at Middlebury College, Vermont, USA. Included among the foci of his research and scholarship is the investigation of major points of convergence and divergence within Chinese thought generally, but especially scrutiny of those which are construed as existing between the classical and the post-classical Confucian traditions.  

Chapter 8

Zhu Xi and the Five Masters of Northern Song Kai-chiu Ng

1 Introduction In the history of philosophy, it is not novel that even the most original thinkers, such as the founders of various schools of thoughts, still bear the ideological elements of some antecedent thinkers. In other words, regardless of how avant-garde their thinking is and the outstanding qualities of their philosophical breakthroughs, to a certain extent, they are still synthesizers. Taking Zhu Xi 朱熹 (1130–1200) as one of the prominent examples, what he achieved is the most influential synthesis throughout the history of traditional Chinese philosophy. Zhu Xi’s synthesis can be interpreted from a number of perspectives. Focusing on his interpretation of the Confucian classics, we see how Zhu Xi synthesized the Four Books into a coherent philosophical system.1 From the perspective of comparative philosophy, we can examine his assimilation of Daoism and Buddhism into Confucianism.2 With reference to the historical development of Confucianism, we can explore his relationship with Pre-Qin, Han, and Tang Confucians.3 This chapter focuses on a different aspect of Zhu Xi’s synthesis: the ideological semblances between him and his immediate forerunners, namely Zhou Dunyi 周敦 1  For details, please see Chap. 4 of this volume: Tze-ki Hon, “Zhu Xi’s Four Books: The Locus Classicus of a New Confucian Philosophy.” 2  For details, please see Chaps. 28 and 29 of this volume: Kam-por Yu, “Zhu Xi and Buddhism” and James D. Sellmann, “Zhu Xi and Daoism: Investigation of Inner-Meditative Alchemy in Zhu Xi’s Theory and Method for the Attainment of Sagehood.” 3  For details, please see Chaps. 6 and 7 of this volume: Don J.  Wyatt, “Zhu Xi and Pre-Qin Confucianism” and Don J. Wyatt, “Zhu Xi and the Han–Tang Confucians.”

K.-c. Ng (*) Department of Philosophy, The Chinese University of Hong Kong, Hong Kong, People’s Republic of China e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2020 K.-c. Ng, Y. Huang (eds.), Dao Companion to ZHU Xi’s Philosophy, Dao Companions to Chinese Philosophy 13, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-29175-4_8

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頤 (1017–1073), Shao Yong 邵雍 (1011–1077), Zhang Zai 張載 (1020–1077), and the Cheng Brothers—Cheng Hao 程顥 (1032–1085) and Cheng Yi 程頤 (1033–1107). Through studying the relationship between these “Five Masters of Northern Song” (Beisong wuzi 北宋五子) and Zhu Xi, not only can we understand what the Five Masters’ intellectual remarks are, but also how they consistently appeared in Zhu Xi’s teachings. To briefly summarize, “what” are the core beliefs imprinted in his school of thought, I will point out the major concepts or propositions of the Five Masters adopted by Zhu Xi, so as to construct his own philosophical views. As for the “how,” attention will be drawn to the way that Zhu Xi interpreted these concepts or propositions. It is important to note that the expression “Zhu Xi’s way of interpretation” implies that these concepts or propositions, interpreted and adopted by Zhu Xi in his philosophical system, may not fully retain their original meanings. For examples, Zhou Dunyi’s Taiji 太極, Zhang Zai’s “the mind/heart connects human nature and feelings (xin tong xing qing 心統性情),” and Cheng Yi’s “‘Conservation and nourishing’ (hanyang 涵養) requires seriousness (jing 敬).” Consequently, it would be sensible to name Zhu Xi a “creative synthesizer.” Moreover, I will argue that among the Five Masters, whoever clearly conceived and presented a “li–qi 理氣 dualism” (a metaphysical–physical two-tiered ontology) would deserve Zhu Xi’s higher praise. However, prior to the analysis, this chapter needs to address an important question: why were there “Five Masters” in the Northern Song dynasty?

2 Why Five? It has been widely accepted that the most representative Neo-Confucian philosophers in the Northern Song dynasty were the five aforementioned scholars. While they were often being referred to as a group, we should in fact question if they were intentionally grouped together as a unit by Zhu Xi, much like the Four Books, which consist of the Analects (Lunyu 論語), Mencius (Mengzi 孟子), the Great Learning (Daxue 大學),4 and the Doctrine of the Mean (Zhongyong 中庸).5 In this regard, it is important to note that in various occasions, Zhu Xi has referred to only two, three, or four of these scholars as a group. Even when he

 The Great Learning is a common English title of Daxue. Recently, Ian Johnston and Wang Ping’s translation differentiated Zheng Xuan’s 鄭玄 (127–220) version from Zhu Xi’s, rendered the former as The Highest Learning (Taixue 太學) and the latter as The Greater Learning (Daxue 大 學). See Johnston and Wang (2012). 5  Again, the Doctrine of the Mean is only a common English title of Zhongyong. Other choices include The Central and Constant and Maintaining Perfect Balance. See Johnston and Wang (2012) and Gardner (2007) respectively. I especially appreciate Gardner’s choice, Maintaining Perfect Balance, which grasps the theme of Zhongyong very well, at least according to Zhu Xi’s version. 4

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­ entioned the five scholars together, he did so while still mentioning another predem cessor of the Northern Song along with them. Therefore, it can be concluded that this grouping of five was not initiated by Zhu Xi. In his “Preface to the Commentary on Daxue” (Daxue zhangju xu 大學章句序), Zhu Xi said that, Heaven revolves, ever rotating; nothing departs that does not return. The virtue of the Song period flourished; good order and teaching prospered again. From this, the two Henan Masters, the Cheng brothers, emerged to continue the transmission of Mencius. (Johnston and Wang 2012: 131. Emphasis added)

In his “Preface to the Commentary on Zhongyong” (Zhongyong zhangju xu 中庸章 句序), he also said that, Among all the writings of the former sages, as guides to the main principles and revealing the details of the many mysteries, none has the clarity and the completeness of this one (the Zhongyong). From this, the transmission was again taken up by Mencius, who was able to elaborate on and clarify this book in order to continue the line of the former sages. But after he died, this transmission was subsequently lost. Then what our Way relied on was confined to the interpretations of words and writings. Heterodox doctrines increased by day and month to the point where followers of Laozi and the Buddha came forth—men whose principles were very similar, and so greatly confused the true [teaching]. However, by good fortune, this book was not destroyed and the brothers Cheng, the elder and the younger, emerged and were able to get hold of it and examine it so as to continue the thread of what had not been transmitted for a thousand years. But by apprehending what they received, they used this to drive out the seemingly similar errors of the two schools. (Johnston and Wang 2012: 403–5, with slight modification. Emphasis added)

The above two passages, dated in the same year (1189), clearly show that “the two Masters Cheng of Henan” (Henan Chengshi liangfuzi 河南程氏兩夫子) or “the elder and younger Masters Cheng” (Cheng fuzi xiongdi 程夫子兄弟) were the most important Northern Song philosophers to Zhu Xi. This justification most certainly stemmed from his idea of “the succession of the Way” (daotong 道統), which indicated the successive understanding, presentation, and teaching of the Way from the ancient sage kings, such as Yao 堯 and Shun 舜, to those who could not attain their proper political positions, namely Confucius and Mencius.6 This succession, however, broke off after the death of Mencius. It was the Cheng brothers—Cheng Hao and Cheng Yi—who continued the tradition after a thousand years. Significantly, here in the context of discussing daotong, Zhu Xi only referred to those two masters from the Northern Song dynasty, rather than the five. However, alternative accounts of the Northern Song were offered in other existing literature. Some evidence shows that in Zhu Xi’s daotong, there was another figure that has succeeded in renewing the interrupted Way before Masters Cheng. In his “On the Three Gentlemen Temple of the County College of Mou Yuen, Mou Zhou’’ (Wuzhou wuyuan xianxue sanxiansheng ciji 婺州婺源縣學三先生祠記) (1181), Zhu Xi claimed that Zhou Dunyi’s thoguht conformed with the Way that was transmitted by the ancient sages, and was subsequently conveyed further by the  The way (Dao 道) means the true way everyone under the Heaven should follow.

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Cheng brothers (Zhu 2010: 3760). In “On Gentleman Lianxi’s [Zhou Dunyi’s sobriquet] Temple of the Prefecture College of Shaozhou’’ (Shaozhou zhouxue lianxi xiansheng ciji 韶州州學濂溪先生祠記) (1183), he held that the coming of Zhou Dunyi made the Heavenly Principle (or the Ultimate Truth, tianli 天理) more conceivable, and so restored the succession of daoxue 道學 (the study of the Way). He even claimed that Zhou’s contribution was greater than every single Confucian thinker after Mencius (Zhu 2010: 3768–69). Furthermore, in the “Epilogue to Master Zhou’s Penetrating the Scripture of Changes’’ (Zhouzi tongshu houji 周子 通書後記) (1187), he stated that, Penetrating the Scripture of Changes (Tongshu 通書) is written by Master Lianxi. Since he was young, the Master was known by the public for his scholarship and conduct, while the transmission of his teachings remained unknown. It is only clear that the two Masters Cheng of Henan were once taught by him, and by this means were hence indoctrinated in the orthodoxy of Confucius and Mencius, which had broken off [for a long time]. We can therefore roughly know about his affiliation. (Zhu 2010: 3856. Emphasis added)

It is worth mentioning this apparent inconsistency in Zhu Xi’s judgement regarding the premier followers of Mencius. While sometimes it was the Chengs who directly followed Mencius in daotong, at other times, it was Zhou Dunyi who followed Mencius and so passed on the Way or the orthodoxy onto them. According to Qian Mu 錢穆 (1895–1990), this inconsistency has been questioned already in the Ming dynasty (Qian 2011, vol.3: 90).7 Yet, what is more important is Zhu Xi’s categorization: in the context of daotong, regardless of the number of masters in the Northern Song dynasty, we do not see a group of “Five Masters.” I have already indicated above that it is also possible to find a grouping of four in other parts of Zhu Xi’s corpus. In the first philosophical anthology of China, Reflections on Things at Hand (Jinsilu 近思錄), co-edited by Zhu Xi and Lü Zuqian 呂祖謙 (1137–1181), the editors selected and classified four masters’ words together. In addition to the three Confucians previously mentioned, Zhang Zai is the fourth selected predecessor. In the book, every chapter is arranged in the same pattern: Zhou Dunyi’s words came first, followed by the Cheng brothers’, and finally Zhang Zai’s words. One might argue that Zhang Zai should be prioritized over the Cheng brothers because he was older than them. However, according to Wing-tsit Chan 陳榮捷 (1901–1994), it should be their significance to the transmission of the Way that should be accounted for, rather than their ages. That is to say, as Zhou Dunyi represented the start of Neo-Confucianism, he was therefore followed by the Chengs who represented the establishment of the school. And Zhang Zai was put in the final position because what he made were mainly complimentary contributions, rather than presenting groundbreaking theories (Chan 1988: 126). Chan’s view resonates with the fact that Zhu Xi never included Zhang Zai in daotong (for details, please refer to Sect. 4 below). However, the fact that Zhang was a “non-member” did not affect his overall significance. As Zhu Xi explained, “While the Four Books  For more details of Zhu Xi’s elevating Zhou Dunyi as a crucial member of daotong, please also see Qian (2011), vol.3: 58–91. 7

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are the stairway to the Six Classics, Reflections on Things at Hand is the stairway to the Four Books” (Zhu 1994a: 2629). In this context, we can speak justifiably of four masters from the Northern Song. As for the remaining scholar, Shao Yong, he was regarded by Zhu Xi as an outsider that did not belong to orthodox Confucianism. Wing-tsit Chan clarified his point, “While people who talk about Neo-Confucianism often speak of the Five Masters of Northern Song, Shao Yong’s sayings are not collected in Reflections on Things at Hand. The main reason lies solely in Zhu Xi’s view that Shao Yong does not belong to the Confucian orthodoxy” (Chan 1988: 126). In Sect. 4, we will show that Chan’s understanding of Zhu Xi’s views on Shao Yong can be substantiated by the synthesizer’s own words. Yet at this point, all we need to know is that the grouping of the “Five Masters” was left incomplete in the hands of Zhu Xi. Even though Zhu Xi did occasionally praise the five together, they were nevertheless mentioned along with another predecessor from the Northern Song. For example, Zhu Xi had an article called “In Praise of the Portraits of Six Gentlemen” (Liuxiansheng huaxiang zan 六先生畫像贊) (Zhu 2010: 4001–3). These six gentlemen were the “Five Masters” and Sima Guang 司馬光 (1019–1086). According to Qian Mu, Zhu Xi often praised these six predecessors, among all other Northern Song Confucians (Qian 2011, vol. 3: 57). Even though this is the case, it is not an adequate piece of evidence for showing that Zhu Xi invented the group of the “Five Masters.” Up to this point, we still have two unanswered questions. Firstly, where does the group of the “Five Masters of Northern Song” originate from? Secondly, and more importantly, is it still sensible to examine the linkage between Zhu Xi and the group, given that he did not create the group himself? To answer the first question, we should draw upon two critical texts, one of them being found in the History of the Song (Songshi 宋史). Here we discover a unique historical record that contains a collective biography of the scholars who studied and spread the Way (Daoxue liezhuan 道學列傳). It explicitly treated the five men as representatives of Neo-Confucianism before Zhu Xi, even though it did not use the term “Five Masters.” The other source is Scholarly Records of the Song and Yuan Dynasties (Song yuan xue’an 宋元學案). In the chapter on Shao Yong, Huang Baijia 黃百家 (1643–1709) noted that “not only did the five masters—Zhou, The Chengs, Zhang, and Shao—appear in the same era, they also knew about each other and had good spiritual relationships. This can be seen as a remarkable sign, like the consequence of the five-planet conjunction.” Here we can finally identify how the importance of this grouping of the five masters come: In this account the synchronicity and the close friendships of the five philosophers were compared with the astronomical phenomenon that occurred in the early period of the Northern Song— the conjunction of Mercury, Mars, Jupiter, Venus, and Saturn. In this way, these texts mythicized or sanctified the emergence of Neo-Confucianism. As for the second question, it can be argued that even if Zhu Xi did not invent the term “Five Masters,” it is still worth examining his philosophical claims in relation to these five philosophers. Returning to Qian Mu’s comments on the “Six Gentlemen,” they were, in Zhu Xi’s perspective, the most significant figures among

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all of the Northern Song Confucians. Within this group, if we set aside the historian, Sima Guang, all the others known as the Five Masters are philosophers. Therefore, if we want to know how Zhu Xi digested, absorbed, and “creatively interpreted” the philosophical heritage of the Northern Song, these Five Masters are certainly the most appropriate representatives.

3 Zhou Dunyi in Zhu Xi and the Criterion of Evaluation With reference to previous historical records, Zhou Dunyi, as a secluded philosopher, had relatively little impact on the contemporary intellectual world. And the “school of daoxue” only became more prominent during the Cheng brothers’ period. It indicated that the significance of Zhou in Confucianism and his “membership” of daotong were more likely to be fabricated, rather than inherent. Zhu Xi undoubtedly played a crucial role in promoting Zhou’s academic recognition and daotong membership but he was not the first to do so. As commented by Hu Hong 胡宏 (1106–1161), Zhou “inspired the Cheng brothers with untransmitted scholarship and wisdom (buchuanzhixu 不傳之學) (see his “Preface to Master Zhou’s Penetrating the Scripture of Change” [Zhouzi tongshu xu 周子通書序]). However, Zhou’s recognition should be accredited to Zhu Xi, who provided a philosophical justification for Zhou’s success. And this justification served as an important criterion that determined Zhu’s evaluations of the Five Masters. In his “Epilogue of Master Zhou’s Penetrating the Scripture of Change” as mentioned in Sect. 2, Zhu Xi succinctly presented his understanding of the basic structure of Zhou Dunyi’s ontology: “one li, two qi, five elements” (Yili erqi wuxing 一 理二氣五行) (Zhu 2010: 3857). While Zhu Xi’s li is commonly known as “principle” or “pattern” (and sometimes “reason” or “coherence”), in the sentence “one li, two qi, five elements” li should be interpreted as the concept of a metaphysical substance that functions as the ontological ground of things. This denotes that “li” can make anything exist and nothing can exist without it. In Zhu Xi’s Classified Sayings (Zhuzi yülei 朱子語類), Zhu Xi said, “Before the existence of heaven and earth, there was simply li. As there was li, there was heaven and earth. If there hadn’t been li, there’d be no heaven and earth, no people, no things. There’d be nothing at all to sustain them. When there’s li, there’s qi; it circulates everywhere, developing and nourishing the ten thousand things.” Someone said, “Is it li that does the developing and nourishing?” Zhu replied, “When there’s this li, there’s this qi that circulates everywhere, developing and nourishing things. Li has no physical form.” (Zhu 1994a: 1; see Gardner 1990: 91) Someone asked, “Which exists first, li or qi?” Zhu replied, “Li has never been separated from qi. But li is above form and qi is within form. From the point of view of what is above and what is within form, how can there possibly be no sequence? Li has no form, while qi is coarse and contains impurities.” (Zhu 1994a: 3; Gardner 1990: 91, slightly modified)8

 The two block quotes are from Gardner (1990: 91), with my slight modification. In Gardner’s translation, li and qi are translated as “principle” and “psychophysical stuff” respectively. I adopt his translation here for these two quotes, but leave the two concepts, i.e., li and qi, untranslated. 8

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On one hand, even though Zhu Xi stated that qi “develops and nourishes things,” li is still necessary for the existence of heaven and earth, people, and things, as he held that li is “above form” (xing er shang 形而上) while qi is “within form” (xing er xia 形而下). This indicates that li is the transcendental or non-empirical substance. Therefore, rather than materially creating things in a physical sense, it guarantees their existence in a metaphysical sense instead. On the other hand, qi, being said to be “within form,” can be interpreted as a physical substance. Zhu Xi claimed that no humans, plants, and animals “between heaven and earth” can be born without “seeds” (zhong 種 or zhongzi 種子), which refers to qi (Zhu 1994a: 3). With this analogy, it justifies the classification of qi as “material.” However, Tiwald and Van Norden maintained that “qi is unlike matter as conceived of by classical physics in that it is self-generating and self-moving; … As Benjamin Schwartz noted, the closest Western equivalent is perhaps the apeiron, the “boundless,” referred to by the pre-Socratic philosopher Anaximander” (Tiwald and Van Norden 2014: 171). Therefore, we should refrain from equating qi with matter, regardless of its similar materialistic nature to atoms, because of their different ways of forming and creating things. While atoms “develop and nourish things” through “stacking” and these things are called “accumulations,” Zhu Xi described that qi does so by congelation (ning jie 凝結, ning jü 凝聚, jie jü 結聚; See Zhu 1994a: [1]) and the end product can be seen as “condensed qi.” Though the explanation above provided a simple account of “material development,” it in fact entails a more complex concept. To elaborate, the process of congelation requires a further step of creation called the “intermixing.” This involves the concept of the “five elements”: wood, fire, earth, metal, and water. These elements, to Zhu Xi, are the result of the initial congelation of qi. And subsequently, they intermix with each other and with the “two qi,” namely yin 陰 and yang 陽, so as to form a myriad of things (Zhu 1994a: 3). Yin qi and yang qi are two traditional concepts that theoretically explain the diversity and transformation of things. For example, while hot and cold climates are related to yang and yin respectively, seasonal change (from summer to winter, and vice versa) is a result of the interactions between the two qi. Although Zhu Xi’s theory does not confirm whether the two qi belong to a primal qi, such as yuanqi 元氣, it is certain that he laid out a conceptual framework, li–qi 理氣 dualism (a metaphysical–physical two-tiered ontology), to explain the existence of beings. It holds that while qi undertakes actual creation (material development), li functions as the transcendental ground of the existence of all things. In addition, this framework represents how Zhu Xi interpreted Zhou Dunyi’s ontology, “one li, two qi, five elements.” For Zhu, it was this theory of dualism that explained the recognition of Zhou. Therefore, “whether this dualism is adopted or clearly expressed” serves as the criterion for Zhu to evaluate each of the Five Masters, as further detailed in the following sections. Zhu Xi claimed that the theme of “one li, two qi, five elements” was precisely laid out in Zhou Dunyi’s original texts, though the validity of such claim is still questionable. In Zhou’s two main philosophical texts, Penetrating the Scripture of Changes (Tongshu 通書) and Discussion of the Supreme Polarity Diagram (Taijitu shuo 太極圖說), they both include the terms “yin,” “yang,” “two qi,” and “five

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e­ lements” (or “five phases,” wuxin 五行). In Chaps. 16 and 22 of the first text, Tongshu, it states that “the Five Phases are yin and yang. Yin and yang are the Supreme Polarity” (Adler 2014: 211) and “the two [modes of] qi and the five phases transform and generate the myriad things. The five differentiae are the two realities, and the two are fundamentally one” (Adler 2014: 213). As for the second text, Taijitu shuo, it denoted that “the Five Phases are the unitary yin and yang; yin and yang are the unitary Supreme Polarity; the Supreme Polarity is fundamentally Nonpolar” (Adler 2014: 168). As for the term “li,” while it indeed appeared several times in Tongshu (instead of Taijitu shuo), Zhou Dunyi did not group it together with “two qi” and “five elements (phases).” It is uncertain whether Zhou intended to denote a metaphysical substance by the concept “li.” By relating “li” to the concept of “Supreme Polarity” (Taiji 太極), Zhu Xi played his trump card to justify his own interpretation of Zhou’s ontology, “one [metaphysical] li, two [physical] qi, and five [physical] elements.” He claimed that “Taiji is nothing but the li of heaven and earth and myriad things” (Zhu 1994a: 1) and “Taiji is just the word ‘li’” (Zhu 1994a: 2). By this logic, the direct quote from Taijitu shuo—“the Five Phases are the unitary yin and yang; yin and yang are the unitary Supreme Polarity”—can therefore be interpreted as a representation of a two-tiered ontology. In the meanwhile, when Zhou Dunyi also said in Taijitu shuo that “the Supreme Polarity is fundamentally Nonpolar (Wuji 無極)” and “Nonpolar and yet Supreme Polarity (Wuji er Taiji 無極而太極)” (Adler 2014: 168), it was hinted that Wuji ranked above Taiji. The “one–two–five structure” was therefore threatened because the genuine structure presented by Zhou could then be “one (Wuji)–one (Taiji)–two–five.” Zhu Xi addressed this issue by redefining the meaning of Wuji. As “wu 無” simply means “no,” he regarded Wuji as a sole expression that stressed Taiji’s formlessness and shapelessness, instead of an independent being outside of Taiji. He held that, “It is not that there is nonpolarity outside of the Supreme Polarity.” “Calling it ‘nonpolar (wuji)’ correctly clarifies its nonspatial form.” (Adler 2014: 170–71, in “Commentary on the Discussion of the Supreme Polarity Diagram” [Taiji tushuo jie 太極圖說解]). “As for ‘wuji er taiji,’ fearing that people would consider taiji to be a thing with form and shape, [Master Zhou] also said wuji to say that it is simply principle” (Zhu 1994a: 2365; Adler 2014: 172). “Taiji has no place, no form, no position where it can be put… . This is why Master Zhou only spoke of it [taiji] in terms of wuji (It lacks form but has principle.)” (Zhu 1994a: 2369; Adler 2014: 173). By studying Wuji this way, not only could Zhu Xi maintain the “one–two–five structure” by pinpointing that Wuji is not ontologically independent from Taiji, but he also strengthened and confirmed the metaphysical identity (li) of Taiji by emphasizing its formlessness.9 It is almost certain that Zhu Xi skillfully transformed a challenge into a support.

 Or we can even say, for Zhu Xi, Wuji and Taiji (li) are two sides of the same coin, as he sometimes directly identifies Wuji with li. For example, “Wuji is li, the two and five are qi.” (Zhu 1994a: 2379) 9

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Indeed, there is textual evidence for Zhu Xi to disregard Wuji as an independent being outside of Taiji. When Taijitu shuo stated that “the reality of Nonpolarity and the essence of the Two [Modes] and Five [Phases] mysteriously combine and coalesce,” (Adler 2014:168) the term “Taiji” therefore becomes replaceable by “Wuji,” implying that they are sharing the same denotation (for Zhu Xi, it is li). However, the problem with Zhu Xi’s interpretation is that we cannot clearly construe Zhou Dunyi’s Taiji as the metaphysical substance, li. Contrasting Zhou’s term “Taiji” with the Cheng brothers’ term “li,” Joseph Adler quoted from A. C. Graham, contending that “both words refer to a ‘one’ behind the ‘many’ but to call it the Supreme Ultimate [taiji] implies that all things come from the same source, being produced by the division of a primal unit; to call it li, that they are united by a single principle running through them, from which one can infer from the known to the unknown… . The philosophy of the Chengs is not a development of that of Zhou Dunyi; it is based on quite different premises” (Graham 1958:160, 162; quoted in Adler 2014: 69). Adler then contested that “according to Graham, the equation of taiji and li is a category mistake. Taiji belongs to the discourse of cosmology, or the ‘physical’ (xing’er xia 形而下) realm; li is a ‘metaphysical’ (xing’er shang 形而上) term” (Adler 2014: 69). Simply put, Taiji, though lacking a first-hand clarification from Zhou Dunyi, is not necessarily a metaphysical substance but possibly a physical matter. In fact, Chen Lai 陳來 has pointed out that, scholars in the Han and Tang dynasties, and even the early Northern Song dynasty, consistently interpreted Taiji as “primal qi” (yuanqi 元氣), after its early appearance in the Commentary to the Book of Change (Yizhuan 易傳). To be specific, it was construed as the mixed-as-one or chaotic qi which existed before the division of heaven and earth (Chen 2003:39). As for Zhou Dunyi’s belief of “Wuji er Taiji,” Chen explained that “Taiji refers to the undivided and infinite primal material, and Wuji refers to the chaotic infinite. Taiji, as the primal material, is formless and limitless. And this is what it means by ‘Wuji er Taiji’” (Chen 2003: 39). In Zhou Dunyi’s ontology, the concept of metaphysical substance was hardly mentioned, while the material qi (including the primal qi and the subordinate qi of yin yang) was widely discussed, Chen thus categorized it as a “qi-monism” (qi yiyuanlun 氣一元論), as opposed to Zhu Xi’s li–qi dualistic interpretation (Chen 2003: 40). In my opinion, this interpretation of monism can be justified by Taijitu shuo. When Zhou Dunyi referred to “the Five Phases yi 一 (Adler translates “yi” as “are the unitary”) yin and yang; yin and yang yi Supreme Polarity,” it was suggested that the three parties, namely the five elements (or phases), yin yang, and Taiji, are related at the same level and they represent the three stages of the empirical cosmological process. Indeed, if Taiji is a metaphysical substance, which belongs to a different level from the two other physical parties, it is perplexing why Zhou did not directly claim that the five elements “yi Supreme Polarity” but claimed instead that “yin yang yi Supreme Polarity,” implicating yin yang as the medium between the five elements and Taiji. It should be borne in mind that a metaphysical substance, like God, can directly interact with any empirical objects (such as the five elements) and it does not require any other empirical object (such as yin yang) as a bridge. I

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therefore contend that the three parties are homogeneous and I agree with Graham’s view that “there is nothing in the Discussion of the Chart [Taijitu shuo] to suggest that there is any difference in kind between the Supreme Ultimate producing the Yin and Yang and the Yin and Yang producing the five elements. The Supreme Ultimate ought by analogy to be the original undivided ether [qi]” (Graham 1958: 163; quoted in Adler 2014: 69). To conclude, this section has answered the two questions raised in the beginning: what exists and how it is so. For the former, it is apparent that Zhu Xi adopted the concept of Taiji from Zhou Dunyi. As for the latter, Zhu is found to be creatively interpreting this concept as li—a transcendental substance—hence constructing Zhou’s thought as a metaphysical–physical two-tiered ontology. While his interpretation is problematic, the crucial idea has already been conveyed in his promotion of Zhou as a member of daotong and a pioneer of Neo-Confucianism. This idea is that whoever accepts and clearly presents the two-tiered ontology was regarded by Zhu as a great orthodox Confucian philosopher.

4 Shao Yong and Zhang Zai: Predecessors outside Daotong This section will be focusing on Shao Yong and Zhang Zai instead, the two of the Five Masters who were not admitted by Zhu Xi as members of daotong.10 Zhu Xi simply rejected them due to their inaccurate interpretation of the two-tiered ontology; especially for Shao who possibly did not even adopt this ontology. In discussing Shao Yong’s thought, it is important to take note of a crucial concept called “number” (shu 數). Yet, readers should bear in mind once again that this chapter serves to outline and pinpoint Zhu Xi’s understanding of his predecessors’ thought. Therefore, the content discussed below is the filtered and simplified version of Shao Yong’s conception of shu only. Yung Sik Kim said, “To the traditional Chinese mind, the character shu meant much more than ‘number,’ its ordinary modern meaning. For men like Shao Yung [Shao Yong], shu was the key concept that underlay all things and events of the world and represented the order and harmony behind the complexity of the phenomenal world. Chu Hsi [Zhu Xi] basically accepted this view” (Kim 2000: 70). While I contend that Zhu Xi accepted Shao Yong’s view on shu, it is crucial to point out that Zhu regarded shu as a subordinate concept to qi (which may differ from Shao’s original conception of shu). Zhu Xi said, When there is li, there is qi. When there is qi, there is shu. (Zhu 1994a: 1609) Once qi exists and appearances (xing 形) emerge, there is shu. (Zhu 1994a: 1610)

 I will argue that, although Zhu Xi collected Zhang Zai’s sayings into Reflections on Things at Hand, and Zhu’s disciple granted the membership of daotong to Zhang, Zhu himself had never indicated that Zhang has a place in this core orthodoxy. 10

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This is how he ordered qi above shu. Simply put, when an object is constituted by or congealed from qi, it has its xing 形-body (xing ti 形體) and shape (xing zhuang 形狀). In other words, the object will now have its spatial appearance and thus its shu (number), meaning it is numerically measurable. For example, a triangle has shu because of its area and sides can be measured. However, in order to understand the meaning of shu better, we should first discuss the word “qi shu (氣數).” Even nowadays, Chinese people still speak of the word qi shu in their daily life. For instance, when one says “the qi shu of the Qing dynasty has been exhausted (qi shu yi jin 氣數已盡) in 1911,” he or she means that the dynasty has come to an end in that year for it can no longer develop or continue further. Here the terms “develop” and “continue” are important in the sense that they presuppose “movement,” which is the essential characteristic of qi because qi must move.11 With this characteristic of movement, qi can be spoken of direction or tendency, and thus its movement is in principle measurable and predictable. That is why “qi” and “shu” can be combined as the term “qi shu” (shu—number—naturally indicates measurability or calculability).12 Based on this notion of qi shu, it is believed that let it be a stock market, a movie’s box office, a man’s health condition, or the growth of a plant, as long as it is made of qi, its tendency and change can be predicted. For example, when we see a tree leave turns yellow, we can easily predict that autumn is coming. Yet, the extent of exquisiteness and accuracy of the prediction depends on our mastery of shu, which is a kind of technique—shu 術. The better technique (mastery of number) you possess, the more accurate and detailed prediction will be. Owing to Shao’s overemphasis on number (shu 數) and overreliance on technique (shu 術), we may now understand how Zhu Xi criticized Shao Yong and why he excluded him from daotong (transmission of the Way or the Confucian orthodoxy). For Shao Yong’s overemphasis on number, Zhu Xi expressed that, The sages’ discussion of number was simple. It became complicated in Kangjie [Shao Yong’s sobriquet]… . In the Book of Changes, there were only the odd and even numbers coming from the natural world, and “the number of Great Creation” (da yan zhi shu 大衍 之數), which was used to count the milfoils [in order to form a hexagram for divination]. But Kangjie put everything under the study of number. That was why the two Chengs did not want to learn from him. (Zhu 1994a: 1649) Kangjie categorized everything under the study of number. I guess the sages must not do so. (Zhu 1994a: 1649)

The direct problem with overemphasizing shu is that it ignores the li–qi dualism or the two-tiered ontology (in which li represents the metaphysical substance and qi the physical element of all things). As aforementioned, Zhu Xi subordinates shu to qi. Therefore, in Zhu’s perspective, when Shao Yong overemphasized shu, it was unavoidable for Zhu to believe that Shao only paid attention to qi and neglected li,

 As quoted in last section, Tiwald and Van Norden remind us that “qi is unlike matter as conceived of by classical physics in that it is self-generating and self-moving.” 12  My understanding of qi shu is much inspired by Qian Mu (Qian 2001: 71–94). 11

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which was the metaphysical level of the universe. Hence, Zhu compared Shao with Zhou Dunyi and the Cheng brothers as follows: I have commented that Kangjie’s study is a bit different from Master Zhou’s and Masters Cheng’s sayings. Kangjie sees very clearly the interaction between yin and yang [i.e., the movement of qi] so his sayings are always about that. This is far from the comprehensiveness of Master Zhou’s words, “Nonpolar and yet Supreme Polarity” and “the Five Phases are the unitary yin and yang; yin and yang are the unitary Supreme Polarity.” In the words of Master Zhou and Masters Chengs, one can see that Kangjie’s claims have been implied. (Zhu 1994a: 1794)

In short, a theory that can shed light on both levels of li (metaphysical) and qi (physical) will be sufficient already in addressing the concern for the movement of qi. Here emerges the first reason why Zhu Xi excluded Shao Yong from daotong— Shao overlooked or failed to accurately express the two-tiered ontology, which is the core of Confucianism for Zhu Xi. As for Shao’s overreliance on technique (shu 術), Zhu Xi’s criticism is illustrated below: Someone asked, “Has Kangjie’s self-cultivation achieved the status of ‘not in two minds’ (bu huo 不惑)?”13 Zhu Xi replied, “Kangjie was an entirely different case altogether. The sages knew tien ming 天命 through principle (li 理) but he solely relied upon technique.” (Zhu 1994a: 2542)

The term “tien ming” is intentionally left untranslated due to its ambiguity in this context. It can mean “tien’s (Heaven’s) or the highest moral mandate” (“ming 命” as “ming ling 命令”) or “destiny” (“ming” as “ming yun 命運”). The quote, “The sages knew tien ming through principle,” (“principle” as “moral principle”) means that what they knew was their moral duty in the world. For example, when Mencius commented on the ancient sages Bo Yi 伯夷 and Yi Yin 伊尹, he meant that “had it been necessary to perpetrate one wrongful deed or to kill one innocent man in order to gain the Empire, none of them would have consented to it” (Mencius 2A.2; Lau 2003: 67). Here the two sages focused rigorously on righteousness rather than the favorable result brought about by committing wrongdoings. On the contrary, if one does not know tien ming through principle, he or she may solely care about his or her destiny, and therefore make his or her decision on action merely by weighing the consequences. As Mencius pointed out, “the saying ‘Bend the foot in order to straighten the yard’ refers to profit. If it is for profit, I suppose one might just as well bend the yard to straighten the foot” (Mencius 3B.1; Lau 2003: 125). While I am not claiming that Zhu Xi regarded Shao Yong as those who “bend the foot in order to straighten the yard,” he did show his concern for his opposition against Shao’s, as Don Wyatt calls it, “passive quietism” (Wyatt 1985: 662): Kangjie was originally an outgoing man of initiative. However, he was unwilling to take the trouble to engage himself deeply [in worldly affairs]. He would not undertake any trial until he saw the chance of success. Yet, when he felt the matters were too difficult and so he

 My translation of “bu huo 不惑” is inspired by D. C. Lau’s translation of “si shi er bu huo 四十 而不惑” in the Analects: “at forty I was never in two minds.” See Lau (2000): 11. 13

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dragged himself away in retreat. (Zhu 1994a: 2545; see Wyatt 1985: 654, slightly modified)

For Zhu Xi, such performances from Shao Yong were definitely inseparable from his overreliance on technique (shu 術). He believed that those who have a great interest in mastering number (in order to foretell the future or to predict the tendency or development of the qi-constituted-empirical-world) always care too much about the chance of success, thus easily omitting their worldly moral responsibilities. Recalling Mencius’ description of Bo Yi and Yi Yin, even though killing merely one innocent man could bring them a great success, such as gaining the Empire, they would refrain from doing so. This is what a genuine Confucian should do and that was why Zhu Xi excluded Shao Yong from the Confucian orthodoxy. In short, Zhu’s comparison between the study of li 理 (principle) and the study of shu 數 (number) is clearly illustrated here: To put it simply, the principle of Heaven and Earth is certainly what we should know. Why do we necessarily know shu then? Yichuan [Cheng Yi’s sobriquet] says, ‘thunder comes from where it comes from.’ [This is the proper knowledge of li and] Why do we have to predict its exact origin of happening? … Just focus on today and need not ask about the future. Just do what you should do. You cannot know if you are going to die tomorrow or going to be in the world twenty or thirty more years. There is only self-cultivation. Why should anyone try to predict events? (Zhu 1994a: 2554)

Having said that, it should not be forgotten that Zhu Xi once also praised Shao Yong together with Sima Guang and the remaining four of the Five Masters. As Wyatt says, “it is clear that Chu Hsi’s [Zhu Xi’s] evaluation of Shao Yung [Shao Yong] was mixed” (Wyatt 1985: 664). I agree with Wyatt’s explanation of Zhu’s appraisal of Shao, “Chu Hsi [Zhu Xi] clearly felt that Shao Yung [Shao Yong] had a great deal of insight on certain issues and little or none on others. If we reduce his opinions to categories, we can say that Chu Hsi [Zhu Xi] tends to cite and to agree with Shao Yung [Shao Yong] on such issues as metaphysical theory (that is, notions of space, time, and existence) and objective observation (that is, the verification of biological, natural, and super-natural phenomena). In such instances, Chu Hsi [Zhu Xi] apparently felt Shao Yung’s [Shao Yong’s] analysis supported sufficiently well the points he was trying to make” (Wyatt 1985: 664). After all, as quoted previously, Zhu Xi held that Shao Yong’s claims were already implied in Zhou Dunyi’s and Chengs’ sayings. As long as one is familiar with Zhou’s and Chengs’ preaching, Shao’s thought and study will become an adequate supplement about the natural world (the empirical world constituted by qi) and bring no harm to him or her. It is also essential for us to question whether Shao Yong indeed subordinated number to qi like what Zhu Xi believed. Smith and Wyatt have pointed out that “[For Shao Yong] All things emerge from t’ai-chi [Taiji]. First comes spirit (shen), inchoate and ineffable, the marvelous workings of the whole. While spirit is inchoate, it is not chaotic. Its orderliness, however, is not susceptible to articulation. Instead it consists in the self-existing principles Shao calls ‘li.’ Number, the most fundamental order that can be articulated, in turn emerges from spirit and

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­principles” (Smith and Wyatt 1990: 105. emphasis added). If Smith and Wyatt are correct, then to Shao Yong the concept of “number” should be subordinated to “li” (principle) rather than “qi.” Therefore, it raises questions about the validity of Zhu Xi’s understanding and criticism of Shao Yong’s belief. As this chapter only explores Zhu’s interpretations and evaluations of the Five Masters, I choose to leave this question open on whether or not he accurately interpreted and evaluated Shao Yong. As for Zhang Zai, we will be discussing three main issues in relation to his membership within daotong. The first issue concerns whether he belonged to daotong. As quoted in Sect. 2, Zhu Xi said that “while the Four Books are the stairway to the Six Classics, Reflections on Things at Hand is the stairway to the Four Books.” Among the Five Masters, only Shao Yong’s phrases were not collected in Reflections on Things at Hand. Therefore, one may assume that Zhang Zai is a member of daotong, along with Zhou Dunyi and the Cheng brothers. However, as far as I am concerned, Zhu Xi did not regard Zhang Zai as one of the members. While it was unclear as for who included Zhang in daotong first, Huang Gan 黃榦 (1152–1221), the disciple and son-in-law of Zhu Xi, was undoubtedly one of those who conferred such honor on Zhang. In his “A Brief Biographical Sketch of Master Zhu (Zhuzi xingzhuang 朱子行狀),” Huang wrote that, “The orthodoxy of the Way needs to be transmitted by capable persons. Since the Zhou dynasty, there were only a few people who borne the orthodoxy and transmitted the Way. Among them, only one or two could spread the Way further. After Confucius, the Way was barely perceptible and handed down by Zhengzi 曾子 and Zisi 子思. Having transmitted by Mencius, the Way started to flourish. After Mencius, Masters Zhou, the Chengs, and Zhang revived the Way from predicament. Having transmitted by the Master [Zhu], the Way started to flourish.” Although Huang’s primary intention was to promote his mentor’s status, it was apparent that he gave Zhang Zai a daotong membership when compared with Zhu Xi’s own words, such as those recorded in the “Preface to the Commentary on Zhongyong.” Proven that Zhang Zai did not belong to daotong, the second issue then concerns why he was excluded from the membership. This can be explained by his underrepresentation of the li–qi two-tiered ontology, particularly in Zhu’s opinion. To further understand Zhu’s perspective on Zhang, it is essential to examine an important concept of Zhang, “the supreme vacuity” (taixu 太虛), and how it was interpreted by Zhu. Zhang Zai’s “the supreme vacuity” often entails a twofold interpretation. There are two main different interpretations of this concept. The first interpretation can be seen in Jeeloo Liu’s newly published book, which construes Zhang’s “the supreme vacuity” as “the state of qi before concrete forms arise” and “the ultimate state of qi, to which all temporarily solidified concrete things would eventually disintegrate and return” (Liu 2017: 71). While this kind of interpretation neither equates “the supreme vacuity” with qi nor li, it, however, lies on the same ontological level as qi (as it is regarded as “a state of qi”). It therefore was not surprising that Liu asserted that “Zhang Zai embraced qi-monism” (Liu 2017: 69). In fact, most scholars have adopted this qi-monistic interpretation (Chen Lai is another important representa-

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tive. See Chen 2003). Nonetheless, there were still a few scholars, such as Mou Zongsan 牟宗三 and Lin Lechang 林樂昌 who interpreted “the supreme vacuity” as li (see Mou 1968–1969, vol. 1; and Lin 2016). It seems that Zhu Xi’s understanding of Zhang’s “the supreme vacuity” was quite vague. On certain occasions, he implicitly proposed a qi-monistic interpretation by criticizing the concept for “only speaking of a ‘within-form being’ (xing er xia zhe  形而下者)” (Zhu 1994a: 2532). In other instances though, he seemingly admitted that “the supreme vacuity” should denote the transcendental li. It was merely the expression, Taixu 太虛 that dismayed Zhu, for it was misleading or inadequate. For example, when one claimed that Zhang Zai’s intended meaning of Taixu was Nonpolar (Wuji 無極)—the transcendental substance, Zhu Xi responded, Nonpolar covers and penetrates both insubstantial (xu 虛) and substantial (shi 實), clear (qing 清) and turbid (zhuo 濁). (Zhu 1994a: 2533)

It implies that a genuine transcendental substance is “beyond the empirical opposites.” To further explain, neither sides of the opposite xu and shi can limit the manifestation of the substance—Nonpolar—as it can manifest itself in any situation. Zhu continued, While the term Wuji 無極 implied the in-between (zhongjian 中間), the term taixu referred to one side only… . [Zhang Zai] could not appropriately describe the “above form” (xing er shang 形而上) as li and the “within form” (xing er xia 形而下) as things (qi 器). Since he used the term xu, it thereupon opposed against shi. (Zhu 1994a: 2533)

With reference to the context of the two quotations above, it should be noted that the term “in-between” does not imply a middle point between the two opposing sides but the substance that is beyond the opposites. For Zhu Xi, Zhou Dunyi’s Wuji is an appropriate term to describe the metaphysical substance, since the word does not bias towards either side of the opposites. On the contrary, Zhang Zai’s Taixu is an ostensibly one-sided concept that heavily emphasizes on xu. In this given example, we can understand why Zhu Xi often thought that “Taixu also denotes li, albeit indistinct” (Zhu 1994a: 2534) and why he expressed that “he (Zhang Zai) originally wanted to discuss the ‘above form’ but it turns out to be the ‘within form.’ Just that his expression was indistinct here” (Zhu 1994a: 2538). In brief, for Zhu Xi, it was possible for Zhang Zai to put forward a li–qi two-­ tiered ontology, as Zhang regarded the empirical level (the “within form”) as qi and the transcendental level (the “above form”) as Taixu (the supreme vacuity). Regardless, the two-tiered ontology was inaccurately represented, as his concept of Taixu was largely one-sided. For this reason, Zhu Xi had excluded Zhang Zai from daotong. Seeing that Zhang Zai was not a member of daotong, the third issue comes down to why he still remains to be a valuable predecessor to Zhu Xi. The most significant reason can be that, in Zhu’s perspective, Zhang had put forward an immensely “unbreakable” proposition that disclosed a truth. Zhu once stated that, “Yichuan’s (Cheng Yi) ‘human nature is principle (xing ji li 性即理)’ and Hengqü’s (Zhang Zai) ‘the mind/heart connects human nature and feelings (xin tong xing qing 心統性情)’, these two propositions are unbreakable!” (Zhu 1994a: 93).

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Zhu Xi even directly put Zhang Zai’s proposition into his commentary on Mencius. Mencius 2A.6 has the following notable sayings: “The heart of compassion is the germ of benevolence; the heart of shame, of dutifulness; the heart of courtesy and modesty, of observance of the rites; the heart of right and wrong, of wisdom” (Lau 2003: 73). Zhu Xi’s corresponding commentary is as follows: Compassion, shame, courtesy and modesty, and right and wrong are feelings. Benevolence, dutifulness, observance of the rites, and wisdom are human nature. The mind/heart is what connects human nature and feelings. (Zhu 1994b: 329)

For Zhu, Zhang Zai’s succinct proposition had inspired a perfect interpretation of Mencius’ moral psychology which accurately depicted human beings’ internal structure. Therefore, it was not surprising that Zhu Xi revealed that “regarding human nature, feelings, and the mind/heart, only Mencius and Hengqü (Zhang Zai) describe them well.” (Zhu 1994a: 93). This section has shown that Shao Yong and Zhang Zai were two special figures in the “Five Masters” in Zhu Xi’s perspective. On the one hand, they were undoubtedly great thinkers of Confucianism. Shao’s expertise in “number” (shu 數) helped to enrich the school’s study of the empirical world—a world constituted by qi. And Zhang’s “unbreakable” proposition—“the mind/heart connects human nature and feelings”—was the most fitting description of human internal structure after Mencius. On the other hand, unlike the other three Masters, Shao and Zhang should be excluded from daotong because in their beliefs, the li–qi two-tiered ontology was either not admitted, or not appropriately expressed.

5 Zhu Xi’s Different Treatments of the Two Chengs The two previous sections have shown that, (1) among the “Five Masters,” only Zhou Dunyi and the Cheng brothers were listed in daotong by Zhu Xi; (2) the remaining two masters were excluded for their ignorance of li or their inaccurate expression of the li–qi two-tiered ontology. To discuss the philosophical relationship between Zhu Xi and the Cheng brothers, this section will shift the focus to an interesting phenomenon: while it is not suspicious that both Cheng Hao and Cheng Yi believed in a two-tiered ontology,14 surprisingly, they were treated differently by Zhu Xi. In short, Zhu almost fully accepted and succeeded Cheng Yi’s (the younger Cheng) thoughts while he often criticized Cheng Hao, albeit indirectly in most cases.15  For example, Cheng Hao said that “man is not the only perfectly intelligent creature in the universe. The human mind (in essence) is the same as that of plants and trees, birds and animals. It is only that man receives at birth the Mean of Heaven and Earth (balanced material force)” (Chan 1969: 527). Cheng Yi said, “All that has physical form is identical with material force. Only the Way is formless” (Chan 1969: 527). 15  As I know, Zhu Xi’s different treatments of the two Chengs were first discussed in detail by Mou Zongsan. I am very much inspired by his discovery and analysis. See Mou (1968–1969), vol. 1. 14

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For Zhu Xi, he hardly doubted Cheng Hao’s position in the Confucian orthodoxy, as his reputation had been authoritatively supported by Cheng Yi, the philosopher in the Northern Song dynasty whom Zhu respected the most. In “The Epitaph of Mr. Mingdao (Cheng Hao’s sobriquet),” Cheng Yi said, “After the death of the Duke of Zhou, sages’ Way was not realized anymore. After the death of Mencius, sages’ learning was not transmitted anymore…. Mr. Mingdao came after one thousand and four hundred years, acquired the untransmitted learning from the remaining canons, and aimed at enlightening these people with this Way” (Cheng and Cheng 2004: 640). Having said that, Zhu Xi was in fact quite discontented with Cheng Hao’s philosophy. Such sentiment can be succinctly explained in a sentence, “Mingdao’s words are vague (hun lun 渾淪), too high-toned, not easy understanding for learners” (Zhu 1994a: 2358). As it might be inappropriate to directly criticize Cheng Hao, Zhu indirectly did so by criticizing his disciples, such as Yang Shi 楊時 (1053–1135) and Xie Liangzuo 謝良佐 (1050–1103), who succeeded his teachings.16 In his well-known article, “A Treatise of Ren 仁 (humaneness or benevolence),” Zhu Xi pondered upon a question after introducing his definition of “ren” as “the principle of love” (ai zhi li 愛之理), Someone said: The followers of Masters Cheng have given many explanations of ren. Some say that love is not ren, and regard the unity of all things and the self as the substance of ren. Others maintain that love is not ren but explain ren in terms of the possession of consciousness by the mind. If what you say is correct, are they all wrong? (Chan 1969: 595, Chan’s translation slightly modified).

Zhu Xi’s answer is as follows, in which it marks his implicit criticism of Cheng Hao, Answer: From what they call the unity of all things and the self, it can be seen that ren involves love for all, but unity is not the reality which makes ren a substance. From what they call the mind’s possession of consciousness, it can be seen that ren includes wisdom, but that is not the real reason why ren is so called… . Furthermore, to talk about ren in general terms of the unity of things and the self will lead people to be vague, confused, neglectful, and make no effort to be alert. The bad effect—and there has been—may be to consider other things as oneself. To talk about ren in specific terms of consciousness will lead people to be nervous, irascible, and devoid of any quality of depth. The bad effect—and there has been—may be to consider desire as principle. (Chan 1969: 595–96, Chan’s translation slightly modified)

 Rigorously speaking, it is the Cheng brothers who were the genuine founders of the “school of daoxue” (one of the traditional appellations of Neo-Confucianism). Before them, Zhou Dunyi did not find a school of thought. Zhang Zai had his own education career, but its actual impact was only regional. Until the Cheng brothers, daoxue became an obvious school which was widely spread and had its own genealogy. Among their luxuriant disciples, there were two main branches, namely, the Daonan 道南 School and the Huxiang 湖湘 School. For the former, three generations were represented by Yang Shi, Luo Congyan 羅從彥 (1072–1135), and Li Tong 李侗 (1093– 1163); As Li Tong’s student, Zhu Xi can thus be counted as the fourth generation. As for the latter, four generations included Xie Liangzuo, Hu Anguo 胡安國 (1074–1138) and his son Hu Hong 胡 宏 (1105–1161), and Hu Hong’s student and Zhu Xi’s close friend Zhang Shi 張栻 (1133–1180). 16

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Wing-tsit Chan pointed out that it was Yang Shi who “regard the unity of all things and the self as the substance of ren” (Chan 1969: 595), and it was Xie Liangzuo who “explain ren in terms of the possession of consciousness by the mind,” and “described jen [ren] as consciousness” (Chan 1969: 596). And according to Mou Zongsan, “in Zhu Xi’s criticisms of ‘unity of things and the self’ and ‘description of ren as consciousness’, the former directly refers to Guishan [Yang Shi] and the latter to Shangcai [Xie Liangzuo]. Still, as both Yang’s and Xie’s views were originated from Mingdao [Cheng Hao], Zhu Xi was therefore indirectly criticizing Mingdao” (Mou 1968–1969, vol. 3: 247). Mou then proved this by citing Cheng Hao’s following words, A book on medicine describes paralysis of the four limbs as absence of ren. This is an excellent description. The man of ren regards Heaven and Earth and all things as one body. To him there is nothing that is not himself. (Chan 1969: 530. Chan’s translation slightly modified)

From this quotation, we can draw two brief conclusions. Firstly, when all the four limbs are paralyzed, they are disconnected from the self (or the mind/heart). In other words, they have lost the capacity of feeling, or more precisely, the self is not conscious of what happens to the four limbs as a result of this detachment. This is an analogy of the absence of ren. We see here the notion of “consciousness” that Xie Liangzuo succeeded later on. Secondly, the second half of the above quotations elicits Yang Shi’s idea of “the unity of things and the self.” Mou’s opinion on both Yang’s and Xie’s views that were originated from Cheng Hao was thus proven. And more importantly, he was right that when Zhu Xi was criticizing Cheng’s two disciples, he was also indirectly criticizing the elder Cheng. Further analysis can be done on Zhu Xi’s discontent with Cheng Hao. From the quoted passage, it is clear that Cheng Hao preferred to describe ren as a “state,” let it be “being conscious” or “being united with things.” This was what precisely disappointed Zhu Xi and therefore he saw Cheng Hao’s words as vague and overtly high-toned. For Zhu, it was objectionable to describe ren as a “state” rather than defining it as a “thing” (or a “substance”). As he stated in “A Treatise of Ren,” “unity is not the reality which makes ren a substance.” On the contrary, in Zhu Xi’s view, the latter approach—defining ren as a substance—was clearer, as well as more helpful for those who aspire to study ren. For this reason, he held firmly to the idea that ren should be defined as a substance, namely “the principle (li 理) of love”—the transcendental ground of love that makes the existence of love possible. Without it, love can never emerge. It is also analogical to the relationship between a germ (love) and the nature of a seed (but not the seed per se). The nature can be construed as the nature of growing or the principle of germination (the principle of love). In fact, the above analogy was conceived by Cheng Yi (the younger Cheng). He once stated that “the mind/heart is analogical to a seed of cereal, and its nature of growing (sheng zhi xing 生之性) is ren” (Cheng and Cheng 2004: 184). Decades later, Zhu Xi spoke of this analogy: “Yichuan’s (Cheng Yi) analogy of a seed of cereal was stunning” (Zhu 1994a: 109). It is because the mind/heart (xin 心), the

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human nature (xing 性), and feeling (or emotion; qing 情) are distinctly divided and defined in this analogy. Mind/heart (the seed) acts according to nature (ren; the nature of growing). It thus performs the feeling or emotion (love; the germ). I would even argue that it was Cheng Yi’s understanding of xin, xing, and qing that prompted Zhu Xi’s esteemed opinion of Zhang Zai’s “unbreakable” proposition, “the mind/ heart connects human nature and feelings (xin tong xing qing 心統性情).” Therefore, between the Cheng brothers, who Zhu Xi exactly agreed with and succeeded to was Cheng Yi instead of Cheng Hao (although he did not express his discontent with the latter frankly). This is simply because, in Zhu Xi’s opinion, Cheng Hao often made vague statements. In contrast, Cheng Yi’s clear and analytic mind fitted more with his philosophical preference. Nonetheless, attention should be drawn to the creativity within Zhu Xi’s succession to Cheng Yi’s philosophy. I presume that, despite having a similar mindset with the younger Cheng, Zhu indeed provided an innovative interpretation to this great, if not the greatest, philosopher. The best example would be Zhu Xi’s interpretation of Cheng Yi’s famous dictum, “‘Conservation and nourishing’ (hanyang 涵養) requires seriousness (jing 敬); The pursuit of learning depends on the extension of knowledge” (Cheng and Cheng 2004: 188). While Cheng himself might not grasp much significance of these two propositions, Zhu substantially developed their meanings (especially the first one) to the extent that was unimaginable to Cheng, and he promoted them as the fundamental principles of moral cultivation. This is what I referred to earlier as “Zhu’s creativity in interpreting Cheng.” To further elaborate, emphasis should be placed on the first sentence,17 “‘conservation and nourishing’ requires seriousness,” in which “conservation and nourishing” (hanyang 涵養) is a crucial concept complicated by Zhu Xi. Zhu Xi admitted that our mind/heart is originally “as clear as a mirror and as calm as still water” (jing ming shui zhi 鏡明水止). At this originally untouched state, the mind will have no immoral intention. And the work of hanyang will be the key to conserving and nourishing this state.18 This so-called “original state” particularly refers to the state when nothing has come to the mind/heart, including objects (food, money, friends, etc.) and issues (attending a meeting, making a judgement, etc). In other words, the mind/heart has not “encountered” anything and thus need not deal with, or react to, any object or issue. Using Zhu Xi’s terminology, this is

 For the analysis of the concept “the extension of knowledge” (zhizhi 致知) in the second sentence, please see Chap. 14 of this volume: Yiu-ming Fung, “Theory of Knowledge 1: Gewu1 and Zhi1zhi2.” 18  I am referring to one of the most important letters of philosophical discussion of Zhu Xi, “First Letter to the Gentlemen of Hunan on Equilibrium and Harmony 與湖南諸公論中和第一書,” in the juan 64 of Zhu Xi’s Collected Papers 晦庵先生朱文公文集. In this letter which is written at his age of 40, Zhu Xi said, “As long as the daily effort of seriousness and conservation reaches a certain level and it is not disturbed by the human desires, the mind/heart will be like the clear mirror and silent water when it is still, and there will be no inappropriateness when it acts. This is the chief work we should do in our daily life.” See Zhu (2010): 3131. 17

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the “still” (jing 靜) state of the mind/heart. To hanyang this state, Zhu Xi claimed that (though he preferred to accredit the idea to Master Cheng) we need to be jing 敬, to keep the mind/heart serious. If we manage to do so, the mind/heart would naturally function in a proper manner, such as refraining from being unreasonably angry. Zhu Xi was aware that the above practice is only applicable to “stillness.” However, our mind/heart also has the state of “activity” (dong 動), such as reacting to various objects and issues. And its reactions are usually realized in the bodily actions. Therefore, it is necessary to have another kind of cultivating practice, namely, xingcha 省察 or chashi 察識, which refers to “reflecting on and examining one’s previous or current reaction, intention or performance, so as to cease the immoral ones and realize the moral ones,” in order to guide the mind/heart. With reference to what Zhu Xi said, “what humans do are either in accordance with the Heavenly Principle (tianli 天理, the highest moral principle) or the human desires (renyü 人欲). All of our day-to-day activities can be divided into these two forms, no matter what we do—we move, we stop, we sit down, we lie down—we must perform xingcha upon them. For example, sitting down or standing in a serious manner fulfills the Heavenly Principle. Yet, sitting or standing in an indecent manner follows human desires. Even when we speak, remain quiet, drink, or eat, all of those actions come in two forms” (Zhu 1994a: 1079). Zhu Xi believed that the above two-dimensional cultivation can comprehensively cover both the states of “stillness” and “activity.” While I am by no means commenting on the rationale of this theory, we should at least be taking into the consideration that the concept of xingcha or chashi is absent in Cheng Yi’s dictum. Therefore, it is important to ask whether Zhu Xi could legitimately claim that his theory of cultivation was in line with Cheng’s instruction. Zhu Xi had most certainly demonstrated his brilliance by expanding the concept of “hanyang.” As a result, this “expanded hanyang” (the broad sense) can encompass both “the narrow sense of hanyang” and xingcha (or chashi). To be precise, the narrow sense of hanyang refers to the unexpressed (weifa 未發) mind/heart or the mind/heart’s still state, aiming at conserving and nourishing its state that is “as clear as a mirror and as calm as still water.” While xingcha or chashi as aforementioned refers to the expressed (yifa 已發) mind/heart or the mind/heart’s active state, aiming at reflecting on and controlling its intentions or reactions, as well as the bodily performances. Therefore in this instance, both “the narrow sense of hanyang” and “xingcha (or chashi)” are included in or encompassed by “the broad sense of hanyang.” This conceptualized idea thus allows Zhu Xi to maintain the first half of Cheng Yi’s dictum, “‘Conservation and nourishing’ (hanyang 涵養) requires seriousness (jing 敬),” as an infallible regulation. To further explain, there are two reasons to justify and support this interpretation of hanyang (the broad sense). The first reason is derived from Qian Mu’s analysis. From my observation, Qian was the first contemporary scholar who thoroughly interpreted Zhu Xi’s concept of “hanyang.” With his comprehensive analysis, he concluded that:

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“Zhu Xi first asserted the concept of ‘seriousness’ (jing 敬) by the two Chengs, since he explored the issue of ‘the unexpressed and the expressed’ in the Doctrine of the Mean (Zhongyong 中庸). Afterwards, he enthroned Yichuan’s (Cheng Yi) two sentences, ‘Conservation and nourishing requires seriousness; the pursuit of learning depends on the extension of knowledge’, as the starting point and principal rule of moral cultivation for the learners… . And a bit later, he further discussed the ordering of ‘Conservation and nourishing’ (hanyang) and ‘the extension of knowledge’. [The reason why he did not discuss the ordering of hanyang and xingcha is that] since hanyang and xingcha have been integrated together, the discussion of hanyang will thus entail that of xingcha too. It is therefore needless to debate the ordering of hanyang and xingcha.” (Qian 2011: 307. Emphasis added)

The second reason is derived from Zhu Xi’s own saying. This reason can also substantiate Qian Mu’s argument above. Among the important philosophical propositions put forward by Zhu Xi, one was “seriousness penetrating activity and stillness” (jing guan dong jing 敬貫動靜). The detailed elaboration is as follows, Seriousness penetrates activity and stillness. When the mind/heart is unexpressed, it remains in a pure state, hence the substance of seriousness. It is not when one is aware that his mind/ heart is unexpressed and hence practices seriousness. When [the mind/heart is] expressed, one performs xingcha in reflecting on and examining its particular reactions, hence the function of seriousness. However, if the state of seriousness is not accomplished of substance, its function in xingcha cannot be achieved either. (Zhu 2010: 2327) It seems that in both the states of unexpressed or expressed [mind/heart], it requires one and the same practice: when [the mind/heart is] unexpressed, it certainly needs conservation and nourishing. When [the mind/heart is] expressed, it also needs reflection and examination. One always need to deal with things seriously. Do not be lighthearted and let go of wrongdoings. Conserve and nourish all the time, reflect on and examine all activities. (Zhu 1994a: 1511. Emphasis added)

In the second passage, the so-called “one single practice” is undoubtedly “seriousness.” As Zhu Xi stated in another occasion, “conserving it (the unexpressed mind/ heart) with seriousness” (jing yi cun zhi 敬以存之) and also “examining it (the expressed mind/heart) with seriousness” (jing yi cha zhi 敬以察之)—both hanyang (the narrow sense) and xingcha are integrated as “practicing seriousness” (Zhu 2001: 59). Through the idea of “seriousness penetrates activity and stillness,” Zhu Xi ultimately included the notion of xingcha (reflecting on and examining the active mind/heart) in Cheng Yi’s dictum, “Conservation and nourishing requires seriousness,” yielding it an infallible claim. In brief, even though both Cheng Hao and Cheng Yi were orthodox Confucian philosophers for their li–qi two-tiered ontology, Zhu Xi was in fact discontented with the elder Cheng for his vague and too high-toned sayings, as opposed to the clear and analytic mind of the younger Cheng that he truly admired. Having said that, his conceptual creativity still prevailed in his succession to Cheng Yi’s thought. This once again proved that Zhu Xi was creating through succeeding, or vice versa.

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6 Conclusion This chapter first illustrates that Zhu Xi did not coin the term, “Five Masters of Northern Song,” regardless of his respect for them and how he facilitated their intellectual resources to construct a philosophical system. Secondly, this chapter demonstrates how he absorbed the Five Masters’ intellectual heritages, as well as his evaluations of them, which reveals his criterion for the evaluation. Put simply, Zhu Xi “creatively” succeeded the masters. For example, while Zhou Dunyi did not indicate that his concept of Taiji referred to the transcendental substance, li or tianli, Zhu interpreted it to be so. While Cheng Yi could not have fathomed the depth of the meaning of his proposition of “Conservation and nourishing requires seriousness,” Zhu explored it with his adept conceptual skill. Also, through Cheng Yi’s analogy between the mind/heart and a seed of cereal, it was apparent that he honored Zhang Zai’s proposition—“the mind/heart connects human nature and feelings”—which Zhang himself had yet to explain in clarity. In evaluating the Five Masters, Zhu Xi’s crucial criterion was the li–qi two-­ tiered ontology: whoever held and clearly expressed such ontology should be a member of daotong. For him, only Zhou Dunyi and the two Chengs could be granted this membership. Despite their greatness, Shao Yong and Zhang Zai were excluded from daotong, for the ignorance of li (overemphasizing qi and shu) and the unclear expression of the two-tiered ontology respectively. However, I must reiterate that all of these standpoints are debatable, unless Zhu Xi’s interpretations of the Five Masters were valid and true.

References Adler, Joseph A. 2014. Reconstructing the Confucian Dao: Zhu Xi’s Appropriation of Zhou Dunyi. Albany: State University of New York Press. (A newly published book providing detailed and original analysis of Zhu Xi’s interpretation and appropriation of Zhou Dunyi.) Chan, Wing-tsit. 1969. A Source Book in Chinese Philosophy. New Jersey: Princeton University Press. (A celebrated classic anthology of Chinese philosophical texts with the editor’s influential translations.) Chan, Wing-tsit 陳榮捷. 1988. Collected Papers of the Study of Zhu Xi 朱學論集, 2nd ed. Taipei 臺北: Taiwan xiusheng shuju 臺灣學生書局. Chen, Lai 陳來. 2003. Song–Ming Neo-Confucianism 宋明理學, 2nd ed. Shanghai 上海: East China Normal University Press 華東師範大學出版社. (A concise and classic introductory book of Song–Ming Neo-Confucianism.) Cheng, Hao 程顥, and Cheng Yi 程頤. 2004. Collection of the Two Chengs 二程集. Beijing 北京: Zhonghua shuju 中華書局. Gardner, Daniel K., trans. 1990. Learning to Be a Sage: Selection from the Conversations of Master Chu, Arranged Topically. Berkeley: University of California Press. (The largest-scale translation of Zhu Xi’s Classified Sayings [Zhuzi yulei 朱子語類] to date.) ———., trans. 2007. The Four Books: The Basic Teachings of the Later Confucian Tradition. Indianapolis: Hackett.

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Graham, A. C. 1958. Two Chinese Philosophers: Ch’eng Ming-tao and Ch’eng Yi-ch’uan. London: Lund Humphries. Johnston, Ian, and Wang Ping, trans. 2012. Daxue and Zhongyong: Bilingual Edition. Hong Kong: The Chinese University Press. Kim, Yung Sik. 2000. The Natural Philosophy of Chu Hsi. Philadelphia: American Philosophical Society. (A stimulating study of some neglected aspects of Zhu Xi’s philosophy, such as his view of number.) Lau, D. C., trans 2000. The Analects. Hong Kong: The Chinese University Press. ———., trans 2003. Mencius, revised ed. Hong Kong: The Chinese University Press. Lin, Lechang 林樂昌. 2016. Study of Zhang Zai’s Neo-Confucianism and Works 張載理學與文獻 探研. Beijing 北京: Renmin chubanshe 人民出版社. (A representative new study of Zhang Zai in mainland China which is sufficiently free from the official ideology in the past decades.) Liu, Jeeloo. 2017. Neo-Confucianism: Metaphysics, Mind, and Morality. New York: John Wiley & Sons. (The latest monograph of Song–Ming Neo-Confucianism in the Anglophone academia.) Mou, Zongsan. 1968–1969. Mind-Substance and Nature-Substance 心體與性體, vols. 1 and 3. Taipei 臺北: Zhengzhong shuju 正中書局. (A three-volume magnum opus with very deep philosophical discussions of Song–Ming Neo-Confucianism signals the breakthrough of the field.) Qian, Mu 錢穆. 2001. Public Talks on Chinese Thought 中國思想通俗講話. Taipei 臺北: Lantai Chubanshe 蘭台出版社. (A popular but inspiring small book introducing traditional Chinese thought through a series of common Chinese words.) ———. 2011. New Scholarly Record of Zhu Xi 朱子新學案, 5 vols. Beijing 北京: Jiuzhou chubanshe 九州出版社. (An irreplaceable classic of Zhu Xi study classifying the philosopher’s significant sayings and writings into a number of categories.) Smith, Kidder, Jr., and Don J. Wyatt. 1990. “Shao Yung and Number.” In Kidder Smith, Jr., Peter K. Bol, Joseph A. Adler, and Don J. Wyatt, eds., Sung Dynasty Uses of the I Ching. Princeton: Princeton University Press. (A concise analysis of Shao Yong’s thought of number.) Tiwald, Justin, and Bryan W. Van Norden, eds. 2014. Readings in Later Chinese Philosophy: Han Dynasty to the 20th Century. Cambridge, MA: Hackett. Wyatt, Don J.  1985. “Chu Hsi’s Critique of Shao Yung: One Instance of the Stand Against Fatalism.” Harvard Journal of Asiatic Studies 45.2: 649–66. (A short article clearly illustrates the rationale of Zhu Xi’s critique of Shao Yong.) Zhu, Xi 朱熹. 1994a. Zhu Xi’s Classified Sayings 朱子語類. Beijing 北京: Zhonghua Book Company 中華書局. ———. 1994b. The Verses, Sections, and Combined Commentaries on the Four Books 四書章句 集注. Taipei 臺北: Da’an chubanshe 大安出版社. ———. 2001. Some Questions on the Four Books 四書或問. Shanghai 上海: Shanghai guji chubanshe 上海古籍出版社; Anhui jiaoyu chubanshe 安徽教育出版社. ———. 2010. Zhu Xi’s Collected Papers 晦庵先生朱文公文集. In Zhu Xi’s Complete Works 朱 子全書, revised ed., edited by Zhu Jieren 朱傑人, Yan Zuozhi 嚴佐之, and Liu Yongxiang 劉 永翔, vols. 20–25. Shanghai 上海: Shanghai guji chubanshe 上海古籍出版社; Anhui jiaoyu chubanshe 安徽教育出版社. Kai-chiu Ng is a senior lecturer at the Department of Philosophy, The Chinese University of Hong Kong. His main research interest lies in Confucianism, especially Zhu Xi’s philosophy. He is the author of Zhu Xi’s Theory of Self-Cultivation of Probing Principle (in Chinese, National Taiwan University Press, 2017).  

Chapter 9

Zhu Xi and his Contemporaries: Zhang Shi, Lü Zuqian, Chen Liang, and Lu Jiuyuan Hoyt Cleveland Tillman

1 Introduction In the flourishing intellectual environment of the twelfth century, Zhu Xi’s interactions with his contemporaries helped him to ascend to the position of the authoritative reader of the classics and the leader of the Daoxue 道學 (Learning of the way) sociopolitical group or “fellowship.” In the twelfth century, Daoxue was a much more specific term of reference than Wm. Theodore de Bary’s use of “Neo-­ Confucianism,” but less narrow than Chan Wing-tsit’s use of “Neo-Confucianism.” Chan’s usage of the Western term almost always referred exclusively to the philosophy advanced by the Cheng brothers and Zhu Xi; however, de Bary’s usage encompassed two broader meanings of the Chinese category lixue 理學, because he included Wang Yangming’s 王陽明 (1472–1529) Xinxue 心學 (Learning of the heart/mind) and even sometimes almost all Confucians from the late eighth to the late nineteenth centuries (Tillman 1992a, 1994, 2004; de Bary 1993). Some scholars either inadequately realize these distinctions or simply focus on the more exclusive period of Daoxue beginning in 1181, and so either conflate Daoxue and Chan’s usage of Neo-Confucianism, or continue to assume equivalence between Neo-­ Confucianism and lixue (e.g., de Weerdt 2007; see Tian 2009a). Daoxue is a larger category than such regional branches as Huxiang 湖湘 and Zhedong 浙東 that Chinese scholars often label “xuepai 學派,” which is unfortunately glossed as “schools” of thought, and so gives an impression of far greater cohesion, uniformity, and scope than these “schools” of thought achieved during the Song. Among Zhu’s contemporaries, first Zhang Shi 張栻 (1133–1180) and Lü Zuqian 呂祖謙 (1137–1181), and later Chen Liang 陳亮 (1143–1194) and Lu Jiuyuan 陸九淵 (1139–1193) had particularly influential roles not only in H. C. Tillman (*) Yuelu Academy, Hunan University, Changsha, Hunan Province, People’s Republic of China e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2020 K.-c. Ng, Y. Huang (eds.), Dao Companion to ZHU Xi’s Philosophy, Dao Companions to Chinese Philosophy 13, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-29175-4_9

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c­ ontributing ideas to Zhu Xi’s ultimate synthesis, but also in either inspiring or provoking Zhu to develop his viewpoints further in response to their ideas and approaches. By highlighting the importance of Zhu’s contemporaries, Hoyt Tillman also made a case for seeing a sharp contrast in how Zhu interacted with the earlier pair and the later pair of these contemporaries, and how Zhu began to assert his own singular authority—as announced in his eulogy to Lü in 1181. That eulogy exclaimed: “[Now,] who will lead and restore order to Daoxue! Who will restore the virtue of rulers! . . . Who will finish the explication of the classics! . . . Stupid though I am, who is going to caution me about my flaws and superintend my mistakes!” (Zhu 2002: [87] 4080, tr., Tillman 1992b: 131, 2003; see Tian 2009a, b). After 1181, Zhu became increasingly critical and sometimes even dismissive of these Confucian contemporaries. Zhu’s caricatures of his contemporaries influenced many late-imperial and twentieth-­century scholars; therefore, such scholarship either discounted Zhu contemporaries or portrayed them as antagonistic competitors with ideas diametrically opposed to Zhu Xi’s philosophy. In reading recent research publications to write this topical overview, it became increasingly evident that the early 1990s marked a significant “turn” toward more balanced and positive evaluations of Zhu’s contemporaries. Major scholars in China gave markedly more favorable accounts of Zhu’s major contemporaries. Cai Fanglu 蔡方鹿 published a book on Zhang Shi; moreover, Zhu Hanmin 朱漢民, and Chen Gujia 陳谷嘉 added their book on Zhang Shi’s Huxiang School (Cai 1991; Zhu and Chen 1992). Pan Fuen 潘富恩 and Xu Yuqing 徐余慶 contributed major works on Lü Zuqian (Pan and Xu 1992a, b). Zhang Liwen 張立文 expounded on Lu Jiuyuan’s philosophy, and Xu Jifang’s 徐 紀芳 book explored Lu’s disciples (Zhang L. 1992; Xu J. 1990). Tillman’s 1982 book and articles positively re-evaluating Chen Liang’s thought and his debate with Zhu Xi had become widely known in China during the 1980s. Moreover, his 1992 Confucian Discourse set forth evidence that a number of Zhu’s contemporaries had far more influence on Zhu’s ideas and ascendency than traditional scholars had recognized. Tillman’s book, as well as his exchange with Wm. Theodore de Bary in Philosophy East and West, pointedly called for taking Zhu’s contemporaries seriously as thinkers in their own right and as crucial interlocutors in the evolution of Daoxue and Zhu’s ascendancy (Tillman 1992a, b). Tillman’s work thus represents this larger “turn” in approaching Zhu Xi within the context of his contemporaries. Scholarship since the 1990s has largely continued this turn by highlighting the contributions of Zhu’s contemporaries and their shared commitments to moral cultivation and fundamental reforms of the sociopolitical world. For instance, Yu Yingshi 余英時 has compellingly drawn attention to their shared political project for major reforms (Yu 2003: 2:25–97). Reflecting this major transformation in academic attitudes, this chapter will center on four of Zhu Xi’s contemporary philosophers: Zhang Shi, Lü Zuqian, Chen Liang, and Lu Jiuyuan. Other contemporaries briefly appear to help convey the connections and interactions among these principal thinkers, as well as the ebb and flow of ideas within and among branches of the Confucian fellowship of Zhu’s day. Although the vast majority of Zhu’s contemporaries received scant attention during

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most of the twentieth century, scholarship is becoming so plentiful that this chapter can only use examples to sketch general patterns. The primary objective is to provide an overview that clarifies the turn in scholarship in the early 1990s and subsequent aspects of the larger trajectory of relevant research. Overall, shared roots in both the Confucian classics and major Northern Song Confucian thought enabled Zhu and these contemporaries to engage in productive discussions about differences over aspects of, and approaches to, their moral, philosophical and political goals.

2 Huxiang School of Thought and Zhang Shi The area of the Hu and Xiang Rivers, that is, today’s Hunan and Hubei provinces, rose in prominence during the twelfth century due largely to the influence of two immigrant families: the Hu family from northern Fujian, and the Zhang family from Sichuan. Hu Anguo 胡安國 (1074–1138), who declared himself a follower of Cheng Hao 程顥 (1032–1085) and Cheng Yi 程頤 (1033–1107), laid the intellectual cornerstone of this Huxiang branch of Daoxue; moreover, along with one of their major disciples, Yang Shi 楊時 (1053–1135), Hu compiled an early version of the recorded conversations of the Cheng brothers. Hu’s major work was a commentary on the Spring and Autumn Annals (Chunqiu 春秋), which emphasized resisting “barbarians” and became the official interpretation of this classic from the thirteenth to the mid-seventeenth centuries (van Ess 2003). Soon after Hu’s death, the emperor bestowed land that restored the family’s financial security. Hu Hong 胡宏 (1105–1161) continued the family’s focus on national history and politics with his Great Record of Emperors and Kings (Huangwang daji 皇王大紀) (van Ess 2010). This focus is also evident in his major philosophical work, Understanding of Words (Zhiyan 知言). Although most scholars have concentrated on the philosophical statements on human nature (xing 性), van Ess demonstrates the larger political context. Political issues of dynastic legitimacy and foreign conquest frame his Understanding of Words: the first chapter deals with “what Heaven (tian 天) has conferred,” or the “Mandate of Heaven” (tianming 天命), and the last chapter with the “Central Plain” (zhongyuan 中原), the area from which the Jurchen had expelled the Song dynasty. Instead of the usual philosophical meanings of “essence” or “substance” (ti 體) and “principles,” “coherent patterns” or “norms” (li 理), Hu employed these terms, “ti” and “li,” to mean “to incorporate” and “to order” things (van Ess 2003, 2010: 115–22). Such usage reflects that he focused on restoring order to society and polity; moreover, he championed a revival of the ancient idealized model of the well-field system (jingtian 井田) of government allocation of land to families or clans as the prerequisite economic basis or institution. What most scholars have focused on are the philosophical pronouncements in Understanding of Words about the heart/mind (xin 心) and the inner nature, which drew Zhu Xi’s censure. Hu proclaimed, “What Heaven has conferred is the nature. Human nature is the heart/mind” (Hu 1987: 4, tr., van Ess 2010: 111). Moreover, “Human nature cannot but move, and once it moves it is the heart/mind” (Hu 1987:

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336; van Ess 2010: 116). From Zhu’s perspective, Hu misunderstood the inner nature, confusing it with the heart/mind and even with human emotions. Zhu centered his philosophy on the virtue of human nature as Heaven’s principle within a person; consequently, he charged Hu with diluting the importance of human nature and Heaven’s norms. Moreover, what Zhu regarded as “Heaven’s norms” or “principles” inherent in human nature were to Hu simply abstract norms that served as an inspiring goal for human action. Although Hu was hostile to Buddhism, Zhu viewed Hu’s conceptions of the heart/mind and inner nature as essentially Buddhist (Tillman 1992b: 30–36; van Ess 2010: 110–15). Nonetheless, Hu perceived himself as a champion for Daoxue, as he admonished his students, “Daoxue is waning, and customs and doctrines are decadent; we disciples ought to give our lives to shouldering this burden” (Hu 1987: 147; Tillman 1992b: 29). Zhang Shi was the student inheriting Hu Hong’s burden for Daoxue, and the one who edited Understanding of Words. Zhang was the son of Zhang Jun 張浚 (1097–1164), the war-party leader in the 1130s who was called back to serve when the Jurchen invaded again in the early 1160s. Given this prominent background, his own intelligence and exceptional service as an official, and his role as master of the Yuelu Academy (Yuelu shuyuan 嶽麓書院), which was the first officially endorsed Song academy, it is not surprising that Zhang Shi emerged as the leading figure within Daoxue, especially from 1164 to 1168. He and Lü Zuqian are widely considered to be Zhu Xi’s two closest friends; moreover, Zhu praised Zhang as a “pure Confucian” (chun ru 醇儒) and as having the “virtue of Daoxue” (Tillman 1992b; Tillman and Soffel 2010: 126). The most enduring evaluation of Zhang was set forth in the seventeenth century in China’s premier intellectual history, the Song and Yuan Case Studies (Song Yuan xue’an 宋元學案): Zhang Shi was like Cheng Hao, and Zhu Xi was like Cheng Yi (Huang and Quan 1986: [50] 1609). Launching from that evaluation, Mou Zongsan 牟宗三 (1909–1995) advanced the judgment that Zhang was much closer to Mencius (Mengzi) 孟子 (372–289 BCE) than were the schools of either Zhu Xi or Lu Jiuyuan. Mou still faulted Zhang for having failed to defend Cheng Hao and Hu Hong’s Mencian tradition; moreover, Zhang’s yielding to Zhu resulted in Zhu’s peripheral views becoming orthodox from the Song to the twentieth century (Mou 1968–1969). Although Tillman reinforced some of these judgments about Zhang’s affinity with Cheng Hao and the decline of the Huxiang School, Tillman highlighted Zhang’s prominence during his lifetime and his influence on Zhu’s views, especially regarding self-cultivation and humaneness (Tillman 1992b; Tillman and Soffel 2010). As evident in an evaluation of 40 years of Chinese scholarship on Zhang, the above judgments continue to echo among contemporary scholars (Zou 2015). Two notable examples are perhaps adequate to illustrate this point. Philosopher Xiang Shiling 向世陵 lauds Zhang for a synthesis of Huxiang learning; however, he also asserts that Zhang never achieved a complete breakthrough regarding Hu Hong’s views on inner nature, but rather abandoned the school’s special character in his discussions with Zhu (Xiang 2000). Li Kexing 李可心 faults Zhang for lacking in initiative and creativity; moreover, Zhang concentrated so much on disciplined practice that his philosophical voice was drowned out by Zhu’s.

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Furthermore, his views of inner nature and the heart/mind were plagued with discrepancies (Li K. 2016). Zhang’s views about the inner nature and the heart/mind—particularly in relation to Mencius, Cheng Hao and Hu Hong—were actually nuanced and quite complex. For example, whereas Mencius utilized the metaphor of water’s natural flow downward to support his claim that inner nature was originally and essentially good. Cheng changed the metaphor to pure water and water carrying silt to explain how people easily do bad things; moreover, Cheng asserted that one could not deny that evil or ethical dysfunctionality was not present in human nature (Xu B. 2017). Hu extended this perspective to assert that the inner nature transcended good and evil; somewhat surprisingly, he did so to project the inner nature as an absolute and as the foundation for all things. Zhang expanded upon Hu’s assertion by equating the inner nature with the principles or norms of all things. Therefore, Zhang and Hu actually turned away from Mencius’ penchant for reserving the term (human) nature to refer to what distinguished the human from other creatures and things. At the same time, Zhang diverged from Hu’s perception that the inner nature was neither good nor evil, turning Zhang back toward Mencius. Nonetheless, Mencius had regarded the “four beginnings” or “seeds” (“commiseration,” “shame and dislike,” “deference and compliance,” and “right and wrong”) in human nature as more fundamental than their manifestation of the four virtues (humaneness, rightness, propriety, and wisdom). Specifically, Zhang regarded the virtues as the inner nature and the beginnings as the heart/mind. Zhang identified the virtues with the not-yet-expressed state within the inner nature, but their expressed state with the heart/mind; ultimately, he made a sharper distinction than Mencius had indicated between the inner nature and the heart/mind. Although Zhang asserted that the inner nature possessed all principles or norms, he also claimed that principle and the heart/mind were one, and did not have to await integration—a unity that Zhu rejected. Zhang proclaimed, “The heart/mind is that which links the manifold myriad activities and controls the manifold myriad principles in order to be lord of the myriads of things” (Zhang S. 2015: [12] 938). Somewhat surprisingly, despite his claim that principles and the heart/mind were one, he rejected the subjectivism of simply getting in touch with the norms within one’s heart/mind (as Lu Jiuyuan would be regarded as proposing); instead, Zhang insisted upon rigorous investigation of things and the extension of knowledge through education (as Zhu did). Furthermore, along with explaining the rise of dysfunctional evil as a natural result of the physical body and its interactions with things, Zhang set human desires in opposition to Heaven’s norms as expressed through the struggle between what brought utility or personal advantage (li 利) and integrity or what was right (yi 義). This oppositional conflict between human desires and Heaven’s norms aligned him more with Cheng Yi than with Cheng Hao (Tillman 1992b; Tillman and Soffel 2010; also Zhu and Chen 1992; Chen G. 2006; Cai 1991; Zhang H. 2013). In recent years, research has become increasingly meticulous, especially related to Zhang’s view of the inner nature and the Supreme Ultimate (also referred to as the Supreme Polarity, taiji 太極). Moreover, the enhanced diversity and scope of Zhang Shi studies radiates within the twenty-seven essays in a recent Chinese

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c­ onference volume focused on Zhang (Zhou 2016). For instance, there are essays ranging from his studies of the classics, particularly the Changes (Yi 易) and the Odes (Shi 詩), to his philosophy of rituals and on to the relevance of his educational views to schooling today. To participants of their special 2017 conference on Zhang Shi and Zhu Xi, the organizers at the Yuelu Academy distributed copies of a new book on Zhang’s letters (Ren and Gu 2017). In short, the tempo of Zhang Shi studies is quickening, and there is enhanced appreciation of his contributions to Daoxue. For centuries, most discussion of Zhang’s philosophy has centered on his supporting role in Zhu Xi’s maturation toward his own philosophical synthesis, particularly his views on self-cultivation. The classic Zhongyong 中庸 (often called “The Doctrine of the Mean,” but more accurately “The Middle and the Means”) promoted equilibrium as the ideal state before one’s emotions were aroused or expressed, and harmony when one’s feelings were expressed, but within proper measure and degree (Soffel and Tillman 2012: 42). Cheng Yi’s enhanced rigor about self-cultivation required a discipline of preserving and nourishing the feelings, as they were aroused in the heart/mind, and examining the feelings after they were expressed by the heart/mind. In the Huxiang area, Zhang followed Hu Hong’s conception that the inner nature and heart/mind were intrinsically as one. Consequently, he advocated extending knowledge into action more than being concerned about nourishing the feelings in quiet sitting and self-cultivation (Su 2007; Tillman and Soffel 2010). On this issue, Zhu Xi’s was under the influence of Yang Shi, who in Fujian had developed an alternative tradition from the Chengs that focused on quiet setting in meditation on the feelings before they became aroused; however, Zhu’s analytical penchant left him dissatisfied with Yang’s approach. Attracted to Zhang’s approach, Zhu visited him at the Yuelu Academy in 1167. During their in-person discussions, Zhang persuaded Zhu to associate the not-yet-aroused state of the feelings with the inner nature and the already-expressed state with the heart/mind. Upon returning to Fujian, Zhu wrote four letters documenting such shifts toward Zhang’s perspective; however, before long he appended a notation to declare that the viewpoint expressed in the four letters was erroneous. He also complained that after abandoning Yang’s focus on meditation, he felt a decline in ethical rigor. In 1169, he wrote to Zhang and declared that both stages of the emotions belonged to the substance and function of the heart/mind alone, not to the inner nature. In 1172, his preface to “[My] Old Views of Equilibrium and Harmony” (Zhong he jiu shuo 中和舊說) set forth the evolution of his thinking and how he reached what he regarded as the correct and balanced view (Chen L. 2007; Liu S. 1989; Mou 1968–1969). This evolution through and beyond his inherited Fujian approach, as well as the approach advocated by his Hunan friends, marked a major breakthrough in his own confidence in his philosophical maturity and authority. According to Zhu, Zhang approved this new synthesis; however, it is difficult to document a change in Zhang’s perspective, since Zhu did not include many of Zhang’s letters and writings when Zhu edited and published Zhang’s works (Tillman 1992b; Tillman and Soffel 2010). Zhang’s influence on Zhu has also been difficult to document regarding their series of exchanges seeking to redefine the virtue of humaneness (ren 仁) to correct

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imbalanced or partial views, especially those set forth by the Cheng brothers and many of their disciples who deemphasized love in favor of an emphasis on ethical norms or philosophical principles. Zhu’s formulation has for centuries been lauded as the ultimate definition of humaneness as “the principle of love” (ai zhi li 愛之理) and “the virtue of the heart/mind” (xin zhi de 心之德). Many traditional and twentieth-­century scholars even asserted that Zhang capitulated to Zhu to such a degree that Zhang’s culminating essay was actually written by Zhu (Chan 1989). Nonetheless, Liu Shuxian 劉述先 (1934–2016) and Tillman pointed to Zhu’s later letter to Lü Zuqian’s younger brother, in which Zhu declared that the phrase “virtue of the heart/mind” was Zhang’s suggestion, one that Zhu initially rejected (Liu S. 1983; Tillman 1992b). An even more crucial find was Chen Lai’s 陳來 discovery in the 1980s of an alternative Song-era version of Master Zhang’s Explanation of the Supreme Ultimate’s Meaning (Zhangzi taiji jie yi 張子太極解意) that highlights the importance of Zhang’s promotion of Zhou Dunyi’s 周敦頤 (1017–1073) status in Daoxue, which has traditionally been credited almost totally to Zhu (Chen L. 2007; Zhang S. 2007; Deng G. 1989). These discoveries foreshadowed the trend in recent scholarship to give more credit to Zhang’s influence on Zhu than scholars conventionally had recognized.

3 Lü Zuqian and the Zhedong School Zhedong (today’s Zhejiang province) Confucians were in particularly close communication and enjoyed equal and productive interactions with the Confucians in the Hunan area. These relationships were largely rooted in the personal friendships and respect between two branches from the Cheng brothers passed down through the Hu family and the Lü family. Another link between the two areas was Zhang Jiucheng 張九成 (1092–1159), whose conception of the learning of the heart/mind influenced both the Hu family and the Lü family (Liu Y. 2007, 2013; Yang 2013). Moreover, these and other principal thinkers in both Hunan and Zhedong shared a profound commitment to government service and especially to the expulsion of Jurchen conquerors from the North China heartland. Such family influence was particularly significant in Lü Zuqian’s thought and actions, since he was a member of a family whose service as high officials and scholars was unsurpassed from the late tenth through the late twelfth centuries. With the family legacy of loyalty to, and optimism about, the Song dynastic house and its potential for significant social and institutional reforms, he dedicated much of his time to practical and educational writings about history and institutions that would advance understanding and training in governance. The Lü family had also long been famous for its extensive library, Central Plains Literary Collection (Zhongyuan wenxian 中原文獻) and for not limiting its learning to one teacher or narrow school of thought. Yet, as Jiang Weisheng 蔣偉勝 has also argued, writings from the Northern Song, especially the Cheng brothers and Zhang Zai 張載 (1020–1077), characterized this library collection and was at the

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core of Lü’s philosophy (Jiang 2016). Notably, Lü quite naturally expressed such depth and breadth in his comprehensive (characterized by Mou Zongsan as monistic and Kai Marchal as organic) approach to learning, as well as in his linking of the classics to history and self-cultivation to political and institutional action (Mou 1968–1969: 2:1–21; Marchal 2010: 202). As part of his openness to the contributions of the work of early philosophies associated with the Daoxue tradition, he sought to preserve their original works, as when he criticized Zhu Xi’s comments on Zhou Dunyi’s “Explanation of the Diagram of the Supreme Ultimate” (Lü 2008: 1:WJ [16] 589; Marchal 2010: 202). Earlier, he was the one who consistently defended Hu Hong and opposed Zhu making changes in the text of Hu’s Understanding of Words (Tillman 1992b: 65). Building upon Cheng Hao, Zhang Jiucheng and Zhang Shi’s emphasis on the heart/mind, Lü identified the heart/mind directly with principle or pattern. In contrast, Zhu focused on Cheng Yi’s singular pronouncement—human nature is principle—to establish the viewpoint that human nature, but not the heart/mind, was principle. While Zhu tended to portray Heaven’s principles and human desires as antagonistic opposites, Lü confirmed human emotions and sought harmony, or even fusion, between Heaven’s principles and human emotions or desires (Xiao Y. 2003; Cai 2014). Understandably, Lü’s approach to self-cultivation was closer to Zhang Shi’s emphasis on scrutinizing one’s ethical practice amidst activity, rather than to Zhu’s priority to holding fast in meditation amidst tranquility. Lü Zuqian’s enhanced attention to self-cultivation’s externally oriented aspect in activity was consistent with practical learning in the actual world or “real learning” (shixue 實學), and this “ordering the world” or “statecraft” (jingshi zhi yong 經世 致用) orientation became a hallmark of Zhedong Confucianism. So-called “real learning” adopted the slogan, “Don’t value empty talk, but value real action” and advocated research “that is sure to be useful to the present time” (Pan and Xu 1992a, b). Nevertheless, others still emphasize basic compatibilities. For instance, because Lü’s philosophy of self-cultivation and practical learning extended to advocating that utility and integrity be integrated, such “utilitarian learning” (gonglixue 功利 學) had points of compatibility with Zhu’s moralistic school of principle, so the two were not diametrically opposed viewpoints (Cai 2014). A major area of cooperation between Lü and Zhu was the development of academies. Tillman asserted the importance of both men to the academy movement and Lü’s influence on, and help to, Zhu in this area. Lü had greater numbers of students and more experience in developing guidelines before Zhu did. Most importantly, Lü assisted Zhu in gaining resources for the restoration of the White Deer Grotto (Bailudong 白鹿洞) Academy; therefore, as Zhu requested, Lü wrote the dedicatory record of the restoration of that most famous of Song academies. Zhu’s setting guidelines for academy students and utilizing academies to promote his ascendancy as the authoritative reader of the classics and the Daoxue tradition was so successful that his role in the academy movement soon eclipsed that of his deceased friend (Tillman 1992b). Commitment to statecraft thought led Lü Zuqian to devote much time to researching changes in ancient and recent history to understand the present state of, and

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lessons for, governance. For instance, he told students that instead of regarding history as vast numbers of facts stored in their memory, they should observe how things change. Moreover, while reading historical sources, they should pause before continuing in order to place themselves in the situation of that time, consider solutions, and contemplate outcomes (Tillman 1992b: 97). Many of his historical works were products of his teaching. For example, his guide to writing historical essays for the civil service examinations was Master Donglai’s Extensive Deliberations on the Zuo Commentary (Donglai boyi 東萊博議). Unfortunately, his Chronicle of Major Events (Da shi ji 大事記) only reached to the year 90 BCE before illness and his early demise halted this grand effort to continue the Zuozhuan 左傳 tradition. A major focus in his historical works was institutional development; for instance, his Detailed Explanations of Institutions throughout the Ages (Lidai zhidu xiangshuo 歷代制度詳說) provided annotations to selected source materials on institutional history. Conceptions of historical studies also differentiated Lü and Zhu. Whereas Zhu gave far greater status to the classics, Lü gave equal emphasis to the classics and history. While both men advocated the governance of the golden age of the ancient Three Dynasties, Zhu projected Heaven’s principles and the discipline of self-­ cultivation as the conceptual norms, but Lü focused on actual historical results of institutions. In their evaluations of historical figures, Zhu concentrated on moral issues, and Lü paid greater attention to institutional matters. In discussing historians, Zhu looked primarily at their moral cultivation, while Lü paid less attention to a historian’s personal character, but rather used history to explicate history. Philosophically, Zhu viewed history from within his perspective of Heaven’s principle, but Lü incorporated Heaven’s principles into history (Li T. 2012; Dong 2005). Kai Marchal has provided the most thorough study in any Western language of Lü’s political thought and its relationship to Zhu’s. Both men promoted the Confucian moral ideal in which individual self-cultivation of virtue would ultimately enable a radical transformation of society and governance. They also inherited this confidence, especially from Mencius and Northern Song Confucians, in moral agency in society and polity. Despite their shared roots in these Confucian traditions, Lü persisted more than Zhu in the ideal and possibility of radical Confucian reforms. Relative to Lü, Zhu turned more away from the national political project of fundamental sociopolitical reform and toward an enhanced focus on the moral life of the individual and the local community. Lü did reveal frustrations from political disappointment in his last couple of years, so his Confucian confidence in moral agency to fundamentally transform society and polity might have wavered, too, if he had lived as long as Zhu. Nonetheless, there are significant differences in their pronouncements about the Confucian political project and institutional reforms (Marchal 2010, 2011). Many of these differences surely reflect their relative access to political influence; however, there are philosophical divergences as well. For example, Lü was far more inclined than Zhu toward positive evaluations of Wang Anshi 王安石 (1021–1086). Wang’s major institutional reform to strengthen the central government and its army had sought to promote the growing commercial

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economy and utilize the revenues to enhance the spread of the monetarization of the economy and the efficiency of the state. Although Lü also expressed criticism of Wang, Lü articulated a similar goal, which Marchal characterized as “a large-scale remodeling of the institutional framework of the state by an active government which responded to social and political challenges with a comprehensive system of institutional innovations” (Marchal 2010: 209). Lü’s institutional and historical studies not only provided specific institutions and ideas for reforms, but also enabled him to be more realistic than most within the Daoxue camp about restoring the ancient ideals of the Zhou social and political order, which had been idealized in the classic, Rites of Zhou (Zhouli 周禮). For instance, the goal to reinstate the idealized well-field system had become even more remote after Yang Yan 楊炎 enhanced the monetarization of the economy in 780 and removed obstacles to the market in land purchases. Nonetheless, Lü remained quite confident that practical steps could achieve a return to a society where lineages and local militia restored institutional order and Confucian family values in society. For example, he wrote that although restoring all aspects of ancient institutions would be extremely difficult, it would be possible to begin by restricting private property and restoring local militias (Marchal 2010: 211). Marchal also enhances the defense of Lü from modern skepticism that appears to echo some of Zhu Xi’s criticisms of Lü’s learning as being mixed with diverse traditions and inadequately focused on what was fundamental. For instance, Zhu agreed with a student’s characterization that Lü “had exercised disciplined effort only on broad, adulterated learning, but did not carefully investigate important essential principles” (Zhu 1986: [122] 2949). Tillman had earlier pointed out that almost all of Zhu’s hostile criticisms arose after his close friend died and Zhu encountered what he regarded as the legacy of Lü’s errors in the thinking of Chen Liang and others in Zhedong (Tillman 1992b). Similarly, Chinese scholarship now also points to Zhu’s quest for supremacy and effort to restrict Zhedong influences as crucial factors in his later harsh criticisms of Lü (e.g., Liu Z. 2004). In contrast to Peter Bol’s characterization of Lü as a “compartmentalizing pedant” (Bol 1998), Marchal provides examples of how Lü had sought to integrate self-cultivation and institutional realities from history and society of his era. Much of Lü’s research focused on exploring relationships between self-cultivation and political power. Championing the responsibility of literati to handle governmental administration, he sought to persuade the emperor to restore the traditional checks and balances on the emperor’s actions that regular decision-making in the bureaucracy provided (Xu R. 2005; Du 2007). While Zhu sought to convince the emperor to restrict his own power voluntarily, Lü saw the necessity of institutional restrictions. One factor in the government’s move to embrace Zhu’s philosophy instead of Lü’s was that Zhu’s focus on the moral transformation of the emperor’s mind made Lü’s institutional approach for literati to restrict the emperor’s actions seem illegitimate and more hostile. Intriguingly, as Marchal asserts, Lü “seems to have realized the political consequences of this ‘internalization’ of morality earlier than other thinkers” (Marchal 2010: 212–18).

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Another skepticism about Lü’s leading role within the Daoxue fellowship from 1168 to 1181 is set forth in the query—Why did he not specifically use the term “Daoxue” nearly as often as Zhu did? (De Weerdt 2012: 472) One consideration arises when we remember another contrast between the two men despite the many areas of shared agreement and cooperation. In addition to his broader and more comprehensive approach to learning, Lü identified the group as a political faction earlier than Zhu did. Therein, he reflected the earlier stage of Daoxue as a social and political alliance of reformers whose political ideals enabled them to tolerate a considerable spectrum of Confucian ideas. In contrast, Zhu had a penchant for simplifying complex issues into stark moral choices for educational and ideological purposes, so his usage of Daoxue as a divisive or polarizing term fit his agenda more than Lü’s. After Lü’s death, Zhu increasingly focused on a tighter synthesis that reflected his perception of “pure Confucians” and increasingly excluded from the Daoxue circle those he regarded as contaminated by other ideas (Tillman 1992b; Tian 2009b). Since Zhu focused on ideological purity and his own ultimate authority as the reader of the classics and tradition, it is not at all surprising that Zhu would much more often seize upon such terms as Daoxue as well as the transmission and succession of the Way (daotong 道統) in his quest for philosophical and ideological purity. Zhu’s quest would become pronounced not only after Zhu asserted his own leadership in his 1181 eulogy to Lü, but especially after Zhu confronted challenges from Chen Liang and Lu Jiuyuan during that decade (Tillman 1992b). Overall, after twentieth-century scholars largely neglected Lü Zuqian, there has been copious scholarship since 1992 on his life and works; moreover, almost all reinforces Tillman’s evaluation of Lü as a thinker and leading figure of Daoxue from 1168 to 1181 (Tillman 1992b). Major points include: (1) Lü’s importance as a philosopher and the “alliance leader of this culture of ours” (zhu meng siwen 主盟斯 文), and not merely as a sociopolitical elite, historian and literary scholar (Pan 2009); (2) his role in establishing the intellectual foundations of the three regional schools of Zhedong thought, especially regarding the learning of the heart/mind and in merging historical and classical studies (Du 2012, 2014); (3) his comprehensive learning that did not negate his core intellectual linkage to Zhang Zai and the Cheng brothers but also extended to his commitment to self-cultivation of virtue (Liu Y. 2016); (4) his role as the crucial leader of Daoxue Confucians despite his not being restricted to one teacher or narrow school of thought (Jiang 2012); (5) his greater influence on Zhu Xi’s views of the classics (especially the Odes and the Changes), academies and selections of passages in their co-edited Reflections on Things at Hand (Jinsi lu 近思錄), and so on; and his continuing influence on Zhedong thinkers through the late imperial era (Cheng and Guo 2014).

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4 Chen Liang Among those over whom Lü Zuqian exercised considerable influence, Chen Liang was the most controversial. Chen hailed from Yongkang, which was near Lü’s base in Jinhua; however, Chen’s family background and personality was strikingly different. Chen’s great grandfather had about 28 acres of rice farmland, but was killed while fighting the Jurchen invasion of the 1120s, and the family soon had to sell those acres. Chen Liang was the one to buy back those acres in the early 1180s and the first in his family to pass the civil service examinations, finally earning the capstone degree (jinshi 進士) in 1193, only a few months before he died on his way to take up his first governmental post. Without the social status that the Hu, Zhang or Lü families enjoyed, he had to struggle to climb in society; moreover, the Jurchen invasion had an exceptionally negative impact on his life and resources, thereby enhancing his obsession with his family’s penchant for military affairs and national security. For instance, his 1168 “Discourses on Restoration” (Zhongxing lun 中興 論) sought to persuade the emperor on how to restore the Song dynasty’s territory and power; however, after receiving no response, disappointment compelled him to pursue self-cultivation and study Daoxue masters for 10 years. Indeed, his 1173 preface to comments by three Northern Song masters on governmental affairs was so characteristically Daoxue that, after Lü passed it along to Zhu Xi, it was included in Zhu’s collected writings until Tillman drew attention to this erroneous attribution to Zhu (Tillman 1982). In 1178, Chen wrote a preface to his essays on restoration in which he vented his frustration that the 10 years of self-cultivation and study of the Daoxue masters had failed to transform his character or bring him tranquility. In his continuing ambition to advise the emperor about war policy and national affairs, he had written three memorials to the emperor in 1178. Twice, when court advisors sent envoys to debrief Chen, he refused to talk with them, but wrote another memorial requesting a personal audience with the emperor. Progressively impressed, the emperor ordered that Chen be given an office, but a disgusted Chen rejected any ordinary post because he wanted to advise the emperor on national policy. Admonished by Lü, Chen reigned in his impetuous behavior; however, not long after he met Zhu for the first time and guided Zhu to Lü’s gravesite, Chen sent Zhu ten essays setting forth strong ideas in 1182. Zhu found the essays so shocking that he wrote to Chen to explain that the essays were too unconventional to share with others. Nonetheless, Chen’s years spent studying Daoxue gave him a level of philosophical sophistication with which he could engage Zhu in debate in a series of letters in the mid-1180s (Tillman 1982, 1992b; Dong 1996; Tian 2009b; Deng G. 2007). For instance, Chen followed Confucius (Kongzi 孔子, 551–479 BCE) in his penchant to flexibly “weigh” (quan 權) times and circumstances in making ethical decisions in difficult situations (Analects 9.30). We can gloss quan as “situational weighing,” “moral discretion,” and/or “expediency.” Zhu usually reduced the term to mere “expediency”—unless a sage was the one making the decision on a minor matter that would not serve as a precedent for others. Specifically, Zhu projected

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quan as the polar opposite of “the classical standard” (jing 經), just as Confucius had contrasted the morally superior person, who understood integrity or what was right, and the petty person, who understood only advantage and utility (Analects 4.16). Although Zhu was of course also interested in practical results, he claimed that enduring accomplishment arose only from integrity; therefore, he gave high priority to what he judged to be right and so regarded ethical standards to be absolute and unchanging. However, Chen perceived quan to be compatible with integrity and inherent in what is right (Tillman 1982). To explain his holistic view of integrity and utility, Chen boldly drew attention to conceptual pairs where Daoxue Confucians had absolutized differences. For example, Confucians had long contrasted the “kingly way” (wangdao 王道) of governance versus the “hegemon’s way” (badao 霸道) of domination, as well as the golden age of the Three Dynasties 三代 (Xia, Shang, and Zhou) in antiquity versus later imperial dynasties (even the Han and Tang dynasties). Daoxue made the contrast even stronger in its absoluteness by identifying the Three Dynasties with Heaven’s principles, and the Han and Tang with sordid human desires. For instance, although Zhu Xi as a scholar acknowledged that the difference between kings and hegemons was institutionalized in antiquity, he largely ignored institutional issues when he moralistically condemned hegemon for their heart/minds focused on achievements and advantages. By contrast, Chen was attentive to the institutional role of the hegemons as the generalissimo serving the Zhou king and striving to restore internal order and repeal outside threats; this showed that the hegemon shared in the king’s goals. Chen also drew attention to the fact that Guan Zhong 管 仲 (d. 645 BCE), the chief advisor to the first hegemon, was the one whom Confucius praised as having the highest virtue of humaneness as evident in his saving the Zhou states from barbarism (Analects 14.17). Seemingly then, Guan’s accomplishments or results vindicated his virtue. Rejecting Zhu’s caricature of the greatest Han and Tang emperors as merely engaging shortsighted and crass expediency, as if breaking down parts of a house to patch other leaking parts during a raging storm, Chen asserted that Zhu unfairly dismissed such heroic leaders who were certainly grounded in kingly governance. All of their accomplishments arose from one heart/ mind. Chen was asserting his rejection of any abstracted realm of virtue that transcended the world of human actions. As Tillman asserts, integrity and utility, kingship and hegemony, etc., were unifiable into one practical standard in Chen’s holistic perspective (Tillman 1982, 1992b; Tian 2009b). As Tillman also highlighted, Chen’s most striking challenge was his claim that the golden age of the Three Dynasties appeared superior to the best reigns of the Han and Tang dynasty only because Confucius had “washed clean” the records while editing the Classics (Tillman 1982, 1992b; Tian 2009b). Confucius had a noble purpose in producing a “grand narrative” (zhengda benzi 正大本子), or ideal type, to serve as a guide to restore sociopolitical order in the face of Daoist criticisms of the futility of government (Chen L. 1987: [28] 352, 344). Chen’s radical claim potentially undermined confidence in the reliability of Confucius and the Classics. Furthermore, declaring that the classical ideal of the Three Dynasties was

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fabricated  also shook the grounds that Confucians employed when admonishing emperors about their shortcomings to achieve the ideal. Yet, despite such devastating implications in Chen’s claim, Zhu sidestepped the issue and changed the subject by dismissing Chen as “pointing to iron as if it were gold and, without knowing their faults, to regard bandits as sons” (Zhu 2002: [36] 1591). Tillman further pointed out that some of Zhu’s statements to his students demonstrate realization that the Three Dynasties and the Classics were not as pure or ideal as conventionally assumed; thus, he could not directly answer Chen’s challenge about Confucius and the Classics (Tillman 1982: 133–52, 1992a, b: 168–78; Tian 2009b). Some scholars, especially Conrad Schirokauer (1929–2018), have told Tillman that we can only say that Zhu did not directly respond to this challenge, but we cannot say that Zhu obviously had no adequate response; however, Yu Yingshi has expressed his agreement with Tillman’s judgment on this matter (Tian 2009a, b). In any case, scholars continue to recount Chen’s discussion of kings and hegemons as well as the Han and Tang emperors (e.g., Deng G. 2007; Wang X. 2011). What has evoked the most criticism of Tillman’s account of Chen Liang is the apparent use of the modern term for “utilitarianism” (gongli zhuyi 功利主義) based upon Zhu Xi’s negative characterization of Chen’s position as “gongli” (功利). Zhu specifically condemned the obsession of people, like Chen, with results (gong 功) and advantage/profit/utility (li 利). For instance, castigating the hegemons that Chen championed, Zhu claimed that if Guan Zhong and the hegemons had acted in accordance with public interest, they could have implemented kingly governance; however, their “gongli” heart/minds led them to cloak their selfish motives with feigned humaneness (Zhu 1986: [25] 629). Following Zhu, Chinese scholars in the mid-twentieth century continued to employ “gongli” to categorize Chen’s thought, but tended to use the term loosely to convey Chen’s concern for practical results (e.g., Xiao G. 1968: 4.449–81; Hou 1960: 4B.692–739). Cultural Revolution radicals praised Chen as a stalwart “Legalist” (fajia 法家) because of his hostile attacks on Zhu’s orthodox Confucianism. These old interpretations have apparently dominated the perception of a few Chinese scholars in recent years, who criticize existing scholarship for using the concept of “utilitarianism.” On the one hand, for example, Zhang Rulan 張汝倫 characterizes the focus on utilitarianism as merely imposed inappropriately from Western culture (Zhang R. 2012). On the other hand, Ding Weixiang’s 丁為祥 claims that Chinese scholars have always characterized Zhu’s debate with Chen as “a debate over kingly and hegemonic governance and between integrity and utility,” and so have neglected the larger philosophical and historical issues (Ding 2013). Although Ding rightly notes that this generalization was made from Zhu’s perspective, Ding ignores Tillman’s demonstrations of how unfair the legacy of such characterizations from Zhu Xi and twentieth-century scholars were. Tillman utilized the Encyclopedia of Philosophy to define utilitarianism as a doctrine that judges the rightness or appropriateness of an action by its consequences. Issues such as whether the action is good for one individual or for society demark particular versions of utilitarianism. Clearly then, Tillman acknowledges that Chen’s Confucian-based “utilitarianism” was not the same as Bentham’s nineteen-century cultural version in the West. Chen’s utilitarian ethic of end results emphasized two

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goals: attaining concrete results; and maximizing benefits or advantages for the country and society (Tillman 1982: 6–7, 10–18; Tian 2009b). Tillman emphasized that Chen’s thought was best understood within its Confucian context; therefore, Chen’s utilitarian challenge to Zhu was within the scope of a Song Confucian discourse, and Chen sought to persuade Zhu on Confucian grounds. Another of the major areas of Chen’s debate with Zhu centered on Dao 道 (the Way) and history: specifically to what degree do changes in history affect values? In the debate, Chen charged Zhu with holding the view that the Dao was no longer present after the end of the era of the ancient sage-kings. Therefore, earlier scholars interpreted this discussion as a speculative one grounded in metaphysics, for example, materialism versus idealism. To rectify this traditional understanding, Tillman began by pointing out that the confusion arose, in part, because scholars generally ignored Chen’s ten essays that initiated the debate in 1183 (Tillman 1982, 1992b). In those essays, Chen himself had spoken of the Dao in terms such as the Dao of even the legendary Yu 禹 the Great “could not be maintained for long.” If we place such claims in the context of letters exchanged during the debate, Tillman shows that Chen was projecting to Zhu a Dao that was changing or transitory, yet continuously present in history. Chen’s larger view of the Dao relative to time and situation challenged Zhu’s assumptions about unchanging, archetypal values (Tillman 1982, 1992b). Obviously, the debate concerned values, not speculative or metaphysical philosophy. As Zhu observed, “The premise of your view is simply that antiquity and contemporary times are different, and the doings of the sages and worthy statesmen cannot be completely accepted as the standard” (Zhu 2002: [36] 1585). Although Chen asserted that even dynastic usurpers did some positive things that suggested that they were in touch with some principles of the Dao, he was critical of past governments, as well as policies of his own dynasty, and championed norms that he regarded as inherent in the proper functioning of evolving institutions. Ignoring such nuances, Zhu portrayed Chen as unwilling to acknowledge the obvious flaws of historical heroes and reprimanded him for endorsing any temporary power, regardless of its ethics. Zhu’s caricature of Chen’s position still dominates most perceptions of Chen’s “utilitarian ethic of end results” (Tillman 1982, 1992b; Tian 2009b). Experiences as the official in charge of dealing with drought and famine situations in Zhedong, as well as exchanges with Chen Liang, alarmed Zhu Xi about the extreme views and behavior he encountered there. In Chen’s assertions about history and expediency, etc., Zhu saw what he perceived to be the dangers of Lü Zuqian’s intellectual legacy. In addition to sharply reprimanding Chen, Zhu even became increasingly critical of their deceased friend, Lü. For example, in a letter to another friend, Zhu grumbled: “When Lü Zuqian had free time, he loved to talk about historical studies—talk that, after his death, became the muddled clamor of the younger generation of students. This gang of scoundrels with scurrilous tongues advocate despising the king and honoring the hegemon, contemplating advantage and calculating results—which grates on the ears even more!” (Zhu 2002: [35] 1549) Zhu further complained about the spread of Chen’s ideas not only in Zhejiang, but also into Jiangxi. However, he also described Zhejiang Confucians as going

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either to Chen’s extreme or to its opposite, that is, Yang Jian 楊簡 (1142–1226), whose mentor was Lu Jiuyuan, the major philosopher in Jiangxi (Tillman 1982: 181–83).

5 Lu Jiuyuan Lu Jiuyuan, often called Lu Xiangshan 陸象山 as a courtesy name referring to his academy on Elephant Mountain, was born into a family that fled North China during political and military chaos during the early tenth century and migrated to a relatively remote mountainous area in Jiangxi. In addition to a leading role in  local militia, family solidarity provided security, and the emperor praised this model lineage for not dividing its property for six generations. Gradually, the family amassed resources for advanced education, and Lu Jiuyuan and one of his five brothers became the first to earn the presented scholar degree and enter central government service; moreover, the last three brothers became noteworthy philosophers. Although Lu Jiuyuan served successfully in government and lectured to unusually large crowds, almost all of his students hailed either from his prefecture of Fuzhou or from the Ningbo area in Zhejiang (Xu J. 1990). Notably, his geographical base was less advantageous for intellectual communications than were those of Zhang Shi, Lü Zuqian, Chen Liang, or Zhu Xi. Moreover, given the social standing of his family in the local area, Lu gave more priority to the interests of his family and local area—and less to literati organizations between the realms of family and state— than Zhu did. Given Lu’s personality development within a supportive extended family, he was not prone to compete for Daoxue leadership, to establish his authority over a school of thought, or to write commentaries on the classics the way that Zhu did (Tillman 1992b: 187–92; Tian 2009b). Nevertheless, among all the twelfth-­ century Chinese philosophers, attention to his thought remains second only to Zhu. Scholars continue to pay special attention to Lu primarily because they regard him as the major contemporary rival to Zhu Xi’s development of the philosophy of the Cheng brothers. Recognizing Zhu’s legacy from Cheng Yi, Lu remarked that Zhu was rigid and profound like Cheng Yi, and Zhang Shi was conciliatory and penetrating like Cheng Hao. Even as a child, Lu had reportedly asked, “Why is it that Cheng Yi’s words categorically differ from those of Confucius and Mencius?” (Lu 1980: [36] 481–82) Nurtured as the youngest of six sons in an extensive and secure family, Lu apparently had a natural affinity for Mencius’ assertion that everyone innately possesses the beginnings or sprouts of the principal virtues that the individual could nourish: “If this mind exists, these principles automatically become clear. When one ought to be compassionate, one will be compassionate; when one ought to be ashamed of wickedness, one will be ashamed; when one ought to yield according to propriety, one will yield; and when confronted with right and wrong, one will be able to distinguish between them” (Lu 1980: [34] 396). However, he did not have a simplistic or idealized view of people, for he explained that people

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g­ enerally lost their consciousness of what Mencius had called their “original heart/ mind” (ben xin 本心), and so their minds became clouded by improper desires and other impediments. When Lu exclaimed, “Raising my head to reach the southern stars, turning myself over to lean on the Big Dipper, lifting my head to gaze beyond the heavens, there is no one like me,” his confidence in his own innate moral power or agency even exceeded that of Mencius (Lu 1980: [35] 459). More philosophically, Lu declared, “The universe is my heart/mind, and my heart/mind is the universe,” and “Heart/mind is principle” (Lu 1980: [22] 273, [11] 149). Lu’s view of the heart/mind as principle resonated with the views of Zhang Jiucheng and Zhang Shi; moreover, Lu is widely regarded as the culmination of the philosophical “School of the Heart/mind” (Xinxue 心學) during the Song era, and so the precursor of Wang Yangming. Furthermore, Lu’s equating of the heart/mind with principle directly countered Zhu Xi’s central dogma that the inner nature (but not the heart/ mind) was principle within humankind. Indeed, Zhu condemned Lu’s view of the mind as essentially the same as Chan (Zen) Buddhism (Tillman 1992b:190–201; Tian 2009a, b: 202–15). Surprisingly, however, in opportunities to challenge one another’s views directly in person or in letters, the philosophical issue of the heart/ mind and principle did not come to the forefront. When Lü Zuqian arranged a meeting at Goose Lake Temple in 1175 to introduce Zhu Xi and two of the Lu brothers, Zhu’s chief concern was Lu Jiuyuan’s apparent disregard for the classics in favor of a leap to grasp the original heart/mind of the ancient sages directly. Consequently, the discussions revolved around pedagogy, the classics, and self-cultivation. At the meeting, the Lu brothers sharply criticized Zhu’s over-emphasis on texts as fragmented and as neglecting the nurture of the heart/mind. In retrospect, scholars have usually regarded 1175 as the historic fault line between the followers of Zhu and Lu; however, for several years after that meeting, the Lu brothers actually moved toward Lü and Zhu’s emphasis on the importance of reading the classics. Responding to such efforts at reconciliation, Zhu in 1183 characterized differences as polarities within Confucianism between his emphasis on “inquiry and study” (dao wen xue 道問學) and Lu’s concentration on “honoring the moral nature” (zun de xing 尊德性). Nevertheless, especially after 1187 when Zhu became exasperated that Lu did not acknowledge and correct his students’ wild (Buddhist) ideas about enlightenment, Zhu attacked Lu more aggressively for inadequately studying the classics and for infusing Buddhist ideas into Confucian terms. Yet, during their exchange of letters in the late 1180s, Zhu would complain that Lu quoted the classics too much and read them too literally. Much of the gap pedagogically reflected that Zhu focused primarily on training literati as Daoxue elite, whereas Lu’s more casual and less structured approach to reading sought to engage general audiences in self-cultivation. By 1191, Zhu was declaring himself to be the Mean between Lu Jiuyuan’s concentration on the essentials of moral practice and Lü Zuqian’s pursuit of erudition; moreover, Zhu even complained that the later extreme was worse than the former (Tillman 1992b: 202–16; Tian 2009b: 216–33; Ching 2000). This is an example of how Zhu himself during the 1180s shifted away from his best friend’s emphasis on broad learning.

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Nevertheless, in the late 1180s, Zhu’s dissatisfaction with Lu Jiuyuan also increased. Besides Lu’s reluctance to admit his alleged Buddhist proclivity, he also wrote a commemorative essay in 1188 for the restoration of a local memorial hall to Wang Anshi, the archrival of the early Daoxue fellowship; therein, Lu blamed Daoxue leaders for the failure of Wang’s governmental reforms. During the 1180s, Zhu became increasingly alarmed that Daoxue was not only assaulted from outside, but also corrupted “from within by our faction’s members”—referring specifically to Lu Jiuyuan and to Lü Zuqian’s younger brother. Moreover, although his concern for weakness within “our faction” had restrained his criticisms, he declared in another letter that he would henceforth call out their errors straightforwardly (Zhu 2002: [35] 1546 and [54]1573; Tillman 1992b: 207–8). Zhu’s debate in exchanges of letters with Chen Liang and the Lu brothers manifested Zhu’s enhanced hostility to what he regarded as erroneous ideas promoted by his contemporary Confucians. In letters to Zhu, the Lu brothers pointed to the Daoist (Taoist) roots of Zhou Dunyi’s use of the term “Ultimate of Non-being” (wuji 無極) for an abstract level beyond the origins of all things from the “Supreme Ultimate” or “Supreme Polarity” (taiji 太極). Zhu Zhen 朱震 (1072–1138) had argued that ideas of the Daoist master, Chen Tuan 陳摶 (906–989), had influenced Zhou. The Lu brothers contrasted Laozi’s 老子 focus on “Non-being” (wu 無) and Confucius’ term taiji in the “Appended Remarks” (xici 繫辭) to the Changes (Yi 易); significantly then, they argued that Confucians had no need to add an abstracted Non-being above the Supreme Ultimate. Furthermore, even if Zhou had used the Daoist term in his early essay, he did not utilize it in his later work, so he probably realized his mistake. Moreover, the Cheng brothers never adopted the usage of this Daoist term. Manifestly, the Lu brothers were undermining Zhu’s claim to represent the “pure Confucian” tradition, but also countering Zhu’s charge that they had contaminated Confucian terms with Chan Buddhist content. Zhu defended Zhou’s “wuji er 而 (‘and yet’ for Zhu, but ‘then’ for Lu) taiji” as two aspects of one reality; however, Lu regarded Zhou’s phrase as bifurcating reality into Non-being and Being. At the end of his letter, Zhu referred to a draft national history, which he had read, that quoted Zhou as conveying, “From the Ultimate of Non-being comes the Supreme Ultimate.” Zhu conceded that if this version were accurate, Lu would be correct; however, Zhu was skeptical about the two extra words, “zi 自 (from) . . . wei 為 (comes or became)” (Zhu 2002: [36] 1571–77, especially 1577). Consequently, the debate ended inconclusively; moreover, despite his difficulty refuting the Lu brothers, Zhu continued to promote his interpretation of Zhou’s phrase (Tillman 1992b; 216–22; Tian 2009b: 233–40). Scholars today continue to set forth contenting interpretations of Zhou’s phrase and this part of Zhu’s debate with the Lu brothers. Deng Guangming’s 鄧廣銘 (1907–1998) analysis specifically undermined Zhu Zhen’s particular assertion about Chen Tuan, but reinforced the general charge of Daoist influence on Zhou; moreover, Deng set forth evidence that Zhou was a minor figure with scant influence before Zhu elevated Zhou’s role (Deng G. 1989). Joseph Adler implicitly echoes Deng’s findings, but does add that it was Zhou’s usefulness for the spiritual discipline of self-cultivation, rather than for speculative philosophy, that drew Zhu

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so closely to Zhou (Adler 2014; see also Hon 2010; R. Wang 2005). However, others still focus on the issue of speculative philosophy. For instance, the historian Yu Yingshi asserts that instead of abstract philosophical speculation, Zhou’s formulation of the Non-Ultimate and the Supreme Ultimate was part of Song political discourse to restrain claims for the “Imperial Ultimate” (huang ji 皇極), that is, the emperor’s absolute power (Yu 2003). Nonetheless, philosophers such as Deng Xiumei 鄧秀梅 still promote the more speculative and ethical aspects of Zhou’s writings (Deng X. 2009). Despite such polar opposite conclusions, these scholars provide yet another example of efforts in much of current scholarship to read Zhu’s interpretations critically, and to recover what they regard as the original meaning in Song-era sources and thinkers. Before Tillman’s exposition, scholars generally overlooked two aspects of the debate that did not fit well into established views of differences between Zhu and Lu. Whereas others have often characterized Lu as a subjective idealist or as one with scant concern for classical texts, Tillman pointed out that Lu’s letters actually challenged Zhu’s claim to objective truth and respect for the classics (Tillman 1992b; Tian 2009b). [Along roughly parallel lines, P. J. Ivanhoe cautions scholars about diverse usage of “idealist” to categorize Lu (Ivanhoe 2010: 253–54).] First, in contrast to mainstream Confucian scholars who follow Zhu in portraying Lu as making judgments by relying on his own heart/mind, instead of what was found in the Confucian classics (e.g., Cai 2007), Zhu in this context condemned Lu for simply following the words of classical texts to give forth explanations. In other words, he complained that Lu read classical texts too literally, instead of realizing that Zhou had received his insight directly from Heaven, and “had grasped a secret that had not been transmitted to a thousand earlier sages” (Zhu 2002: [36] 1568). Lu was the one who chided Zhu for inadequately respecting the texts of the sages, as when Zhu followed Zhou in inserting the Daoist notion of Non-being (wu 無) to modify what Confucius had set down in the classics. Secondly, Lu characterized Zhu as imposing his own subjective opinions on others; consequently, Lu called for more discussion to reach a consensus, but Zhu expressed skepticism about any consensus arrived at through discussion. Importantly, Lu raised the likelihood that Zhu’s account of principle was nothing more than subjective opinion, but expressed the challenge in an inclusive tone: “Even though we might consider that our own perception of principle is already clear, how are we to know that it is not merely our own individual opinions or confused theories?” (Lu 1980: [2] 26) Lu also drew a parallel between Zhu and Confucius’ disciple, Zigong 子貢, who became so mired in broad erudition that he failed to focus on essential virtues, and so did not continue Confucius’ legacy. Lu charged that Zhu had gone even further astray by building a philosophical synthesis grounded both on overly extensive erudition in texts and mysterious secrets about the “Ultimate of Non-­ being” that Zhou Dunyi had allegedly been the first sage ever to discover (Tillman 1992b: 222–30; Tian 2009b: 240–50). It is significant that Lu associated Zhu’s pursuit of textual erudition with both abstracted theorizing and mysterious secrets. In short, he mounted a significant challenge to Zhu’s assumed authority to define a “pure Confucian” tradition.

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Most scholarship has continued along the lines of the themes and views discussed above. However, in recent years Nakajima Ryo 中島諒 has striven to set forth what he regards as significant correctives. In one article, he draws parallels between Lu Jiuyuan and Chen Liang. Whereas most accounts make sharp contrast between Lu’s inner focus on the heart/mind and Chen’s obsession with external affairs, Nakajima points to their shared effort to reduce the distance between the ancients and later people, blurring the boundaries between the two eras (Nakajima 2016). Another article is more ambitious in challenging the popular generalization of a “school” of the heart/mind that was brought to a high point in the twelfth century by Lu Jiuyuan and ultimately made more complete by Wang Yangming and his students in the sixteenth century. Nakajima implicitly builds upon Tillman’s attention to Lu’s awareness of imperfections in everyone’s mind and the need for open discussions to arrive at a consensus—instead of just being conscious of the mind being one with principle; after all, Lu shared more common ground with Zhu than conventionally recognized (Nakajima 2015; Tillman 1992b; Tian 2009b). Nakajima’s observation about the underdevelopment of any “school of the heart/ mind” before Wang Yangming implicitly agrees with Wm. Theodore de Bary’s assertions that heart/mind learning (Xinxue 心學) in the Song was Zhu Xi’s (e.g., de Bary 1989: xii). Nevertheless, we could counter that a general notion of a legacy focused on the “learning of the heart/mind” is still quite useful in highlighting similarities and nuanced differences, especially from Zhang Jiucheng to Hu Hong and Zhang Shi, and on to Lü Zuqian, and then to Lu Jiuyuan and his student Yang Jian. It is perhaps best to regard Yang as the culmination of the Song thread of this tradition; moreover, his version in Zhejiang was not the same as it had been to Zhang Jiucheng. Nonetheless, their shared penchant for equating the heart/mind with principle remained a major distinguishing characteristic—one that Zhu Xi regarded as erroneous and inspired by Chan Buddhism (Liu Y. 2013; Zhang R. 1992).

6 Conclusion Traditional and twentieth-century scholarship about Zhu Xi’s contemporaries generally followed Zhu’s perspectives of these philosophers with whom Zhu disagreed to varying degrees; moreover, such scholarship tended to portray Zhu as the unique systematic philosopher of the Song era and to pay tribute to his singular genius. Even scholarship critical of aspects of Zhu’s philosophical system tended to reflect Zhu’s perceptions of his contemporaries. A notable shift occurred by the early 1990s as some scholars in China and the West explored the thinking of these contemporaries far more in their own terms and in the context of their own times. Increasingly since the last decade of the last century, scholars have not only gained enhanced appreciation for Zhu’s contemporaries, but also acknowledged the greater influences these contemporaries had upon Zhu and his ideas. A considerable factor in this greater appreciation for the ideas and contributions of these contemporaries has

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been the local or regional identities shared by recent scholars and twelfth-century philosophers; however, it would be a mistake to reduce or credit this change to regional identifications alone. Although Chinese scholars rarely mention specific foreign scholars unless explicitly refuting them, this turn in Chinese scholarship overall implicitly shares Tillman’s points. Notably then, there is a transnational intellectual basis for the enhanced appreciation for the contributions made by Zhu’s contemporaries. Another notable change in scholarship has been a marked tendency to turn away from the traditional and twentieth-century penchant for setting Zhu Xi and his contemporaries in nearly polar opposition on many issues. The height of this polarization was the Cultural Revolution’s Anti-Confucius and Anti-Lin Biao campaign of the early 1970s, one that championed Chen Liang as the great “Legalist” critic and alternative to Zhu Xi as the orthodox Confucian architect of late imperial ideology. Especially in the twenty-first century, many scholars in China and some in the West have increasingly emphasized common ground or shared goals between Zhu Xi and these contemporaries. This tendency is probably influenced, in part, by a renewed Chinese sense of nationalistic identity and the need for cultural unity and a cultural bulwark vis-à-vis the West and Western values. Nevertheless, this penchant should also not be reduced to this one consideration. After all, there are significant scholarly and textual reasons for this trend, too. Acknowledgements  While writing this chapter, I benefited from discussions with Margaret Mih Tillman and two 2017 visiting scholars about recent scholarship in the PRC: Liu Yumin of Zhejiang Normal University, and Ren Renren of East China Normal University.

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Anhui jiaoyu chubanshe. (Volume of significant essays by leading philosopher and some of his circle of younger scholars.) Chen, Liang 陳亮. 1987. Chen Liang ji 陳亮集. Beijing 北京: Zhonghua shuju 中華書局. (The new standard edition corrected and supplemented by Deng Guangming who incorporated the thirteenth-century rare book materials, first utilized by Tillman 1982, which were not in any extant editions before this one.) Cheng, Xiaoqing 程小青, and Guo Dan 郭丹. 2014. “Lü Zuqian and Zhu Xi’s New Confucianism 呂祖謙與朱熹新理學.” Journal of Fuzhou Normal University 福州師範大學學報 6: 110–15. Ching, Julia. 2000. The Religious Thought of Chu Hsi. New York: Oxford University Press. de Bary, Wm. Theodore. 1989. The Message of the Mind in Neo-Confucianism. New  York: Columbia University Press. ———. 1993. “The Uses of Neo-Confucianism: A Response to Professor Tillman.” Philosophy East and West 43.3: 541–55. De Weerdt, Hilde. 2007. Competition over Content: Negotiating Standards for the Civil Service Examinations in Imperial China (1127–1279). Cambridge: Harvard University Asia Center. ———. 2012. “Review of Die Aufhebung des Politischen: Lü Zuqian (1137–1181) und der Aufstieg des Neukonfuzianismus by Kai Marchal.” China Review International 19.3: 468–473. Deng, Guangming 鄧廣銘. 1989. “Regarding Zhou Dunyi’s Mentors and Received Transmission 關於周敦頤的師承和傳授.” In Ji Xianlin 季羨林 et al., eds., Collected Essays Commemorating the One-hundred Anniversary of Chen Yinke’s Birth 紀年陳寅恪先生誕辰百年學術論文集. Beijing 北京: Beijing daxue chubanshe 北京大學出版社. (Significant argument about Zhu Xi’s role in making Zhou Dunyi a significant influence in Song Confucianism.) ———. 2007. Biography of Chen Longchuan 陳龍川傳. Beijing 北京: Sanlian shuju 三聯書局. (An authoritative biography of Chen Liang by outstanding historian). Deng, Xiumei 鄧秀梅. 2009. “An Inquiry into the Significance of Zhou Dunyi’s ‘Supreme Ultimate’ 周濂溪「太極」義之考辨.” Contemporary Confucian Research 當代儒學研究 6.7: 1–34. Ding, Weixiang 丁為祥. 2013. “Between Morals and the Natural: Again Pondering Zhu Xi and Chen Liang’s debate and their Divergence 道德與自然之間:朱子與陳亮的爭論及其分歧的 再反思.” Philosophical Analysis 哲學分析 4.3: 85–101. Dong, Ping 董平. 1996. A Critical Biography of Chen Liang 陳亮評傳. Nanjing 南京: Nanjing daxue chubanshe 南京大學出版社. (Significant study by a major specialist on Zhedong Confucians.) ———. 2005. “Discussing Lü Zuqian’s Philosophy of History 論呂祖謙的歷史哲學.” History of Chinese Philosophy中國哲學史 2: 99–104. Du, Haijun 杜海軍. 2007. Chronical Life of Lü Zuqian 呂祖謙年譜. Beijing 北京: Zhonghua shuju 中華書局. (Traditionally organized biography, especially useful for relating dates of his writings to events in his life.) ———. 2012. “On Lü Zuqian’s Status as Leader of Zhejiang Scholarship 談呂祖謙浙東學術的 領袖地位.” History of Chinese Philosophy 中國哲學史 2: 70–76. ———. 2014. “Lü Zuqian’s Students and the Developing Ties between Lü Learning and Zhejiang Scholarship 呂祖謙門人及呂學與浙東學術的發展關係.” Zhejiang Normal University Journal 浙江師範大學學報 2: 21–28. Hon, Tze-ki. 2010. “Zhou Dunyi’s Philosophy of the Supreme Polarity.” In John Makeham, ed., Dao Companion to Neo-Confucian Philosophy. Dordrecht: Springer. Hou, Wailu 侯外廬 et al., eds. 1960. Comprehensive History of Chinese Thought 中國思想通史. Beijing 北京: Renmin chubanshe 人民出版社. (Standard work reflecting the scholarship of the PRC in the 1950s.) Hu, Hong 胡宏. 1987. Collected Works of Hu Hong 胡宏集. Beijing 北京: Zhonghua shuju中華 書局. (Modern punctuated edition.) Huang, Zongxi 黃宗羲, and Quan Zuwang 全祖望, eds. 1986. Song–Yuan Case Studies 宋元學 案. Beijing 北京: Zhonghua shuju 中華書局. (Influential premier Chinese intellectual history of Song and Yuan Confucians.)

9 Zhu Xi and his Contemporaries: Zhang Shi, Lü Zuqian, Chen Liang, and Lu Jiuyuan 191 Ivanhoe, Philip J.  2010. “Lu Xiangshan’s Ethical Philosophy.” In John Makeham, ed., Dao Companion to Neo-Confucian Philosophy. Dordrecht: Springer. Jiang, Weisheng 蔣偉勝. 2012. Merging the Inner and Outer Dao: Research on Lü Zuqian’s Philosophy 合內外之道:呂祖謙哲學研究. Hangzhou 杭州: Zhejiang Gongshang daxue chubanshe 浙江工商大學出版社. (Major work on this inadequately studied Song thinker.) ———. 2016. “An Examination of Lü Zuqian ‘Obtained the Central Plains Literary Collection’ 呂祖謙‘得中原文獻之傳’考辨.” Journal of Zhejiang Industrial and Commercial University 浙江工商大學學報 4: 34–39. Li, Kexin 李可心. 2016. “From the Perspective of Discrepancies Regarding the Heart/Mind—a Reassessment of the Decline of Zhang Shi’s Learning 由心的出入問題—反思張栻之學的 式微.” History of Chinese Philosophy 中國哲學史 3: 86–96. Li, Tongle 李同樂. 2012. “Examining Differences and Similarities between Zhu Xi’s and Lü Zuqian’s Historical Perspectives 試論朱熹與呂祖謙歷史觀之異同.” Social Sciences Comprehensively 社科縱橫 9: 105–7, 109. Liu, Shu-hsien (Liu, Shuxian) 劉述先. 1983. “Further Examination of Zhu Xi’s ‘Treatise on Ren’; The Concept of the Supreme Ultimate, and Orthodox Tradition of the Way: Reflections on Participating at the International Conference on Zhu Xi 朱子的「仁說」, 太極觀點與道統 問題的再審察.” Critical Discussions of Historical Studies 史學評論 5: 173–88. (Major and insightful reflections on the first international Zhu Xi conference with participants coming from the PRC to the USA.) Liu, Shuxian (Liu, Shu-hsien) 劉述先. 1989. “On Chu Hsi’s Search for Equilibrium and Harmony.” In Liu Shu-hsien et al., eds., Harmony and Strife: Contemporary Perspectives, East and West. Hong Kong: Chinese University Press. Liu, Yumin 劉玉敏. 2007. “Brief Study of the Origins of Lü Zuqian’s Scholarship 呂祖謙學術淵 源略考.” History of Chinese Philosophy 中國哲學史 3: 127–28. ———. 2013. The Source and Course of the Learning of the Heart/Mind: Zhang Jiucheng’s Heart/Mind Learning and the Zhejiang School of Thought 心學源流:張九成心學與浙東學 派. Beijing 北京: Renmin chubanshe人民出版社. (Major study of an important, but neglected, thinker who by the end of twelfth century was excised from Daoxue.) ———. 2016. “Research on Southern Song Regional Scholarly Interactions: Observations Centered around Lü Zuqian 南宋區域學術互動研究:以呂祖謙為中心的考察.” Guizhou Social Sciences 貴州社會科學 7: 41–46. Liu, Zhaoren 劉昭仁. 2004. “Friendship between Zhu Xi and Lü Zuqian 朱熹與呂祖謙的交誼.” Journal of Huangshan College 黃山學院學報 4: 48–57. Lü, Zuqian 呂祖謙. 2008. Lü Zuqian’s Complete Works呂祖謙全集. Hangzhou 杭州: Zhejiang guji chubanshe 浙江古籍出版社. WJ = Collected Short Writings文集. (New standard and punctuated edition that greatly facilitates access to the crucial twelfth-century intellectual leader.) Lu, Jiuyuan 陸九淵. 1980. Lu Jiuyuan’s Writings 陸九淵集. Beijing 北京: Zhonghua shuju 中華 書局. (Standard modern punctuated edition.) Marchal, Kai. 2010. “Lü Zuqian’s Political Philosophy.” In John Makeham, ed., Dao Companion to Neo-Confucian Philosophy. Dordrecht: Springer. (Particularly significant essay on Lü.) ———. 2011. Die Aufhebung des Politischen: Lü Zuqian (1137–1181) und der Aufstieg des Neukonfuzianismus [The Suspension of the Political: Lü Zuqian (1137–1181) and the Rise of Neo-Confucianism]. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz Verlag. (Insightful study of twelfth-century Chinese political thought and only book on Lü in a Western language.) Mou, Zongsan 牟宗三. 1968–1969. The Heart/Mind and Human Nature 心體與性體. Taipei 臺 北: Zhengzhong shuju 正中書局. (Landmark interpretation of Chinese thought, including crucial turns during the Song era.) Nakajima, Ryo 中島諒. 2015. “New Research on Lu Jiuyuan’s Philosophy: Was Lu Jiuyuan a Scholar of ‘School of Heart/mind Learning’? 陸九淵哲學新考:陸九淵是否為‘心學’思想 家?” Journal of Jiangnan University 江南大學學報 14.3: 23–29.

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———. 2016. “Affinity between Lu Jiuyuan and Zhu Xi’s Debating Opponent Chen Liang 朱熹 的另一個論敵:陳亮哲學與陸九淵的親和性.” Guiyang College Journal 貴陽學院學報 11.4: 14–19. Pan, Fuen 潘富恩. 2009. Lü Zuqian’s Biography 呂祖謙. Kunming 昆明: Yunan jiaoyu chubanshe 雲南教育出版社. (Standard biography by a major scholar.) Pan, Fuen 潘富恩, and Xu Yuqing 徐余慶. 1992a. “A Review of Lü Zuqian’s Thinking about Real Learning 呂祖謙的實學思想述評.” Journal of Fudan University 復旦學報 6: 41–46. Pan, Fuen 潘富恩, and Xu Yuqing 徐余慶. 1992b. Critical Biography of Lü Zuqian 呂祖謙評傳. Nanjing 南京: Nanjing daxue chubanshe 南京大學出版社. (Particularly noteworthy biography of this often-neglected leader of Song Confucians.) Ren, Renren 任仁仁, and Gu Gongyi, comps., and eds. 2017. Compiled Edition of the Correspondence between Zhang Shi and his Teachers, Friends and Students 張栻師友門人 往還書劄彙編. Beijing 北京: Zhonghua shuju 中華書局. (Significant research on Zhang’s letters.) Soffel, Christian, and Hoyt C. Tillman. 2012. Cultural Authority and Political Culture in China: Exploring Issues with the Zhongyong and the Daotong during the Song, Jin and Yuan Dynasties. Stuttgart: Franz Steiner Verlag. (Significant study of major topic and important, but largely overlooked Confucian thinkers.) Su, Xuansheng 蘇鉉盛. 2007. “Zhang Shi’s Views of Equilibrium and Harmony 張栻的中和說.” In Chen Lai 陳來, ed., The Formation and Evolution of the Early Period of Daoxue Discourse 早期道學話語的形成與演變. Hefei 合肥: Anhui jiaoyu chubanshe 安徽教育出版社. Tian, Hao 田浩 (Tillman, Hoyt C.). 2009a. “Zhu Xi and the Transformation of Learning of the Dao Confucianism 朱熹與道學的發展轉化.” In Wu Zhen 吳震, ed., The Intellectual World of Neo-Confucianism in the Song Dynasty: Taking the Study of Zhu Xi as the Center of Discussion 宋代新儒學的精神世界:以朱子學為中心. Shanghai 上海: Huadong shifan daxue chubanshe 華東師範大學出版社. ———. 2009b. Zhu Xi’s World of Thought 朱熹的思維世界. Nanjing 南京: Jiangsu renmin chubanshe 江蘇人民出版社. (Revised and expanded (by one-third) version of Tillman 1992b with expanded coverage especially on Chen Liang, Lu Jiuyuan and Zhu Xi.) Tillman, Hoyt C. 1982. Utilitarian Confucianism: Ch’en Liang’s Challenge to Chu Hsi. Cambridge: Council on East Asian Studies, Harvard University Press. (First publication to use the National Central Library’s rare book from the thirteenth century containing Chen’s lost writings; also set forth new perspectives on Chen and his debate with Zhu. Available in Chinese version from Nanjing 南京: Jiangsu renmin chubanshe 江蘇人民出版社, 1997.) ———. 1992a. “A New Direction in Confucian Scholarship: Approaches to Examining Differences between Neo-Confucianism and Tao-hsueh (Daoxue).” Philosophy East and West 42.3: 455– 474. (Set forth Daoxue as historical and methodological alternative to the conventional “Neo-­ Confucian” approach to Song, Yuan and Ming Confucianism.) ———. 1992b. Confucian Discourse and Chu Hsi’s Ascendancy. Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press. (Placed Zhu Xi’s thought in the context of his interactions with his contemporaries and of his impact on the evolution of Daoxue Confucianism.) ———. 1994. “The Uses of Neo-Confucianism, Revisited: A Reply to Professor de Bary.” Philosophy East and West 44.1: 135–142. ———. 2003. “Zhu Xi (Chu Hsi): Rivals and Followers.” In Antonio S. Cua, ed., Encyclopedia of Chinese Philosophy. New York: Routledge. (An earlier essay similar to the present chapter; see this earlier essay for supplemental references and information.) ———. 2004. “Zhu Xi’s Prayers to the Spirit of Confucius and Claim to the Transmission of the Way.” Philosophy East and West 54.4: 489–513. (Crucial article to complement the thesis of Confucian Discourse by demonstrating how singular Zhu’s assertion of cultural and religious authority was.) Tillman, Hoyt C., and Christian Soffel. 2010. “Zhang Shi’s Philosophical Perspectives on Human Nature, Heart/Mind, Humaneness and the Supreme Ultimate.” In John Makeham, ed., Neo-­ Confucian Philosophy. Dordrecht: Springer.

9 Zhu Xi and his Contemporaries: Zhang Shi, Lü Zuqian, Chen Liang, and Lu Jiuyuan 193 van Ess, Hans. 2003. Von Ch’eng I und Chu Hsi: Die Lehre vom Rechten Wege in der Überlieferung der Familie Hu. Wiesbaden: Verlag Otto Harrassowitz. (Landmark Western-language study of the influential Hu family’s role in the transition between Cheng Yi and Zhu Xi.) ———. 2010. “Hu Hong’s Philosophy.” In John Makeham, ed., Dao Companion to Neo-­ Confucian Philosophy. Dordrecht: Springer. (Very significant essay with valuable additional references and details.) Wang, Robin R. 2005. “Zhou Dunyi’s ‘Diagram of the Supreme Polarity Explained’ (Taiji tu shuo): A Construction of Confucian Metaphysics.” Journal of the History of Ideas 66.3: 309–14. Wang, Xinzhu 王心竹. 2011. “From the Zhu–Chen Debate Looking at Zhu Xi's and Chen Liang’s Thinking about Kingly and Hegemonic Governance 從朱陳之辯看朱熹陳亮的王霸 思想.” Social Science 社會科學 11: 131–35. Xiang, Shiling 向世陵. 2000. Beyond Good and Evil: Hu Hong and his Learning of Nature and Principle 善惡之上:胡宏、性學、理學. Beijing 北京: Zhongguo guangbo dianshi chubanshe 中國廣播影視出版社. (Major study by major philosophy professor at Renmin University of China.) Xiao, Gongquan 蕭公權. 1968. History of Political Thought in China 中國政治思想史. Taipei 臺 北: Zhonghua wenhua 中華文化. (Influential survey is also available in English translation by F.W. Mote from Princeton University Press, 1979.) Xiao, Yongming 蕭永明. 2003. “Lü Zuqian’s Learning on the Moral Nature and his Unification of the Special Characteristics of Zhu and Lu 呂祖謙的道德性命之學及其兼融朱陸的特點.” Journal of Foshan Science and Technical College 佛山科學技術學院學報 2: 12–15. Xu, Bo 徐波. 2017. “The Changing Metaphor of Water and Various Dimensions in Confucian Theory of Original Goodness on Human Nature 以‘水喻’之解讀看儒家性善論的多種面向.” Academic Monthly 學術月刊 49.10: 46–54. Xu, Jifang 徐紀芳. 1990. A Study of Lu Xiangshan’s Disciples 陸象山弟子研究. Taipei 臺北: Wenjin chubanshe 文津出版社. Xu, Ruzong 徐儒宗. 2005. Wuzhou’s Main Lineage: Lü Zuqian’s Biography 婺學之宗:呂祖謙傳. Hangzhou 杭州: Zhejiang renmin chubanshe 淅江人民出版社. (Biography with focus on Lü’s influence in Wu Prefecture of Zhejiang.) Yang, Xinxun 楊新勛. 2013. “Introduction 前言.” In Zhang Jiucheng’s Works 張九成集 (1–46). Hangzhou 杭州: Zhejiang guji chubanshe 浙江古籍出版社. (Major essay accompanying his modern punctuated edition of the writings of this long-neglected philosopher.) Yu, Yingshi 余英時. 2003. Zhu Xi’s Historical World 朱熹的歷史世界. Taipei 臺北: Yunchen wenhua 允晨文化. (Landmark and provocative explication of Zhu’s political thought and action by the first Asian scholar awarded the Kluge Prize for historians.) Zhang, Hui 張卉. 2013. “Zhang Shi’s Influence on Zhu Xi’s Discussion of the Heart/Mind and Human Nature 張栻對朱熹心性論的影響.” Sichuan Normal University Journal 四川師範大 學學報 6: 19–25. Zhang, Liwen 張立文. 1992. Following the Path of the Learning of the Heart/mind: The Footprints of Lu Jiuyuan 走向心學之路:陸象山. Beijing 北京: Zhonghua shuju 中華書局. (Major example, from a senior philosopher at Renmin University of China, of the legacy of focusing on the school of mind within Confucianism.) Zhang, Rulun 張汝倫. 2012. “Further Reflections on the Zhu–Chen Debate 朱陳之辯再思考.” Fudan Journal 復旦學報 3: 58–72. Zhang, Shi 張栻. 2007. Explanation of the Supreme Ultimate’s Meaning 張栻的《太極解》, reconstructed by Su Xuansheng 蘇鉉盛. In Chen Lai 陳來, ed., The Formation and Evolution of the Early Period of Daoxue Discourse 早期道學話語的形成與演變. Hefei 合肥: Anhui jiaoyu chubanshe 安徽教育出版社. (An important writing discovered by Chen Lai and reconstructed by one of his Ph.D. students.) ———. 2015. Zhang Shi’s Works 張栻集. Beijing 北京: Zhonghua shuju 中華書局. (Standard modern punctuated edition of Zhang’s works.)

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Zhou, Jingyao 周景耀, ed. 2016. This Culture of Ours: Zhang Shi, Confucianism and the Construction of the Family and State 斯文:張栻、儒學與家國建構. Beijing 北京: Guangming ribao chubanshe 光明日報出版社. (Impressive range of recent research on Zhang.) Zhu, Hanmin 朱漢民, and Chen Gujia 陳谷嘉. 1992. Development of the Huxiang School 湖湘 學派源流. Changsha 長沙: Hunan jiaoyu chubanshe 湖南教育出版社. (An important study of the Huxiang school of thought.) Zhu, Xi朱熹. 1986. Topically Arranged Conversations of Master Zhu 朱子語類. Beijing 北京: Zhonghua shuju 中華書局. (Most widely cited edition of this important collection of Zhu’s conversations with his students, but this work is also available in Zhu 2002.) ———. 2002. Master Zhu’s Complete Works 朱子全書. Shanghai 上海: Shanghai guji chubanshe 上海古籍出版社, and Hefei 合肥: Anhui jiaoyu chubanshe 安徽教育出版社. (New complete collection of Zhu’s works; the slightly corrected 2010 edition, unavailable to me, will surely be the standard edition for accessing the work of this crucial philosopher.) Zou, Jinliang 鄒錦良. 2015. “Forty Years of Zhang Shi Research: Accomplishments and Inadequacies 張栻研究四十年:成就與不足.” Journal of Northwestern University 西華大學 學報 1: 30–35. (Very useful overview and analysis.) Hoyt Cleveland Tillman is special appointed professor at Hunan University’s Yuelu Academy but is also an affiliated researcher at Peking University’s Center for Studies of Ancient Chinese History and professor emeritus at Arizona State University. His publications on Zhu Xi include Confucian Discourse (Hawaii, 1992) and its greatly expanded Chinese version Zhu Xi de siwei shijie (Zhu Xi’s World of Thought) (Taipei, 2008, and Nanjing, 2009).  

Chapter 10

Zhu Xi and Later Neo-Confucians Zemian Zheng

1 Introduction As Qian Mu 錢穆 observes, Zhu Xi’s influence in later Chinese thought is comparable to Confucius’ influence in early Chinese thought. Each of them synthesizes traditional culture and philosophical ideas existing before him and forms a new tradition to which later thinkers all refer (Qian 1994, vol. 1: 1). Zhu Xi stood at the center of the philosophical world of later Confucianism, as most later thinkers read his commentaries on the Confucian classics, and began their inquiry of the Way under his guidance for self-cultivation, finding a starting point of philosophical breakthrough through their critiques, if not appropriations, of Zhu Xi. This chapter is devoted partly to provide a brief account of Zhu Xi’s influence in the Chinese intellectual histories of the Song, Ming and Qing dynasties, and partly to offer an introduction to the major criticisms of Zhu Xi provided by the most representative later Confucians. Here the term “Neo-Confucian” is used in a broad sense to cover all those Confucian thinkers from the Song to the Qing dynasties who shared (though not without distortion) the same terminology with Zhu Xi and his masters, and so participated in the same discourse initiated by them, no matter how their views might differ from each other. It includes such Qing Confucian philosophers as Dai Zhen 戴震 (1724–1777), who criticized almost the entire group of Song–Ming Neo-Confucianism, because from Song–Ming Neo-Confucianism to Dai Zhen there was a continuity in philosophical vocabulary and a clear line of development in their conceptual frameworks.

Z. Zheng (*) Department of Philosophy, The Chinese University of Hong Kong, Hong Kong, People’s Republic of China e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2020 K.-c. Ng, Y. Huang (eds.), Dao Companion to ZHU Xi’s Philosophy, Dao Companions to Chinese Philosophy 13, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-29175-4_10

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2 Followers of Zhu Xi and His Ascendancy to Orthodoxy in the Late Song and Yuan Periods Although at the end of his life Zhu Xi was politically persecuted and his scholarship was condemned as “false teachings,” only a few decades after his death, his doctrines had become the standard for orthodoxy in Confucianism, because his commentaries on the Confucian “Four Books” was officially designated as the standard edition for those who wished to excel in the imperial civil service examination in order to take up a post in government.1 Thereafter the Neo-Confucianism represented by Zhu Xi became the orthodoxy for the later Song, Yuan, Ming, and Qing dynasties, till the imperial civil service examination ended in 1905. It surpassed other Confucian schools, as well as Buddhism and Daoism, in its influence on the community of scholar-officials. In fact, Zhu Xi’s thought was originally a product of the way of life and the scholarly activities in the academies (shuyuan 書院), a form of private educational institution in pre-modern China.2 Its creativity was established partly in theoretical philosophical criticism and partly in the practice of the Confucian Way of self-cultivation. When it became the standard for answers in the civil service examination, it was treated by some scholars only as a tool for achieving a political career. This attitude bred hypocrisy and insincerity. Some Confucian scholars indulged in memorization and recitation or textual criticism of the ancient sages and worthies’ ethical teachings without being motivated to lead a moral life accordingly. All of these were condemned by Wang Shouren 王守仁 (1472–1529, commonly known as Wang Yangming 王陽明) and Li Zhi 李贄 (1527–1602).3 The ascendancy of Zhu Xi’s doctrine was partly due to his great contribution to Confucianism, and partly owing to the effort of a great number of Zhu Xi’s students to preserve his writings, disseminate his doctrines, and extend his influence in the community of scholar-officials and in the imperial court. Huang Gan 黃榦 (1152– 1221) was the literary executor of Zhu Xi and widely considered as the successor of Zhu Xi. He wrote one of the first biographies of Zhu Xi.4 He Ji 何基 (1188– 1269), Huang Gan’s disciple, disseminated Zhu Xi’s thought in the Eastern Zhejiang area, where the School of Zhu Xi, represented by Jin Lüxiang 金履祥  For a summary of historic events concerning how Zhu Xi has been iconized by the following dynasties after the Southern Song Cf. Shu (2003:1113–14). For a very brief description of the rise and decline of Zhu Xi’s influence in later Chinese Confucians, cf. Chan (1963: 591–92). Although Zhu Xi’s doctrine was designated as orthodoxy, as Tillman observes, “Having an official orthodoxy did not prevent the government either from employing officials associated with other Confucian schools or from drawing upon other religious traditions and folk beliefs to sustain public order” (Tillman 1992: 8). 2  Zhu Xi himself was a keen reformer of education and had established or revived a great number of private academies. During the hard time of political persecution, Zhu’s teachings were preserved and spread among the private academies. Cf. de Bary et al. (1999: 737, 755–57). 3  Cf. Wang Y (1963: 122–23), Li (2000: [1] 28). 4  This biography could be found in Zhu (2002, vol. 27: 534–67). 1

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(1232–1303), Huang Zhen 黃震 (1213–1281) and Wang Yingling 王應麟 (1223– 1296), continued to make contribution in studies of history, though made few progress in philosophy (Qian 1998: 219). Another important disciple of Zhu Xi is Chen Chun 陳淳 (1159–1223), nowadays famous for his Northern Creek Neo-Confucian Terms Explained (Beixi Ziyi 北溪字義) (Chen C. 1986), an exposition of the key concepts of Zhu Xi’s philosophy. Zhen Dexiu 真德秀 (1178–1235) and Wei Liaoweng 魏了翁 (1178–1237), who studied under the direct disciples of Zhu Xi, were two renowned scholar-officials whose political status enabled them to make pleas to the emperor for the official reception of Zhu Xi’s thought. Zhen studied under Zhan Tiren 詹體仁 (1143–1206), one of Zhu Xi’s disciples. His Extended Meaning of the Great Learning (Daxue Yanyi 大學衍義) is based on Zhu Xi’s commentaries and became popular during the Song and Yuan dynasties. He presented this work to Emperor Li Zong 理宗. And this act must have contributed greatly to the ascendancy of Zhu Xi’s doctrine to the status of orthodoxy.5 Although the early generations of the followers of Zhu Xi were successful in promoting his doctrine, they remained so faithful to Zhu Xi’s doctrine that they were not innovative in philosophy, neither was the Yuan dynasty a period of philosophical creativity. It witnessed the spread of the school of the Cheng brothers and Zhu Xi (commonly known as the Cheng–Zhu School of the learning of principle [Cheng-Zhu Lixue 程朱理學]) from Southern China to the North. Zhao Fu 趙復 (c. 1206–1299) was captured by the Yuan army and sent to Northern China, bringing with him the books of the Cheng–Zhu school. He taught the Cheng–Zhu doctrines to Yao Shu 姚樞 (1201–1278), who then built an academy Taiji Shuyuan 太極書院 for him to spread these doctrines throughout Northern China. Thanks to Zhao Fu’s introduction, Xu Heng 許衡 (1209–1281), Hao Jing 郝經 (1223–1275), and Liu Yin 劉因 (1249–1293), and many other Northern scholars read the works of the Cheng–Zhu School and became influential scholars (Huang Z. 1992: [90] 524–25). Xu Heng’s status in the early Yuan is especially important. Wu Cheng 吳澄 (1249–1333) belonged to the fourth generation of Zhu Xi’s followers, and was perhaps the most outstanding philosopher in the Yuan dynasty. He departed clearly from Zhu Xi in metaphysics. Generally speaking, Zhu Xi’s view is that li 理 (pattern/principle) is only logically (rather than temporally) prior to qi (material force/vital energies), and li and qi are in fact not separable. But he sometimes spoke of li as if it were so distinct from and irreducible to qi that it is regarded as a substance that exists beyond the realm of qi.6 This became, for some later Confucians, the Achilles’ heel of Zhu Xi’s metaphysics. Wu Cheng states that  For a brief account of how Zhen and Wei promulgated Zhu Xi’s thought, see Hou et al. (1984: [1] 608–9, 615–18). 6  The majority of Zhu Xi’s statements stress the inseparability of li and qi in the real world. For instance, he states, “In the world there is no qi without li, nor any li without qi” (Zhu 1986: 2). However, a few statements, in conveying the view that li and qi are conceptually separable, seem to suggest that they are actually separable. For instance, he says, “before there were Heaven and Earth, there had been such a li” (Zhu 1986: 1). Chen’s chronological study of Zhu Xi’s texts shows that Zhu Xi’s final conclusion was not the view “li is prior to qi,” but the view that they are inseparable but li is “logically prior to” qi. Cf. Chen L. (2000: 75–99). 5

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the reason why qi can have a certain property is that the li serves as the “sovereign” of the qi (Huang Z. 1992: [92] 574). Taiji 太極 (the Great Ultimate) as the totality of li, is not a distinct substance that resides in qi but serves as a sovereign to qi (Huang Z. 1992: [92] 577). This position became dominant among Ming Confucians. Wu Cheng held an eclectic attitude towards the debates of Zhu Xi and Lu Jiuyuan 陸九淵 (1139–1192, also known as Lu Xiangshan 陸象山). Some of his statement misled his contemporaries to think that he sided with Lu Jiuyuan (Huang Z. 1992: [92] 572), but his teaching about the way of self-cultivation was essentially in line with Zhu Xi’s.

3 Wang Yangming and Later Confucians’ Challenges to Zhu Xi’s Moral Psychology and the Way of Self-Cultivation A great historian on the Ming intellectual history, Huang Zongxi 黃宗羲 (1610– 1695) observed that during the early period of the Ming dynasty before Wang Yangming, most scholars merely echoed Zhu Xi’s doctrines without any substantial philosophical development. Huang Zongxi, in his Mingru Xue’an 明儒學案 (Scholarly Records of Ming Confucians), documented some selected notes written by early Ming Confucians such as Wu Yubi 吳與弼 (1391–1469), Hu Juren 胡居仁 (1434–1484), and Xue Xuan 薛瑄 (1389–1464).7 Readers who sought philosophical arguments would be disappointed by their simplicity. Some of these notes are merely records about the authors’ experience of self-cultivation, or notes about their self-reflection and description of the level of spiritual exercises they attained. This is clear evidence of how early Ming Confucians followed Zhu Xi’s teaching and endeavored to internalize the Neo-Confucian Way in their life. The early Ming Confucians adopted the basis of the Song Neo-Confucian ethos, such as the distinction between li (principle/pattern) and yu 欲 (desires). Zhu Xi’s instruction of self-­ cultivation through the practice of jing 敬 (seriousness/concentration), on the one hand, and on the other hand through investigating things and reading books, has gone uncontested among early Ming Neo-Confucians. Great challenges to Zhu Xi’s instruction of self-cultivation emerged with Chen Xianzhang 陳獻章 (1428–1500, also known as Chen Baisha 陳白沙) and Wang Yangming 王陽明 (1472–1529). Huang Zongxi considered Chen Xianzhang to be the Confucian who initiated the scholarship characteristic of the Ming period.8 However, like Lu Jiuyuan, Chen was not keen on philosophical analysis; he only indicated the general direction of Ming ideas. Wang Yangming was the most influential philosopher during the Ming period, challenging Zhu Xi’s way of  For Wu Yubi, see Huang Z. (1985: [1] 14–28). For Hu Juren, see Huang Z. (1985: [2] 29–43). For Xue Xuan, see Huang Z. (1985: [7] 109–24). 8  Cf. Huang Z. (1985: [5] 78). 7

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s­ elf-­cultivation and his moral psychology, proposing new doctrines, and coherently defending them, opening up an entirely new philosophical vision and laying the foundation for the debates among subsequent Ming Confucians. Chen Xianzhang studied under Wu Yubi, a well-known contemporary Confucian who was very strict to himself and to his disciples (Huang Z. 1985: [1] 15). Though Chen was trained by Wu in the hermeneutics of the Confucian classics, he did not find a way to internalize the teachings of the past sages and worthies into his own heart-mind. After he left Wu, he endeavored for years to seek the Way through reading Confucian classics, only to find that “there was nowhere the heart/mind and the li (principle/pattern) can be united” (Chen X. 1987: 145). He then gave up, practiced quiet sitting for several years, and gradually experienced that the original substance of the heart-mind manifests itself. On this basis, he could then comprehend and follow at ease the li (pattern/principle) of how to respond to things, all of which were coherent with the documented teachings of the sages. He was therefore confident that quiet sitting was the key to becoming a sage (Chen X. 1987: 145). Compared with the study of the Confucian classics, quiet sitting was considered to be more essential to self-cultivation, because it enabled one to experience the manifestation of the original substance of the heart-mind. In this sense, Chen’s position is closer to Lu Jiuyuan, who, in debates with Zhu Xi, famously contended that only when one gains insight into the heart-mind itself can one lay the basis for absorbing the moral knowledge learned from the investigation of external things (cf. Lu 1980: [34] 427, [36] 491). In setting priority on the self-manifestation of the heart-mind over discursive learning, Chen Xianzhang can be regarded as the precursor of Wang Yangming and the initiator of the movement of the learning of the heart-mind (xinxue 心學) in the Ming Neo-Confucianism, which has been acknowledged by both Wang Yangming’s disciple, Wang Ji (Huang Z. 1985: [12] 260) and Huang Zongxi (Huang Z. 1985: [5] 78), though there were other Ming Confucians very critical of Chen Xianzhang’s influence, for instance Luo Qinshun 羅欽順 (1465–1547) (Luo 1990: 39) and Liu Zongzhou 劉宗周 (1578–1645) (Huang Z. 1985: 4–5). Wang Yangming has been widely considered to be the most influential Confucian after Zhu Xi. He and Lu Jiuyuan were the founders of the Lu–Wang School of the heart-mind (Lu-Wang Xinxue 陸王心學). Like Chen Xianzhang, Wang Yangming began his inquiry of the Confucian Way of self-cultivation by following Zhu Xi’s instructions. At the Chinese age of 11, Wang Yangming stated that the first rate accomplishment for a man is to become a sage (Wang Y. 2010: 1226). Later in his youth he thought that if li resides in all things, and, according to Zhu Xi, self-­cultivation should begin with ge wu 格物—namely, investigate things to attain the li in them—then he might start investigating the li in the bamboos in his father’s official residence. He endeavored so hard but did not succeed and he became sick in the end (Wang Y. 2010: 131–32, 1228). At the age of 27, he regretted that he did not properly follow Zhu Xi’s well-defined procedure of investigating things. He tried again by reading the classics and sought to internalize the li recorded in them, but, similar to Chen Xianzhang, he eventually found that “the heart-mind and the li are still two distinct things” (Wang Y. 2011:1350).

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At 37, Wang Yangming was banished to Longchang 龍場, because he offended a eunuch who illegally controlled the imperial court. Having to live in a semi-­ civilized area and endure great hardship, he asked himself what a sage would do in such a predicament. He practiced quiet sitting night and day, till one night it dawned upon him that the Way of the Confucian sage is complete in every individual’s xing (transcendent nature) endowed from Heaven and a priori in the heart-mind. He realized that he was misguided to seek li in external things (Wang Y. 2011:1354). From then on, he began to criticize Zhu Xi’s way of self-cultivation and his underlying moral psychology. He explained, After I had lived among the barbarians for [almost] three years, I understood what all this meant and realized that there is really nothing in the things in the world to investigate, that the effort to investigate things is only to be carried out in and with reference to one’s body and mind, and that if one firmly believes that everyone can become a sage, one will naturally be able to take up the task of investigating things. This idea, gentlemen, I must convey to you. (Chan 1963: 689)

Since the eight steps of self-cultivation in the Great Learning had become a significant classical touchstone for ethical thought among Ming Confucians partly owing to Zhu Xi’s commentary, it was necessary for Wang Yangming to re-­interpret the text. His early inquiry centered on the puzzle of ge wu (which Zhu Xi interprets as “investigating things”) as the initial phase of learning. Now that Wang realized that investigating external things is not essential to self-cultivation, he sought to re-­define ge and wu: Ge 格 was understood as “rectifying,” and wu was interpreted not as “entities” but as “activities” or “actions intended by the thoughts in the heart-­mind.” In this way, to ge wu means to correct one’s thoughts or intentions to do something so that the thoughts or actions accord well with the moral standards inherent in one’s heart-mind. He wrote, “What I mean by the investigation of things [ge wu] and the extension of knowledge is to extend the innate knowledge of my mind to each and every thing. The innate knowledge of my mind is the same as the Principle of Nature. When the Principle of Nature in the innate knowledge of my mind is extended to all things, all things will attain their principle” (Wang Y. 1963: 99). Not only did Wang Yangming re-interpret ge wu, he also argued against Zhu Xi’s reshuffling of the whole text of the Great Learning. He insisted that the old version of the Great Learning is more reliable than Zhu Xi’s new version, because Zhu Xi falsely maintained that the passage order in the old version should be rearranged by putting the passage of cheng yi 誠意 (making thoughts sincere) behind the passage explaining ge wu zhi zhi 格物致知 (investigating things and extending knowledge). Notably that a passage on ge wu zhi zhi was supplemented by Zhu Xi because he believed that the original text should contain passages to explain each stage of self-cultivation, but the passage on “ge wu zhi shi” was unfortunately lost (Zhu 1983: 6–7). By contrast, Wang Yangming believed that there is good reason why the passage on “making thoughts sincere” is prior to that on “investigating things,” because based on his new theory of moral psychology, the ultimate source of both moral knowledge and the motivation for moral action is the pure substance of the heart-mind. Therefore, “making thoughts sincere” is the key to self-cultivation. “Investigating things” is neither a stage before “making thoughts sincere,” nor

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its preconditions. Wang Yangming interprets ge wu as “rectifying the thoughts with reference to actions,” and believes that ge wu and “making thoughts sincere” describes two aspects of the same process of self-cultivation.9 In support for his claim that there is no li external to the heart-mind, Wang Yangming argued that if the li resides in the objects of moral action rather than in the heart-mind of the moral agents, then, when the objects disappear the li would cease to be. However, it is not the case that when one’s parents pass away, one’s love and filial piety for them cease to be, for these belong to the heart-mind and not to external objects (Wang Y. 2011: 1354). In serving one’s parents, li is not to be found in the mere objects (the parents); rather, one should search in one’s heart-mind for the sources of motivation (love and care for parents). This moral knowledge or moral awareness is the “root” for moral action, while other knowledge (concerning technical knowledge, e.g., medical knowledge to take care of the parents) is the “branch” growing out of the “root” (Wang Y. 2011: 3). Namely, anyone who has the “root” would naturally be motivated to search for the “branch.” In other words, Wang Yangming makes a distinction similar to that between means and ends, treating technical knowledge as a means to the ends of moral action. In his claim that there is no li external to the heart-mind, Wang Yangming limits the “li” to moral knowledge, and excludes technical knowledge, because what is at issue here is the special kind of knowledge that motivates one to act morally. It is argued that Wang Yangming’s notion of knowledge in ethics is neither knowing-that (factual knowledge), nor knowing-how (technical knowledge), but knowing-to (knowledge concerning motivation). The mental state of a person possessing “knowing-to” is both cognitive and affective (cf. Huang Y. 2017). Both Zhu Xi and Wang Yangming proclaimed themselves to be Mencian thinkers. However, Wang Yangming commented that Zhu Xi’s instruction of seeking li in external things is essentially Gaozi’s view that yi 義 (righteousness) is external, a view Mencius criticized (Wang Y. 2011: 2, 48). Wang Yangming stated that the heart-mind is principle, a statement Lu Jiuyuan also made, but did not explicate as argumentatively as Wang Yangming did (Lu 1980: [11] 149). Apart from the strength of its philosophical analysis, what is unique of Wang Yangming’s thought is that he does not consider the heart-mind as separable from external things. He stated that it is not only wrong to seek moral principles of things outside of the heart-mind, but that it is also mistaken to seek the self-manifestation of the heart-mind beyond the moral principle of how to respond to external things. He wrote, “He who only seeks his original mind and consequently neglects the principles of things is one who has lost his original mind.” (Wang Y. 1963: 94). The heart-mind is not an entity separable from external things or actions. When the moral agent is dealing with external things, if the heart-mind 9  For a detailed account of how Wang Yangming revised his “Preface of the Ancient Edition of the Great Learning” and how he used it to argue against Zhu Xi’s view that knowledge should precede action, cf. Zheng (2018). In this paper, I argue that both Wang Yangming’s earlier doctrine of “the unity of knowing and doing” and his later doctrine of liangzhi (original knowledge of the good) are a response to Zhu Xi’s puzzle of sincerity and self-deception.

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is not obscured by selfish desires, the principle or pattern of moral action inherent in the heart-mind would manifest itself. He stated, “When the mind is free from the obscuration of selfish desires, it is the embodiment of the Principle of Nature, which requires not an iota added from the outside.”(Wang Y. 1963: 7) The reason is this: the heart-mind is the sovereign of the body. Its substance is the xing 性 (transcendent nature), and according to the Cheng brothers and Zhu Xi, transcendent nature is identical to the li (pattern/principle) (Wang Y. 2011: 48). Wang Yangming revised the statement “the heart-mind is li” (xin ji li 心即理) to become “the heart-mind in things [actions] is li” (ci xin zai wu ze wei li 此心在物則為理): The disciple further asked about the theory that the mind is identical with principle, and said, “Master Ch’eng I [Cheng Yi 程頤 (1033–1107)] said, ‘What is inherent in a thing is principle.’ How can it be said that the mind is identical with principle?” The teacher said, “The word ‘mind’ should be added to the saying to mean that when the mind is engaged in a thing, there is principle [ci xin zai wu ze wei li 此心在物則為理, translated literally, “the heart in things (actions) is principle”]. For example, when the mind is engaged in serving one’s father, there is the principle of filial piety, and when the mind is engaged in serving the ruler, there is the principle of loyalty, and so forth.” (Wang Y. 1963: 251)

Not only did Wang Yangming argue against Zhu Xi’s way of self-cultivation, but he also challenged the underlying moral psychology about the relation of knowledge and action. His well-known doctrine, “the unity of knowing and doing” (zhi xing he yi 知行合一), is a response to Zhu Xi’s philosophy of action. Zhu Xi follows Cheng Yi in maintaining that one who has genuine moral knowledge would naturally act accordingly. Without genuine knowledge, one might fail to act accordingly; even if one acts accordingly, the action would be morally defective, involving sometimes hypocrisy, sometimes insincerity and even self-deception, and sometimes reluctance or strenuousness. Therefore, Zhu Xi believed that knowledge should be prior to action (Zhu 2002, vol. 23: 2883; cf. Zheng 2015b: 350). Ideally, one should attain genuine knowledge before taking action. This priority is not about the degree of importance, for Zhu Xi believed that moral action is more important than mere knowledge (Zhu 1986: [9] 148). Nor is it about temporal sequence, for we usually gain genuine knowledge through practice. This priority meant that the antecedent is the precondition for the later stage to be efficiently done. In terms of the eight steps of self-cultivation in the Great Learning, Zhu Xi maintained that ge wu (investigating things) and zhi zhi 致知 (extending knowledge) are the preconditions for cheng yi (making thoughts sincere) and having other moral actions efficiently done without strenuousness. At the age of 38, Wang Yangming proposed the famous dictum zhi xing he yi (unity of knowing and doing) to challenge Zhu Xi’s priority of knowledge over action. In the pure state of the heart-mind, knowing and doing are two aspects of one and the same thing that he calls “the original state/substance of knowing and doing” (zhi xing ben ti 知行本體). In those cases where one seems to know the good but fails to do accordingly, selfish desires have undermined the motivational basis, and separated the original state of knowing and doing. Such a moral agent does not

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genuinely have knowledge. Wang Yangming pointed out some interesting phenomena to support this, he says, Therefore the Great Learning points to true knowledge and action for people to see, saying, they are ‘like loving beautiful colors and hating bad odors.’ Seeing ‘beautiful colors’ appertains to knowledge, while ‘loving beautiful colors’ appertains to action. However, as soon as one sees that beautiful color, he has already loved it. It is not that he sees it first and then makes up his mind to love it. Smelling ‘a bad odor’ appertains to knowledge, while ‘hating a bad odor’ appertains to action. However, as soon as one smells a bad odor, he has already hated it. It is not that he smells it first, and then makes up his mind to hate it. A person with his nose stuffed up does not smell the bad odor even if he sees a malodorous object before him, and so he does not hate it. This amounts to not knowing bad odor. Suppose we say that so-and-so knows filial piety and so-and-so knows brotherly respect. They must have actually practiced filial piety and brotherly respect before they can be said to know them. It will not do to say that they know filial piety and brotherly respect simply because they show them in words. Or take one’s knowledge of pain. Only after one has experienced pain can one know pain. The same is true of cold or hunger. How can knowledge and action be separated? (Chan 1963: 669)

From this passage it is evident that the knowledge Wang Yangming is concerned with is knowledge in practice, not theoretical knowledge, and he believes moral knowledge shares some characteristics with knowledge related to first-person embodied experience. In somatic experience, to know that one is in a state (e.g., pain) implies that one has already felt such a state; to know what is to be desired implies that one is already motivated by such desires (provided that there is no obstruction in acting on that desire). By the same token, in the ideal state of the heart-mind without any obscuration of selfishness, to know authentically what one should do entails that one is already motivated to do accordingly. In this sense, the state of knowing and the state of being motivated are two aspects of the same experience. Wang Yangming admitted that knowing and doing can be conceptually separated. Therefore those who tend to act rashly are taught to be wise, while those who tend to deliberate for too long and procrastinate are taught that only in action can beliefs be verified (Wang Y. 1963: 669–70). This conceptual distinction does not mean that knowing and doing are separable in the midst of actions. Zhu Xi’s priority of knowledge over action might mislead people to dwell on discussions and so procrastinate, without realizing that genuine knowledge is first-person embodied knowledge that needs to be strengthened and enriched by practice (Wang Y. 2011: 23–24). Wang Yangming’s criticism of Zhu Xi became heatedly controversial to his contemporaries after he compiled and published a short anthology of Zhu Xi’s writings and entitled “Zhu Zi Wan Nian Ding Lun” 朱子晚年定論 (Master Zhu’s Final Conclusions Arrived at Late in Life).10 Wang Yangming selected some of Zhu Xi’s correspondence in which Zhu’s view of self-cultivation seems to have some affinity with Lu Jiuyuan’s. By this selection Wang Yangming intended to show that Zhu Xi in his final conclusions regretted his earlier doctrines, and so stood especially in  Cf. Chan Wing-tsit’s note on the Preface to Chu Hsi’s [Zhu Xi] Final Conclusions Arrived at Late in Life in Wang Y. (1963: 263–64). 10

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agreement with Lu Jiuyuan. However, Wang Yangming mistook some of Zhu Xi’s earlier letters as his later writings, a problem pointed out by Luo Qinshun (Luo 1990: 110). In a letter replying to Luo, Wang Yangming admitted the mistakes, simultaneously he explained that he intended by this anthology to reconcile the conflict between Zhu Xi’s thoughts and his own, because all of his life he had admired Zhu Xi almost as a sacred authority, finding it unbearable to oppose his doctrine, therefore Wang Yangming could not help himself to do anything but to compile the book (Wang Y. 1963: 164). Wang Yangming’s publication of this anthology of Zhu Xi provoked the followers of Zhu Xi to undertake extensive research on the chronology of the evolvement of Zhu Xi’s thought, with special intention to ascertain whether Zhu Xi ended up agreeing with Lu Jiuyuan and so changed his own position. Chen Jian 陳建 (1497– 1567), in defense of Zhu Xi, argued that Zhu Xi and Lu Jiuyuan agreed at the beginning and disagreed with each other in the end. His conclusions were exactly the opposite of Wang Yangming’s Master Zhu’s Final Conclusions. This study of chronology reached its acme in Wang Maohong’s 王懋竑 (1668–1741) Zhu Zi Nian Pu 朱子年譜 (Chronicle of Master Zhu), concluding that later Zhu Xi remained greatly in disagreement with Lu Jiuyuan’s teaching.11 In the transitional period from the Ming to the Qing empire, there was a trend to reaffirm Zhu Xi’s authority with regard to self-cultivation, in view of the negative influences of some followers of Wang Yangming. They one-sidedly pushed Wang Yangming’s doctrine to extremes, either claiming that everyone is already a sage (a view represented by Wang Gen 王艮 and the School of Taizhou 泰州 he initiated), or that the original substance or state of the heart-mind is, in a sense, beyond good and evil (a view represented by Wang Ji 王畿). Some of them indulged in the speculation about the original and complete substance of the heart-mind, in the belief that through a sudden enlightenment one can realize the sagely Way without any need of real effort of self-discipline. Some of the scholars (for instance, Gu Yanwu 顧炎武 1613–1682) wished to counterbalance this negative influence of Wang’s school by emphasizing some of Zhu Xi’s doctrines, especially the importance of studies of the classics. Zhu Xi’s distinction between qi zhi zhi xing 氣質之性 (physical nature) and yi li zhi xing 義理之性 (moral nature that transcends the limitation of physical nature) was rejected by scholars such as Qian Yiben 錢一本 (1539–1610), Sun Shenxing 孫慎行 (1564–1635), Liu Zongzhou, Huang Zongxi, and Wang Fuzhi 王夫之 (1619–1692, also known as Wang Chuanshan 王船山). They emphasized practices improving one’s ethical quality through transforming one’s qi and correcting one’s habits, contending that one should not dwell on the speculation of the transcendent nature as if one could become a sage through sudden enlightenment (Qian 1997: 12–15). The most radical thinkers in this trend went so far as to reject the Neo-Confucian learning as a whole. Yan Yuan 顏元 (1635–1704) claimed that Song–Ming Neo-­  For a brief history of the chronological study of Zhu Xi and how it was motivated by the debates between Zhu Xi’s school and the Lu–Wang School, cf. Zhang X. (2000: 384). 11

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Confucianism was diametrically opposed to the teachings of Confucius and Mencius. He was from northern China. When he travelled to the South he found that the Neo-Confucians there knew nothing but abstruse discourses and meditation practices similar to Chan-Buddhism (Yan 1987: 774). He contended that Confucius and Mencius taught disciples to practice in dealing with concrete things. For him, knowledge learned from reading books is worthless. The only knowledge that he did not disdain was the pragmatic knowledge that can yield concrete results in their utility. He disagreed with the Song–Ming Neo-Confucian view that qi zhi 氣質 (physical nature) could be a source of evil, and countered that everyone’s physical nature is originally good (Yan 1987: 1). If anyone of them becomes evil, it is their habits that are to blame. Therefore rituals and music are needed to maintain and enhance the originally good physical nature. Yan Yuan’s doctrine was disseminated to the southern China by Li Gong 李塨 (1659–1733), his most eminent student, who networked well with southern scholars and, unlike his master, showed much more interest in textual research. The Ming–Qing Confucians’ distaste for empty speculation was at first a reaction to some of Wang Yangming’s followers, but it later grew into repulsion against any speculation about any ultimate transcendent being existing beyond the material world. Pan Pingge 潘平格 (1610–1677) famously comments that Zhu Xi’s thought is Daoist and Lu Jiuyuan’s thought is Chan-Buddhistt. This comment convinced Wan Sitong 萬斯同 (1638–1702), a famous historian of early Qing period, which irritated his master Huang Zongxi, who was a successor of the Ming tradition of Wang Yangming (Qian 1997: 57). This story testifies to the eclipse of Song–Ming Neo-­Confucian learning in the community of Qing scholar-officials.

4 Wang Fuzhi and Later Confucians’ Critique of Zhu Xi’s Metaphysics Chen Xianzhang’s and Wang Yangming’s criticisms of Zhu Xi focus on Zhu Xi’s ethics, meanwhile Zhu Xi’s metaphysics has not remained uncontested throughout the Ming dynasty. An early Ming Confucian, Cao Duan 曹端 (1376–1434), started to challenge Zhu Xi’s view that Taiji 太極 (the Great Ultimate) is neither active nor tranquil. In his interpretation of Zhou Dunyi’s “Taiji Tu Shuo 太極圖說” (Explanations of the Diagram of the Great Ultimate), Zhu Xi had claimed that Taiji is the totality of principles or patterns, it is the reason why yang (the active and positive forces or aspects of qi) and yin (the passive and negative forces or aspects of qi) are differentiated. However, it is by itself neither active nor tranquil. He compares the relation between yin-yang and Taiji to the relation between a horse and its rider (Zhu 1986: 2374). Cao Duan contended that if it were the case, then the rider is a dead corpse and the Taiji or li is a dead li (Huang Z. 1985: [44] 1069). That is to say, they cannot actively determine anything, but are simply carried by the supporting elements that determine the direction of changes. However, Cao Duan had

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misunderstood Zhu Xi, because what Zhu Xi meant by this metaphor was exactly to emphasize the guiding role of li within the processes of the changes of qi that contain the two opposing elements of yin and yang. Li is the ultimate reason for the determination of the direction of changes. Li is not a pre-existing cause that dictates the direction of qi, but serves as a metaphysical foundation on account of which qi changes or has a certain attribute. Therefore Zhu Xi emphasized that the li is neither active nor tranquil in the same sense as qi is active or tranquil (Zhu 1986: 2373–74). Xue Xuan followed Cao Duan in stressing the point that Taiji should be active. He doubted whether li is prior to qi. He argued that there is an inconsistency in the doctrines of Cheng Yi and Zhu Xi (cf. Xue 2015: [3] 729). On the one hand, if li is prior to qi, and this priority is understood by Xue Xuan in a temporal sense, then there should be a period before the existence of qi and a starting point of the genesis of yin and yang; On the other hand, Zhu Xi adopted Cheng Yi’s doctrine that “activity and tranquility have no beginning, and yin and yang have no starting point” (Chan 1963: 571). Xue Xuan used Cheng Yi’s doctrine to negate Zhu Xi’s view of the priority of li over qi, but he did not understand that for Zhu Xi li is prior to qi not in a temporal sense; rather, li is the foundation for the state or change of qi, and so li is only logically prior to qi. Generally speaking, in the Ming dynasty there was a trend to depart from Zhu Xi’s metaphysical theory that li is prior to qi, and so to opt for the position that li is inherent in qi. Hu Juren, for instance, disagreed with the statement that “when the li exists there is a correspondent qi, and qi comes from li.” Instead he maintained that the opposite is the case, namely, “When the qi exists there is a correspondent li, li comes from qi” (Huang Z. 1985: [2] 35). In this sense, li is inherent in and not separable from qi. Luo Qinshun shared this general view in disagreement with Zhu Xi’s metaphysics, even though he was widely considered to be an important follower of Zhu Xi because of his insistence on Zhu Xi’s way of self-cultivation in his debates with Wang Yangming. According to Luo, li is merely the li of qi, and it should be observed in the changes of li. Qi is necessarily and constantly in the transformation, as if there is a sovereignty that governs the process. Li is the name for such a necessity (Luo 1990: 68). Luo takes li to denote the necessity of the rule of the natural changes of qi, rather than any transcendent substance beyond the realm of qi. Luo criticized some of the sayings of Zhou Dunyi, Cheng Yi, and Zhu Xi that suggested there was a dichotomy of li and qi, as if they were two separable substances. He is significant in the transitional period of the metaphysics of the Ming period, because he not only believed that li resides exclusively in qi, but also further stated unambiguously that li is only the necessity that rules qi and not a substance at all. The monistic trend gained even greater momentum with the emergence of the school of Wang Yangming, but also involved some conceptual complexity. Both followers and opponents of Wang Yangming tended to adopt a metaphysical monism, although for very different reasons.12 On the one hand, some of Wang  For an account of the immanent monistic tendency in the late Ming period and its relation to the school of Wang Yangming, cf. S. Liu (1986: 29 and Cheng 2000: 1–40). 12

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Yangming’s followers believed that the relationship between heart-mind and xing (transcendent nature) is congruous with the relationship between qi and li. Liu Zongzhou stated that the heart-mind pertains to qi, and xing is the li of the heartmind, namely, xing is the ideal order of the activities of heart-mind. The li is not separable from qi, and the xing is not separable from the heart-mind (Huang Z. 1985: [62] 1560). This view was later drawn on by his disciple, Huang Zongxi, to point out Luo Qinshun’s inconsistency: Luo sharply distinguished xing from heartmind, and thought that xing pertained to the realm of transcendence, pre-existing the heart-mind, and serving as the proper object for the capacity of awareness of the heart-mind. In this sense, xing and the heart-mind would be separable, whereas Luo contended that li is inseparable from qi, manifesting where his argument was inconsistent (Huang Z. 1985: [47] 1109). On the other hand, the opponents of Wang Yangming suspected that his teaching was simply Chan-Buddhism disguised as Neo-Confucianism; like Chan-Buddhists, some followers of Wang Yangming indulged in speculations about the transcendent realm beyond good and evil. In order to distinguish Confucianism from the School of Wang Yangming, these oppponents were alert to any Neo-Confucian doctrines that seemed to indicate the existence of a transcendent realm independent of the mundane world. In this process they ended up dismissing Zhu Xi’s seemingly dualistic position suggested in his distinction between li and qi. Wang Fuzhi is the greatest and most systematic critic of Zhu Xi’s metaphysics. In an epitaph written for himself, he stated clearly that he admired Zhang Zai’s ideas as the correct doctrines of Confucianism. In support of Zhang Zai’s metaphysics of qi, he wrote a commentary on Zhang Zai’s Zheng Meng 正蒙 (Correcting Youthful Ignorance). For this, he is widely considered to be a materialist (for instance, Hou et al. 1984: [2] 910). However, although it is clear that Wang Fuzhi believed that all things are ultimately qi, and that li is inherent in qi, whether he is a materialist would hinge on the issue of whether he believed that qi is nothing but matter. He could be more aptly labeled as a realist that has a certain materialist tendency. Unlike Zhang Zai, whose major target of criticism was Buddhism and Daoism, Wang Fuzhi found it equally necessary to avoid any dualism of li and qi, which most Ming Confucians believed was the essence of the metaphysics of the Cheng brothers and Zhu Xi. In the history of the reception of Song Confucians’ ideas, Zhang Zai’s influence in metaphysics was surpassed by the Cheng brothers and Zhu Xi. The crucial point of this transition is that Zhang Zai’s theory of qi and taixu 太虛 (the Great Void) was dismissed by the Cheng brothers and replaced by the distinction between li and qi. For Zhang Zai, qi is the substance that forms all things and underlies all changes. Even the Great Void (taixu 太虛) is nothing but qi in its original formless state, which he described as pure, void, unified, and vast. Zhang Zai’s cosmology is meant to compete with Daoism and Buddhism, who, according to Zhang Zai, believed that ultimate reality belonged to other realms of existence beyond qi and concrete things (see Zhang Z. 1978a, b: 8). However, Zhang Zai’s view of taixu was criticized by the Cheng brothers. Cheng Hao 程顥 (1032–1085) argued that

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the Dao of Heaven pertained to the realm above-form (xing-er-shang 形而上), so that such descriptive terms as “pure,” “void,” “unified,” and “vast” as Zhang Zai used are not applicable (Cheng and Cheng 2004: 118). Cheng Yi also argued that it was mistaken to describe taixu as “vast,” and even denied that there is such a thing or state as taixu; rather, li (pattern/principle) is the ultimate reality (Cheng and Cheng 2004: 66). In this way, the Cheng brothers substitute li for Zhang Zai’s Great Void and relegating the Great Void to the same level of xing-er-xia 形而下 (beneath-form) as qi, claiming that the li is non-material and pertain to the level of xing-er-shang (above-form). From this transition the distinction between li and qi emerged and gradually became a defining feature of Cheng–Zhu Lixue 程朱理學 (Cheng–Zhu School of the learning of li). This doctrine was widely understood as a metaphysical dualism by Ming Confucian scholars. Interpreters of Zhang Zai are divided into two camps. Some consider him to be a materialist thinker, while others believed that he did endeavor to articulate a theory about non-material substance, but failed to formulate it in proper terminology. The former view is held by some contemporary historians of Chinese philosophical tradition in mainland China influenced by Marxism (see Zhang D. 1978a, b: 1–7), while the latter view is held by the Cheng brothers and Mou Zongsan 牟宗三, an influential modern Confucian philosopher (see Mou 1968: 417–86). Wang Fuzhi straightened out this ambiguity and insisted on a “quasi-materialist” interpretation of Zhang Zai. However, it is safer to characterize Wang Fuzhi’s position as realist or monistic (cf. J. Liu 2010: 357). Wang Fuzhi’s thought is a great synthesis of Ming Confucian reflections on the relationship between li and qi. Although early Ming Confucians had argued that li is not separable from qi, they did not state it as clear as Luo Qinshun had done, that li is not a substance at all, but is the rule or the necessity of rules that can be observed in the changes of things. Wang Fuzhi also considered li to be the inherent order of qi, and therefore dependent on qi. Like Luo Qinshun who described li as the rules of changes detectable in the dynamics of the changes of qi, and so not a mere static pattern, Wang Fuzhi also linked the li to the dynamics of things. He stated, At bottom principle [li] is not a finished product that can be grasped. It is invisible. The details and order of material force [qi] is principle that is visible. Therefore the first time there is any principle is when it is seen in material force. After principles have thus been found, they of course appear to become tendencies. We see principle only in the necessary aspects of tendencies. (Chan 1963: 698).

Wang Fuzhi supported his contention that qi is the ultimate substance partly through metaphysical contemplation and partly through observations in physics. In physics, on the one hand, Wang Fuzhi noticed that things change into one another, in forms sometimes visible and sometimes invisible, but the matter never ceased to exist. A piece of wood when burnt turns into smoke and ash, but its ingredients of the five elements still exist. Therefore, we can only say that materials of qi come and go, appear and disappear, but cannot say that they come into being or cease to exist (Wang F.: 1988–1996, vol. 12: 21–22; Cf. Xiao and Xu 2002: 102).

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On the other hand, Wang Fuzhi drew on such metaphysical terms as cheng 誠 (sincere/true/real), ti 體 (substance), and yong 用 (function) to support his realist position against nihilism. According to Xiao Jiefu 蕭萐父 and Xu Sumin 許蘇民, Wang Fuzhi outdid previous materialist thinkers such as Wang Tingxiang 王廷相 (1474–1544), who still associated qi with an ether-like matter that has a certain physical form. Wang Fuzhi raised the level of philosophical abstraction in metaphysics by associating qi and taixu (the original state of qi) to the category of cheng 誠 (Wang F. 1988–1996, vol. 12: 402. Cf. Xiao and Xu 2002: 90–91). Cheng in Chinese language means “true” or “truly,” “sincere(ly)” or “real(ly).” Wang Fuzhi defined cheng as “there really is something,” “there intrinsically is something” (Wang F. 1988–1996, vol. 2: 353). Wang Fuzhi distinguished between two senses of cheng: cheng being without falsehood or pretension, and cheng being reality. The cheng of Heaven as reality is more fundamental than cheng as being without falsehood or pretension. Cheng is “the highest word that can neither be replaced or explained by other terms, nor be described by yet other words” (Wang F. 1988– 1996, vol. 6: 995). In this sense, the position of cheng in Wang Fuzhi’s thought is close to that of “being” in Western metaphysics—both are considered as the highest category because neither can be explained by other terms or categories, and others cannot be talked about without reference to cheng or “being.” Wang Fuzhi stated, “cheng” as an ontological term is a word without rivals (wu dui zhi ci 無對之詞), unlike “cheng” (sincerity) as an ethical term that still has “deception” or “disguise” as its rival. To support this view, Wang Fuzhi quoted from Zhongyong 中庸 (Doctrine of the Mean) the ontological view that “Without cheng there would be nothing” (Wang F. 1988–1996, vol.6: 995), namely, after the negation of “cheng,” there is nothing that could remain as the rival of “cheng.” A tension in Wang Fuzhi’s usages of cheng involved the question of whether cheng is restricted to finite perceptible things. On the one hand, there is a tendency in Wang Fuzhi’s thought to associate cheng with finite perceptible things, as he claimed, “Cheng means there really is something which has its beginning and end, and so can be seen and heard by all” (Wang F. 1988–1996, vol. 2: 306). However, this limit is contradictory to his view that cheng is the ultimate category that covers all beings, including taixu as the original state of qi, which is imperceptible. On the other hand, sometimes Wang Fuzhi’s definition of cheng is extended so broadly as to cover “what the heart-mind believes, what is permissible by li, and what has reality” (Wang F. 1988–1996, vol. 1: 62). The latter is an extended definition that seems to be more consistent with other doctrines of Wang Fuzhi. Perhaps it is this tension that leads Wang Fuzhi to use the pair, ti 體 (substance) and yong 用 (function), in his metaphysics. Cheng, although sometimes imperceptible, is the ti (substance) of a thing, because when a thing comes into being out of formlessness, its patterns and orders are initially imperceptible, but gradually become clear. From this it is evident that there is a substance underlying the process of the perceptible phenomena of things. He insisted that both the substance and the function (or appearance) of a concrete thing are real (Wang F. 1988–1996, vol. 12:

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422). In order to argue against nihilism, Wang Fuzhi frequently uses the pair of ti (substance) and yong (function). For example, he claimed, All functions in the world are those of existing things. From the functions I know they possess substance. Why should we entertain any doubt? Function exists to become effect, and substance exists to become nature and feelings. Both substance and function exist, and each depends on the other to be concrete. Therefore all that fills the universe demonstrates the principle of mutual dependence. Therefore it is said, “Sincerity (realness) is the beginning and the end of things. Without sincerity there will be nothing.” (Chan 1963: 696; for original text, cf. Wang F. 1988–1996, vol. 1: 861)

Wang Fuzhi’s originality in metaphysics lies not only in his theory of cheng and the conception of ti–yong (substance and function), but also in his unique theory about particularity and concreteness. Chan Wing-tsit points this out: “Wang has been correctly described as Zhang’s [Chang’s] successor. But he actually went beyond Zhang [Chang]. What he wanted was not only materiality, but concreteness of materiality” (Chan 1963: 692–93). For Wang Fuzhi, “The world consists only of concrete things (qi 器).” He draws on the classical distinction of Dao 道 as “above-­ form” and qi 器 as “beneath-form”; qi 器 means “concrete things,” especially utensils, while Dao is the way a concrete thing is or functions, or the way a utensil is made and used. Wang Fuzhi argued that concrete things are substances, while Dao is merely a correlate of concrete things. He supported this claim by a linguistic observation: normally we can only say that a “Dao” is the “Dao of a concrete thing,” but we cannot say that a concrete thing is the “concrete thing of a Dao.” What he meant by this is that, on the one hand, from a concrete thing we may analyze its principle: “If there is (the) [a] concrete thing, there need be no worry about there not being its Way” (Chan 1963: 694). On the other hand, we cannot reversely say that a concrete thing is the “concrete thing of a Dao,” because the term “Dao” is used merely to describe some aspects of concrete things (Wang F. 1988–1996, vol. 1: 1027). Wang Fuzhi boldly claimed that people usually know merely that, without Dao there would be no concrete utensils, but seldom realize that without concrete utensils there would be no Dao. For instance, without the invention of the cart and horse-­ riding, there is no Dao of driving and horsemanship; without the invention of bow and arrow there is no Dao of archery. Without the utensils used for the practice of rituals there is no Dao of rituals. This seems to run counter to our intuition that an imagination of a utensil precedes the invention of a concrete thing. Wang Fuzhi supported this claim by saying that “a person may be ignorant of the Way of a thing, and the concrete thing therefore cannot be completed. But not being completed does not mean that there is no concrete thing” (Chan 1963: 694). Here Wang Fuzhi might be saying that the Dao of concrete things is realized progressively along with the invention of concrete things. The case in which a concrete thing is not completely made should not be used to argue that there could exist an abstract idea before the existence of a corresponding concrete thing. Rather, in such a case, there exist both an incomplete utensil and an incomplete Dao. Without a complete utensil, even the Dao of it is defective. In this context of the discussion of human inventions of materials, Wang Fuzhi’s thesis is defensible if the Dao here is understood not as an abstract idea or static pattern, but as a dynamic process of the materialization

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from mere abstract ideas to concrete utensils. However, for Wang Fuzhi this thesis can also hold true to the knowledge of nature, since he holds that li is only the li of qi and does not exist independently. Wang Fuzhi confirmed, “Principle depends on material force. When material force is strong, principle prevails” (Chan 1963: 697). Not only in the natural world is it the case, but also in the human world; order is attained and improved when the accomplishment of a civilization reaches a certain high level. Therefore, Wang Fuzhi’s metaphysics is a form of “realism” informed by humanism and a sense of optimism about the development of human civilization. To sum up, Wang Fuzhi emphasized the importance of the dynamics of qi and the progress of civilization, in the hope that if people are aware of these and endeavor to improve the real world, Chinese culture could enter a new era of progress beyond the empty speculation of some Song–Ming Neo-Confucians, Buddhists and Daoists. Although he is widely regarded as a materialist because he negated the independence of li as a substance, it is indeed more appropriate to call Wang Fuzhi a “realist” who shows a certain materialist tendency. The idea that li is inherent in and inseparable from qi has a significant bearing in ethics. The distinction between li and qi is the foundation of a set of distinctions in Zhu Xi’s ethics. With the li–qi relationship changed, some ethical terms also necessarily changed their original meanings. Scholars began to reject Zhu Xi’s distinctions such as: (1) The distinction between yi li zhi xing 義理之性 (moral nature that transcends the limitation of physical nature) and qi zhi zhi xing 氣質之性 (physical nature), (2) The distinction between Dao xin 道心 (the heart-mind of Dao) and ren xin 人 心 (the heart-mind of humans), and (3) The distinction between tian li 天理 (principle of Heaven) and ren yu 人欲 (desires of humans). In these three pairs of distinctions, Zhu Xi stressed that the former is distinct from the latter because the former pertains purely to li. However, Confucian thinkers in the Ming–Qing transitional period tended to adopt the position that the former is merely the original or proper state or the intrinsic order of the latter. This conceptual transition took place gradually. (1) The first distinction seemed to be the earliest one to be discredited. Most Confucians in the Ming–Qing transitional period dismissed the dichotomy between the moral-and-transcendent nature and physical nature. (2) Once the first distinction was discredited, Liu Zongzhou further rejected what he believed to be Zhu Xi’s dichotomy between Dao xin (the heart-mind of Dao) and ren xin (the heart-mind of humans). He argued that if li is merely the li of qi, then the heart-mind of Dao is merely the original state of the heart-mind of humans. Earlier than Liu Zongzhou, Wang Yangming had also criticized this distinction of Zhu Xi. Nevertheless, their criticisms might not have done justice to Zhu Xi, for they distorted his view.

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(3) Chen Que 陳確 (1604–1677), one of Liu Zongzhou disciples, went even further to claim that this conceptual framework (that li is merely the li of qi) applied to the third distinction between the principle of Heaven and the desires of humans. Chen Que’s view was criticized by Huang Zongxi, another disciple of Liu Zongzhou (Qian 1997: 45–46). However, a similar view was supported by Wang Fuzhi and Dai Zhen, therefore becoming another defining feature of the Ming–Qing Confucianism.

5 Dai Zhen’s Criticism of Zhu Xi’s Ethics Dai Zhen was a leading scholar of the Han Learning School 漢學 in the Qing dynasty. The school was informed by evidential research method applied to pre-Qin Confucian classics as well as texts in other subjects, including mathematics, geography, phonology, and history. Later, this research method in classical textual criticism was also applied to other pre-Qin texts such as those associated with Mohism. Dai Zhen’s works of evidential study were highly admired by his contemporaries, while most of them showed no interest in his philosophical works, especially his criticism of Zhu Xi and Song–Ming Neo-Confucianism. Ironically, then, it is his criticism of the latter that is nowadays what makes Dai Zhen famous. Dai Zhen’s criticism of Zhu Xi’s ethics should be distinguished from his criticism of the ideology of the Qing dynasty. His most provocative ideological criticism is that “later Confucians” “killed people by means of li (pattern/principle)” (Dai 1991: 212, 214). By reference to “later Confucians” he does not mean Zhu Xi, Wang Yangming and other Song–Ming Neo-Confucian philosophers, but those of his contemporaries influenced by Song–Ming Neo-Confucianism which Dai Zhen believed has intrinsic defects and could lend itself to misuse, causing ethical and political disasters. Dai Zhen’s writings contain both ideological and academic criticisms. In this chapter I focus mainly on his academic criticisms of Zhu Xi, which consisted of two parts: a criticism of his asceticism and that of his ultra-­intuitionism. Dai Zhen believed that these two elements, when they became widespread as a dominant ideology, could become pernicious in its tendency; Dai argued that they were in fact borrowed from Daoism and Buddhism by Song–Ming Neo-­Confucians, and so smuggled into their interpretations of the Confucian classics. Therefore, in his Mengzi Ziyi Shuzheng 孟子字義疏證 (Commentary on the Meanings of Terms in the Mencius; hereafter Shuzheng), Dai Zhen claimed that he was defending the authentic doctrines of Confucius and Mencius against the distortions of them by the Song–Ming Neo-Confucians. In his “Letter to Duan Yucai” (“Yu Duan Ruoying Lun Li Shu 與段若膺論理 書”) Dai Zhen exclaimed, The later Confucians’ dichotomy between principle and desires was indeed a Daoist and Buddhist doctrine of eliminating desires. What they meant by the dichotomy between principle and desires was nothing but a contrast between rectitude and wickedness. What they said about preserving principle in one’s mind was nothing but contrasting respect with

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disrespect, yet they never knew that they had not attained any principle, no matter how severe and serious they were. (Dai 1991: 214; Zheng 2015a: 434)

According to Dai Zhen, the reason why Neo-Confucians advocate eliminating desires lies in their dichotomy of moral principle and desires, which is formulated by Dai Zhen in the sentence, “what does not issue from principle issues from desire (yu 欲), and what does not issue from desire issues from principle” (Chan 1963: 713; Dai 1991: 159, 204, 209). However, Dai Zhen misunderstood the doctrine of Zhu Xi because for almost all Song–Ming Neo-Confucians, the term “yu” in this context does not refer to desires in general, but only to “unethical desires.” The pair of technical terms, li 理 and yu 欲, is an abbreviation for the pair Zhu Xi promoted, tian li 天理 (principle of Heaven) and renyu 人欲 (desires of humans), as found in the chapter entitled “Yueji 樂記” (“Record of Music”) in the Liji 禮記 (The Book of Rites). For Song–Ming Neo-Confucianism, yu as “natural and necessary desires” is neutral, while renyu and the yu contrasted with li refer only to “unethical desires” and so are always employed as pejorative. Nevertheless, in the course of ethical self-­ cultivation, sometimes even natural and non-ethical desires could be considered to be distractions for one who wishes to concentrate one’s mind on higher matters. In this sense, Neo-Confucians sometimes spoke negatively of yu (“desire” in general, including natural desires and non-ethical desires) as if they were obstacles to attaining an insight into li. None of these usages of yu suggest that desire in general should be eliminated. However, Dai Zhen is not alone in this misunderstanding of Song– Ming Neo-Confucianism. In the Ming–Qing transitional period, scholars such as Wang Fuzhi also criticized the Song–Ming Neo-Confucian li–yu dichotomy, and held roughly the same positive attitude for justifications of rational satisfactions of desires. Wang Fuzhi says that tian li (principle of Heaven) can only manifest itself when it is embodied in ren yu (desires of humans), and that seeking principles beyond the realm of desires is a Buddhist teaching (Wang F. 1988–1996, vol. 6: 911). Although it is mistaken for Dai Zhen to interpret Zhu Xi’s ethics as asceticism, it is noteworthy that Zhu Xi’s position still differs from Dai Zhen’s. It is argued that Zhu Xi limited the rational satisfaction of desires to the basic level of survival, as Zhu Xi stated, “[to satisfy the desire for] food and drink are Principle of Heaven; to require good taste is desires of humans [renyu, (of negative ethical value)].” (Zhu 1986: [13] 224). However, a human being’s desires in a more developed civilization need not and should not be limited to the basic level (cf. Wu 2004: 312–13). Dai Zhen’s view is relatively open-minded, he stated that “desires, if not selfish, are all in accord with benevolence, rituals and righteousness,”(Dai 1991: 192) which suggests that if one’s satisfying a desire does not harm other people, it is allowed for him/her to do so. This does not mean that any desires, if not harmful to other people, is allowed to run unchecked, but the way of regulating desire is not suppression (which he compares to damming floodwaters), but channeling the desires in more productive ways (cf. Tiwald and Van Norden 2014: 328; Tiwald 2011). Besides Dai Zhen’s criticism of asceticism, another equally significant point in his critique was the claims of Song–Ming Neo-Confucians regarding li (pattern/ principle) as a priori and inherent in the heart-mind. Dai Zhen took this to be ultra-­

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intuitionism. The quotation of Zhu Xi that Dai Zhen often highlighted to prove his point was: “Principle is received from Heaven and is completely embodied in the heart-mind” (Zhu 1986: 2514; Dai 1991: 154, 159, 163–64, 175, 196, 209). Principle therefore resides in the heart-mind “as if there were a thing” distinct from desires and qi (vital energies/material forces). Dai Zhen described this view as follows: If the myriad principles are completely embodied in the heart-mind, then it responds with one principle when one thing happens, and replaces that principle with another when another thing happens, and then one hundred principles, one thousand, ten thousands, one hundred millions. . . . No one knows the end.” (Dai 1991: 205)

Namely, if the “singular” li completely received from Heaven in the heart-mind is the unity of all principles in all things according to Zhu Xi’s notion of li, then all responses of the heart-mind to things are just the direct manifestations of the same li, then there would be no need of further moral reasoning, because one would simply be trusting random intuitions. Dai Zhen concluded, “If li is regarded as a thing received from Heaven and completely embodied in the heart/mind, then there could hardly be one who does not confound it with opinions” (Dai 1991: 155). When this theory becomes a dominant ideology it is dangerous, because it encourages rulers to blindly trust their own opinions (Dai 1991: 224), especially when they believe that once they stifle their own desires they would intuitively discover principles. However, as Dai Zhen pointed out, no matter how righteous and rigorous they might seem, they do not really attain genuine principles. This ultra-intuitionism combined with asceticism was the system Dai Zhen described as “killing people by means of li (principle).” Asceticism as an ideology renders those who are superior in social status insensitive and unsympathetic to the suffering of the common people in lower ranks of society. They tend to impose demanding moral standards on those people. Dai Zhen wrote, It is not surprising, therefore, that those who are presently in the ruling position regard [the way of] the ancient sages and worthies, which is understanding people’s feelings and satisfying their desires, to be [unnecessary involvement with] the daily trivialities of the lowly and the vulgar—certainly not something worthy of their attention. Moreover, when it comes to reproving others on the basis of “principle,” it is easy for them to point out what is considered the highest standard in the vast world and then to condemn others in the name of “righteousness.” (Dai 1991: 161; Chin and Freeman 1990: 84–85)

Even when people in lower ranks of society rightly protest this by appealing to principle, they would be judged as being against principle. When the superiors censure the inferiors on the strength of “principle,” there would be a countless number of crimes from below. When men die because they have violated the law, there are those who have pity for them, but when men die because they have violated principle, who has compassion for them! (Chin and Freeman 1990: 85)

Dai Zhen’s criticism is not entirely fair to Zhu Xi, but he developed from this reflection a new approach to governance by gathering ethical principles from the facts of human emotions and desires. Dai Zhen defined li as the natural principle of distinction that resides in things. In ethics, li lies in preserving qing 情 (fact/human emotions) so that it does not err. Duan Yucai 段玉裁 (1735–1815), one of Dai

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Zhen’s most eminent students, supported Dai Zhen’s claim by his philological analysis. The Chinese character li 理 originally meant “to carve a piece of jade according to its intrinsic veins.” By analogy, in ethics principle lies in the refinement of the distinction intrinsic in the fact of human desires and emotions (Duan 1981: 15–16). This method of supporting philosophical argument with philological analysis has been extensively used by Dai Zhen in his Shuzheng. It is the reason why Jiao Xun 焦循 (1703–1760) admired Shuzheng the most among all of Dai Zhen’s works (Jiao 1936: 240). Although scholars in the movement of Han Studies shared an interest of philology, they were divided as to the issue of whether they accepted the authority of Zhu Xi’s doctrine in ethical life. Jiang Yong 江永 (1681–1762) and Hui Shiqi 惠士奇 (1671–1741), two Han Studies scholars born some decades earlier than Dai Zhen, embraced the ethical doctrines of the Cheng–Zhu doctrines. Duan Yucai admitted the significance of guidance gained from the Cheng–Zhu doctrine of self-cultivation for a Han Studies scholar’s moral life (Qian 1997: 404). There were those, such as Jiang Fan 江藩 (1761–1830), who advocated the method of Han Studies, recorded its genealogy, and disdained Song Studies (the Song–Ming Neo-Confucianism). They were opposed by those who were sympathetic to Zhu Xi’s teaching, such as Fang Dongshu 方東樹 (1772–1851). However, it seems that from Zhu Xi to Dai Zhen, the terminology and discourse initiated by Zhu Xi and his Northern Song masters had undergone all possible transformations, so that their philosophical creativity came gradually to the end. Some of their insights nevertheless continued to inspire modern Confucian philosophers such as Feng Youlan 馮友蘭, Xiong Shili 熊十力, Mou Zongsan 牟宗三, and Tang Junyi 唐君毅, resulting in later expressions of a more sophisticated nomenclature within modern Chinese language under the impact of Sino–Western comparative philosophy.

6 Conclusion This chapter has briefly described and evaluated the later Confucians’ criticisms of Zhu Xi in three stages: (1) Ming Confucians’ criticisms of his way of self-­cultivation and moral psychology (represented by Wang Yangming), (2) Ming–Qing Confucians’ criticisms of his “dualistic” metaphysics of li–qi (represented by Wang Fuzhi), and (3) Dai Zhen and Qing Confucians’ criticisms of Zhu Xi’s ethics and of ideological misuses of Song–Ming Neo-Confucianism. This has only highlighted an outline about each historical period’s highest achievements in neo-Confucian philosophy as is related to Zhu Xi scholarship. It does not mean that there are clear-­ cut stages in the decline of Zhu Xi’s authority in the culture of Neo-Confucian scholar-officials. We can detect the intertwining of these three lines of criticisms in the history of thought from the Song to the Qing. For example, some Ming scholars (such as Cao Duan, who was earlier than Wang Yanming, and Luo Qinshun as a contemporary of Wang) criticized some of Zhu Xi’s doctrines in metaphysics, but followed his way of self-cultivation. Wang Yangming barely showed any interest in

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metaphysical discussions about the li–qi relationship, but criticizes Zhu Xi’s moral psychology relentlessly, while remaining faithful to some aspects of the Song–Ming Neo-Confucian ethos represented by Zhu Xi. For example, Wang supported the distinction between the principle of Heaven and unethical desires. It should also be clarified that this brief overview has focused on the philosophical critiques of Zhu Xi by outstanding intellectuals among the later Neo-Confucians. Beyond this field, the relationship between Zhu Xi’s thought and the majority of later Neo-Confucians can also be studied from such perspectives as its impact on ideology, its responsiveness to social changes, and the creation and development of familial rituals and other norms influenced by the Cheng–Zhu schools. For instance, Dai Zhen’s criticism of the Song–Ming neo-Confucian ethos only found some support among a few scholars, but did not represent the attitude of the majority of his contemporary Confucians. It is very interesting to note that all the thinkers mentioned in this chapter are sometimes regarded as followers of Zhu Xi, no matter how critical they appeared to be towards Zhu Xi’s thought. For instance: (1) Thanks to Zhu Xi’s refinement of Neo-Confucian terminology and his philosophical interpretation of the Great Learning, Wang Yangming developed a moral psychology much more sophisticated than Lu Jiuyuan’s (cf. S. Liu 1995: 566–98). Tang Junyi has observed that Wang Yangming took over Zhu Xi’s philosophical problems and synthesized Zhu Xi’s and Lu Jiuyuan’s thoughts, so that he could not be regarded merely as a follower of Lu Jiuyuan (Tang 1970: 100, 1984: 289–98). (2) Judging from the traditional framework of the contrast between the Cheng–Zhu School and the Lu–Wang School, some scholars even claimed that Wang Fuzhi was a follower of Zhu Xi (cf. Chen L. 2004: 10–14). (3) Dai Zhen’s view that the cultivation of moral virtues depends on empirical knowledge led Yü Ying-shih to conclude that Dai Zhen’s intellectualist spirit is closer to Zhu Xi than to Lu Jiuyuan, because Zhu Xi also attaches great value to empirical learning (cf. Yü 2000: 353). These comments could facilitate a more comprehensive understanding of the relationship between the later Confucians and the traditions associated with Zhu Xi.

References Chan, Wing-tsit. 1963. A Source Book in Chinese Philosophy. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Chen, Chun 陳淳. 1986. Neo-Confucian Terms Explained 北溪字義. Translated by Chan Wing-­ tsit. New York: Columbia University Press. (A concise exposition of the philosophical terms used by the author’s master, Zhu Xi.) Chen, Lai 陳來. 2000. Research on Zhu Xi’s Philosophy 朱子哲學研究. Shanghai 上海: Huadong Shifan Daxue Chubanshe 華東師範大學出版社. (A comprehensive research on Zhu Xi’s philosophy, based on his study of the chronology of Zhu Xi’s text.) ———. 2004. Interpretation and Reconstruction: The Spirit of Wang Chuanshan’s Philosophy 詮 釋與重建:王船山的哲學精神. Beijing 北京: Peking University Press 北京大學出版社. (A study that stresses Wang Fuzhi’s continuation, rather than criticism, of the tradition of Song– Ming Neo-Confucianism.)

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Chen, Xianzhang 陳獻章. 1987. Works of Chen Xianzhang 陳獻章集. Beijing 北京: Zhonghua Shuju 中華書局. Cheng, Chung-yi (Zheng, Zongyi) 鄭宗義. 2000. The Transformation of Confucianism Between Ming and Qing Dynasty: From Liu Jishan to Dai Dongyuan 明清儒學轉型探析:從劉蕺山 到戴東原. Hong Kong 香港: Zhongwen Daxue Chubanshe 中文大學出版社. (A study of the monistic tendency from late Ming to Qing period as a response to the School of Wang Yangming in metaphysics, ethics and methodology of scholarship.) Cheng, Hao 程顥, and Cheng Yi 程頤. 2004. Works of the Two Cheng Brothers 二程集. Beijing 北 京: Zhonghua Shuju 中華書局. Chin, Ann-ping, and Mansfield Freeman, trans. 1990. Tai Chen on Mencius: Explorations in Words and Meanings. New Haven/London: Yale University Press. Dai, Zhen 戴震. 1991. Complete Works of Dai Zhen 戴震全集, vol. 1. Beijing 北京: Tsinghua University Press 清華大學出版社. de Bary, Wm. Theodore, and Irene Bloom, eds. 1999. Sources of Chinese Tradition. 2nd edition. New York: Columbia University Press. Duan, Yucai 段玉裁. 1981. Commentary on Explication of Written Characters 說文解字注. Shanghai 上海: Shanghai Guji Chubanshe 上海古籍出版社. (An extremely important classic for the etymological study of Chinese characters.) Hou, Wailu 侯外廬, Qiu Hansheng 邱漢生, and Zhang Qizhi 張豈之, eds. 1984. A History of Song–Ming Neo-Confucianism. Beijing 北京: Renmen Chubanshe 人民出版社. (A detailed study of the whole span of the history of later Confucianism by a group of scholars lead by Hou Wailu, who represented the approach of research on Neo-Confucianism from the perspective of Marxist historical materialism.) Huang, Yong. 2017. “Knowing-that, Knowing-how, or Knowing-to?: Wang Yangming’s Conception of Moral Knowledge (Liangzhi).” Journal of Philosophical Research 42: 65–94. Huang, Zongxi 黃宗羲. 1985. Scholarly Records of Ming Confucians 明儒學案. Beijing 北京: Zhonghua Shuju 中華書局. ———. 1992. Scholarly Records of Song–Yuan Confucians (Part IV) 宋元學案(四). In Complete Works of Huang Zongxi (6 vols.) 黃宗羲全集(第六冊). Hangzhou 杭州: Zhejiang Guji Chubanshe 浙江古籍出版社. Jiao, Xun 焦循. 1936. Collected Works of Jiao Xun 雕菰集. Shanghai 上海: Shangwu Yinshuguan 商務印書館. Li, Zhi 李贄. 2000. Collected Works of Li Zhi 李贄文集. Beijing 北京: Shehui Kexue Wenxian Chubanshe 社會科學文獻出版社. Liu, Jeeloo. 2010. “Wang Fuzhi’s Philosophy of Principle (Li) Inherent in Qi,” In John Makeham, ed., Dao Companion to Neo-Confucian Philosophy (355–380). Dordrecht: Springer. Liu, Shu-hsien 劉述先. 1986. A Study of Huang Zongxi’s Learning of the Heart/mind 黃宗羲 心學的定位. Taipei 臺北: Yunchen Wenhua Gongsi 允晨文化公司. (A research on Huang Zongxi that treats him as a follower of Wang Yangming, and as the last master of Song–Ming Neo-Confucianism.) ———. 1995. The Development and Completion of Zhu Xi’s Philosophical Thought 朱子哲學思 想的發展與完成. Taipei 臺北: Taiwan Xuesheng Shuju 臺灣學生書局. (A detailed research on the development of Zhu Xi’s thought, drawing on Mou Zongsan’s philosophical insight and Qian Mu’s chronological study of Zhu Xi.) Lu, Jiuyuan. 1980. Works of Lu Jiuyuan 陸九淵集. Beijing北京: Zhonghua Shuju 中華書局. Luo, Qinshun 羅欽順. 1990. Knowledge Painfully Acquired 困知記. Beijing 北京: Zhonghua Shuju 中華書局. Mou, Zongsan 牟宗三. 1968. Metaphysical Mind and Metaphysical Nature 心體與性體. Taipei 臺 北: Zhengzhong Shuju 正中書局. (An influential research on Neo-Confucianism from Zhou Dunyi to Zhu Xi, famous both for his comparative study between Kant and Confucianism, and for his uncharitable critique of Zhu Xi’s alleged distortion of the philosophical spirit of Mencius and his Northern Song masters.)

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Qian, Mu 錢穆. 1994. New Learning Record of Zhu Xi 朱子新學案. Taipei 臺北: Lianjing Chuban Shiye Gongsi 聯經出版事業公司. (A research on Zhu Xi with extensive quotations of Zhu Xi’s text sorted by topics and key terms.) ———. 1997. A History of Chinese Scholarship of the Last Three Hundred Years 中國近三百年 學術史. Beijing 北京: Shangwu Yinshuguan 商務印書館. (An influential research on the intellectual history from late Ming to late Qing period, very useful for scholars who are interested in the relationships and interactions among neo-Confucians and their intellectual background.) ———. 1998. An Outline of Song–Ming Neo-Confucianism 宋明理學概述. Taipei 臺北: Lianjing Chuban Shiye Gongsi 聯經出版事業公司. (A very concise introduction to Song–Ming Neo-Confucianism.) Shu, Jingnan 束景南. 2003. Biography of Master Zhu 朱子大傳. Beijing 北京: Shangwu Yinshuguan 商務印書館. (the most comprehensive and detailed biography of Zhu Xi, drawing not only on the text of traditional compilation of Zhu Xi’s work, but also on historical local records, clarifying a number of misunderstandings.) Tang Chun-i (Tang, Junyi) 唐君毅. 1970. “The Development of the Concept of Moral Mind from Wang Yang-ming to Wang Chi.” In Wm. Theodore de Bary, ed., Self and Society in Ming Thought (93–119). New York/London: Columbia University Press. ———. 1984. On Chinese Philosophy: Tracing Teaching to its Source 中國哲學原論:原教篇. Taipei臺北: Xuesheng shuju 學生書局. (a research on the history of Neo-Confucian thought from early Song to Qing. Compared with Mou’s harsh criticism of Zhu, Tang’s interpretation of Zhu is much more sympathetic and faithful to him. Among other similar books on this history, this book is perhaps one of the most profound in philosophical insight.) Tillman, Hoyt C. 1992. Confucian Discourse and Chu Hsi’s Ascendancy. Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press. (An important monograph that must be consulted for anyone who are interested in Zhu Xi’s contemporaries and their interaction with Zhu Xi.) Tiwald, Justin. 2011. “Dai Zhen’s Defense of Self-interest.” Journal of Chinese Philosophy, Supplement to 38: 29–45. Tiwald, Justin, and Bryan W. Van Norden, eds. 2014. Readings in Later Chinese Philosophy: Han Dynasty to the 20th Century, Indianapolis/Cambridge: Hackett Publishing Company. Wang, Fuzhi 王夫之. 1988–1996. Complete Works of Chuanshan (Wang Fuzhi) 船山全書. Changsha 長沙: Yuelu Shushe 岳麓書社. Wang, Yangming 王陽明. 1963. Instructions for Practical Living and Other Neo-Confucian Writings. Translated and Edited by Chan Wing-tsit. New York/London, Columbia University Press. ———. 2010. Complete Works of Wang Yangming 王陽明全集. Hangzhou 杭州: Zhejiang Guji Chubanshe 浙江古籍出版社. ———. 2011. Complete Works of Wang Yangming 王陽明全集. Shanghai 上海: Shanghai Guji Chubanshe 上海古籍出版社. Wu, Genyou 吳根友. 2004. The Genesis of the Modern Views of Values in China: from Li Zhi to Dai Zhen 中國現代價值觀的初生歷程——從李贄到戴震. Wuhan 武漢: Wuhan Daxue Chubanshe 武漢大學出版社. (A research on the emergence of new values in Ming–Qing period in China, which could serve as a foundation for China to embrace some key values of modernization.) Xiao, Jiefu 蕭萐父, and Xu Sumin 許蘇民. 2002. Critical Biography of Wang Fuzhi 王夫之評傳. Nanjing 南京: Nanjing University Press 南京大學出版社. (This is not just a biography, but also a systematic research on Wang Fuzhi’s philosophy.) Xue, Xuan 薛瑄. 2015. Reading Notes of Master Xue Wenqing 薛文清公讀書錄. In Complete Works of Xue Xuan 薛瑄全集. Taiyuan 太原: Sanjin Chubanshe 三晉出版社. Yan, Yuan 顏元. 1987. Works of Yan Yuan 顏元集. Beijing 北京: Zhonghua Shuju 中華書局 Yü, Ying-shih 余英時. 2000. On Dai Zhen and Zhang Xuecheng 論戴震與章學誠. Beijing 北京: Sanlian Shudian 三聯書店. (A research that especially focuses on Dai’s and Zhang’s methodologies and their self-images as Confucian scholars.)

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Zhang, Dainian 張岱年. 1978a. “On Zhang Zai’s Thoughts and Works” 關於張載的思想和著作. In Works of Zhang Zai 張載集 (1–18). (A materialist interpretation of Zhang Zai.) Zhang, Xuezhi 張學智. 2000. History of Philosophy in the Ming Dynasty 明代哲學史. Beijing 北京: Beijing Daxue Chubanshe 北京大學出版社. (A systematic research on this history that provides readers with both a good overview of this history and detailed explications of each thinkers.) Zhang, Zai 張載. 1978b. Works of Zhang Zai 張載集. Beijing 北京: Zhonghua Shuju 中華書局. Zheng, Zemian. 2015a. “Dai Zhen’s Criticism and Misunderstanding of Zhu Xi’s Moral Theory.” Dao: A Journal of Comparative Philosophy 14: 433–449. ———. 2015b. “Self-Deception, Sincerity (Cheng), and Zhu Xi’s Last Word.” International Philosophical Quarterly 55.3:219–236. ———. 2018. “An Alternative Way of Confucian Sincerity: Wang Yangming’s ‘Unity of Knowing and Doing’ as a Response to Zhu Xi’s Puzzle of Self-Deception.” Philosophy East and West, 68(4): 1345–1368. (this paper, together with the previous paper on Zhu Xi’s view of self-­ deception, presents a new story to explain the transition of Neo-Confucianism from Zhu Xi to Wang Yangming, a story that focuses on the question of how sincerity is possible.) Zhu, Xi 朱熹. 1983. Commentary on the Four Books 四書章句集注. Beijing 北京: Zhonghua Shuju 中華書局. ———. 1986. Classified Conversations of Zhu Xi 朱子語類. Beijing 北京: Zhonghua Shuju 中 華書局. ———. 2002. Complete Works of Master Zhu 朱子全書. Shanghai 上海: Anhui Jiaoyu Chubanshe 安徽教育出版社 and Shanghai Guji Chubanshe 上海古籍出版社. Zemian Zheng is an assistant professor at the Department of Philosophy, The Chinese University of Hong Kong. He previously served as associate professor at the School of Philosophy, Wuhan University, and as postdoctoral research fellow at Freie Universität Berlin, Dahlem Humanities Center (Berlin, Germany). He publishes in the areas of Confucianism and Taoism in Chinese philosophy, ethics, and comparative philosophy.  

Chapter 11

Zhu Xi and Contemporary New Confucians: Reflections on Mou Zongsan’s and Tang Junyi’s Interpretations Cho-hon Yang and Ko-chu Lai

1 Introduction Scholars have different views on Zhu Xi’s moral philosophy based on their own interpretive approaches. This chapter suggests one particular approach to understand and reinterpret Zhu Xi’s core concepts related to moral practice. We focus, in particular, on clarifying the relationship between mind (xin 心) and moral principle(s) (li 理) in accordance with his original texts. On the basis of our interpretations of the original texts, we will address some controversial issues derived from various modern interpretative approaches to Zhu Xi’s studies. With regard to contemporary interpretations of Zhu Xi’s philosophy, Feng Youlan 馮友蘭 (1895–1990), Qian Mu 錢穆 (1895–1990), Chan Wing-tsit 陳榮捷 (1901–1994), Lao Sze-kwang 勞思光 (1927–2012), Mou Zongsan 牟宗三 (1909– 1995),1 and Tang Junyi 唐君毅 (1909–1978) are among the most important scholars offering significant contributions. Each of their different interpretive approaches not only expands subsequent researchers’ thoughts, but enables them 1  Most of Mou’s students, such as Cai Renhou 蔡仁厚, Lee Shui Chuen 李瑞全, Lee Ming-huei 李明輝, and Lin Yueh-hui 林月惠, followed his interpretations of Zhu Xi’s philosophy. As a student of Mou, I (Yang Cho-hon 楊祖漢), generally agree with Mou, but I find that clarification of the relationship between mind and moral principle is worthy of reconsideration. My coauthor and I will discuss the difference between Mou’s interpretations and ours in Sects. 3 and 4.

C.-h. Yang Department of Chinese Literature and Graduate Institute of Philosophy, National Central University, Taoyuan, Taiwan, Republic of China e-mail: [email protected] K.-c. Lai (*) Department of Chinese Literature, National Chung Cheng University, Chiayi County, Taiwan, Republic of China e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2020 K.-c. Ng, Y. Huang (eds.), Dao Companion to ZHU Xi’s Philosophy, Dao Companions to Chinese Philosophy 13, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-29175-4_11

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to tackle Zhu Xi’s philosophy from different aspects. Obviously, each of these interpretations raises various arguments. For example, in relation to whether Zhu Xi can be included in the “Confucian orthodoxy” (daotong 道統), the answer of Qian Mu (Qian 2011: 1) and Chan Wing-tsit (Chan 1988: 13) is positive. Nevertheless, Lao Sze-kwang (Lao 2001: 315) and Mou Zongsan (Mou 1968–1969, vol. 1: 17, 45, 49–50, 59) disagree on the basis of their assessments of orthodoxy. In terms of clarifying the relationship between principle (li) and vital force (qi 氣), the claim that “principle has priority over vital force” (li xian qi hou 理先氣後) is the consensus among academia investigating Neo-Confucianism. However, differences arise in how one defines the meaning of priority (xian 先). Feng claims that it refers to “logical priority” (Feng 2001: 188), whereas Tang suggests that it should be “metaphysical priority,” with which Mou agrees. We will examine which of these scholars’ understanding is more reasonable in the following section. In this chapter, we intend to focus our discussion on interpretations of Zhu Xi’s claims made by Mou and Tang. We do so because their interpretations are constructed on the basis of precise philosophical analyses and the study of many texts.2 Another factor is the well-affected historical fact of their great influence on modern scholars of Sinophone and Anglophone academia in the twentieth and twenty-first centuries. Although Tang and Mou shared some perspectives on Zhu’s philosophy, their understandings of the core idea in Zhu’s moral theory, “how mind and moral principle(s) are related,” are quite different. Based on our own research, we find that Tang’s interpretations better conform to Zhu’s original claims. The issues concerning “how mind and moral principle(s) are related” will be addressed in the following manner. In Sect. 2, we will introduce the main interpretations of Mou and Tang regarding Zhu’s moral philosophy. In Sect. 3, we will provide a brief sketch of Cheng Yi’s 程頤 (1033–1107) moral theory, having great influence on the development of Zhu Xi’s (1130–1200) philosophy. Based on these discussions, we will rely on Zhu’s original texts to respond to Mou’s interpretation in Sect. 4, and use Tang’s perspective to address the idea of “priority in reflecting on moral principle(s)” (zhuli 主理), to see whether it can interpret Zhu’s moral theory in a more reasonable manner. Finally, we offer our conclusions.

2 Mou Zongsan’s and Tang Junyi’s Interpretations of Zhu Xi’s Moral Philosophy 2.1 Mou Zongsan’s Interpretations Mou Zongsan is well-known for considering Zhu Xi’s philosophy to be beyond the limits of the “Confucian orthodoxy,” based on Mou’s study of Confucius’ and Mencius’ core moral concepts. Mou indicates that “Zhu inherited another tradition which derived from Cheng Yi, and so turned it into an alternative Confucian 2  We can see Mou’s discussion of Zhu Xi’s philosophy in Mou (1968–1969, vol. 1 and 2) and Mou (2000). With regard to Tang Junyi’s books, see Tang (1973, 1984, 1989).

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orthodoxy” (bie zi wei zong 別子為宗) (Mou 1968–1969, vol. 1: 19). We paraphrase Mou’s important interpretations on Zhu Xi’s account of various aspects of moral philosophy as follows: 1. The mind in Zhu Xi’s moral theory is merely a cognitive mind and not a moral mind which legislates universal moral laws (Mou 1968–1969, vol. 2: 243–44). 2. Mou claims that, for Zhu, “moral principles are external, and they are cognitive objects of mind. This kind of understanding frames mind and moral principle(s) in relationship of subject-and-object. This regards “mind and moral principle(s) as two entities” (xin li wei er 心理為二). Moral principle is the “ontological reality” (cunyoulun de shiyou 存有論的實有), and hence a metaphysical entity. Mind is merely an empirical cognitive mind and is not a metaphysical entity” (Mou 2000: 9–10). 3. Because mind in Zhu’s moral theory possesses no inward moral principle(s) (Mou 1968–1969, vol. 1: 40), it is not the source of moral motivation. Consequently, Zhu’s moral cultivation, based on “investigating moral principles of things” (gewu zhizhi 格物致知), is an activity that aims at grasping the meaning of moral principles through cognitions including empirical learning. Therefore, moral cultivation makes cognitive moral knowledge become the standard of mind to conduct moral judgments. Mou regards this account of moral cultivation as a type of horizontal cognitive activity, naming it “the horizontal model of moral cultivation” (hengshe 橫攝工夫) (Mou 1968–1969, vol. 1: 59; 2003a: 103; also see Leung 2017). However, we may all agree that there is a gap between knowing and acting. Knowledge of “what an agent morally ought to do” acquired by cognition does not necessarily motivate us to fulfill the moral command(s). For this reason, Mou did not confirm the concept of investigating moral principle(s) of things as an essential part of moral cultivation, but regarded it as only an auxiliary aspect of cultivation for becoming a virtuous person. In Mou’s thinking, an essential aspect of moral cultivation must be based upon a “vertical model” (zongguan xingtai 縱貫型態) (Mou 1968–1969, vol. 1: 59). We will discuss the concept of his vertical model of moral cultivation in Sect. 4. 4. Because Zhu regards “mind and moral principle(s) as two (entities),” indicating mind is not the source of moral principles, the moral theory of Zhu is not ascribed to the ethics of “autonomy,” but is categorized as an ethics of “heteronomy.” 5. Relying on precepts described in (3), since mind is not the source of moral motivation, Zhu’s alternative model of “moral cultivation” aims at “stabilizing the mind in the state of calmness, attentiveness and reasonableness” (chijing 持敬). This model of cultivation is “void of the source of moral motivation (kongtou hanyang 空頭涵養) (Mou 1968–1969, vol. 2: 185), and so it cannot be considered as an essential part of moral cultivation, but merely an auxiliary one. If, as Mou claims, neither investigating principles of things nor stabilizing the mind in the state of calmness, attentiveness and reasonableness are essential for becoming a sage, then there is a decisive flaw in Zhu’s theory of moral cultivation. His approach makes it impossible for anyone to become a sage. Assuming Mou is

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correct, the following claim by Zhu would no longer be valid: “There is a broad and bright way to enter the ‘gate of sageliness’ (shengmen 聖門). . . . The ways of cultivation for becoming a sage are jujing 居敬 and qiongli 窮理”3(Zhu 1986: [28] 720). Since becoming a sage is the ultimate goal for moral self-cultivation in Zhu’s moral philosophy, to examine whether Zhu’s theory of investigating moral principle(s) of things is reasonable and offers feasible ways for achieving moral cultivation are both significant and necessary. “Appealing to mind’s inward moral standards to make moral judgments” (yi nei 義 內) is an essential consensus derived from the Confucius–Mencius tradition. Zhu Xi is one of the advocates of this principle. Nevertheless, assuming that our previous account of Mou’s paraphrase (2) is correct, in particular that of his characterization of Zhu’s claim that the mind and moral principle(s) are two separate entities, then Zhu would have no reason a priori to criticize Gaozi’s claim that “the standard of moral judgment is external” (yi wai 義外),4 because the assumption that mind and moral principle(s) are two separate things leads to making the standard of moral judgment external. Therefore, to examine whether Zhu’s moral theory is coherent from this perspective is worthy of clarification. We will examine this difference in Sect. 4.

2.2 Tang Junyi’s Interpretations In Tang’s essay, “Clarification and Explanation of Zhu Xi’s Theory that Principle has Priority over Vital Force” (Zhu zi li xian qi hou shu shi 朱子理先氣後論疏釋), Tang Junyi indicates that in Neo-Confucianism, the term principle equally refers to the “normative principle” (dangran zhi li 當然之理) and the “principle of existence” (cunzai zhi li 存在之理).5 Normative principle possesses moral meaning, while the principle of existence is the ground of all beings. Tang’s essay is a response to Feng Youlan’s interpretation of “the priority of the principle over vital force.” Feng had explained the relationship between principle and vital force by means of analogies of the “root and branch” (ben mo 本末) and “the secondary and the primary” (qing zhong 輕重). Feng claimed: “Principle is the root, and vital force is a branch. . . . Principle is the primary, and vital force is the secondary. The root and the primary have priority over the branch and the secondary. Therefore, priority in this sense is logical priority” (Feng 2001: 188). Clearly, Feng interpreted Zhu’s term priority as a “logical priority”.  In this chapter Jujing and qiongli have the meaning of stabilizing the mind in the state of calmness, attentiveness and reasonableness and investigating moral principle(s) of things respectively. 4  Zhu criticizes that: “Gao Zi does not understand thoroughly. If he did, he would appeal to his inward moral principles to make moral judgments” (Zhu 1986: [52] 1236). 5  This essay is included in the appendix of Tang (1973: [3]). The title of this essay is changed into “On Normative Principle and the Principle of Existence: Zhuzi on the Priority of the Principle over the Vital Force.” 3

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Unlike Feng, Tang regarded priority to mean a “metaphysical priority.” He explained: It is not appropriate to use the term “temporal priority,” “psychological cognitive priority,” “epistemic priority,” or “logical priority” to interpret Zhu Xi’s claim that “principle having priority over vital force.” According to Zhu’s original texts, the term priority, means “metaphysical priority.” For contemporary scholars, “metaphysical priority” has the meaning that principle is “reality” (zhenshi 真實). In this sense, vital force can only exist if relying on the metaphysical reality of principle. (Tang 1973: [3] 450)6

Tang recognized the reality of principle and regarded it as the ground of existence of things. Therefore, to interpret Zhu’s term priority as “logical priority” is not appropriate. Before adhering to whether Tang or Feng’s interpretation is consistent with Zhu’s thought, let us first consider how Zhu explained the relationship between principle and vital force: “With principle, there is heaven and earth; without principle, there is nothing. . . . With principle, the vital force’s functioning and circulations are possible, and so things come into existence” (Zhu 1986: [1] 1). Vital force, which can be understood as a myriad of things, is real; it is by means of vital force that myriads of things become factual. If principle is not a reality, how does it become the ground for beings to exist? Conceptually, we find Mou agreeing with Tang. The one that possesses logical priority is not necessarily real. However, because principle is the ground to make all beings’ specific existences possible, it must be a reality (Mou 2003b: 10). Yet, as already mentioned above, Feng’s interpretation of principle’s priority not only ignores the reality of principle, but also its practical significance. Based on his interpretation, principle is merely a presumption, not related to reality. Therefore, Feng’s view of “the principle possessing logical priority over vital force” is not entirely consistent with Zhu’s understanding of how principle and the vital force are related. In this sense, we adhere to Tang and Mou’s approach confirming that principle possesses “metaphysical priority” over vital force. As previously described, Mou claimed that Zhu’s investigating moral principle(s) of things is not an essential moral cultivation. However, we find that Tang’s perspectives may offer a way of responding to Mou’s claim. We paraphrase Tang’s perspectives in the following paragraphs (Tang 1973: [3] 1432): 1. In the process of moral reflection on moral principle(s), one will endorse the reality of moral principle(s) along with the elevation of one’s understanding of morality. 2. The endorsement of the reality of moral principle(s), relying on a thorough understanding of morality, will motivate us to fulfill moral commands for the sake of morality itself.

 Tang’s “reality” (zhenshi 真實) has the same meaning as Mou’s “ontological reality” (cunyoulun de shiyou 存有論的實有). From this we can see why Tang and Mou share the perspective that the meaning of the term, priority (xian 先) is a “metaphysical priority.” 6

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3. Our mind will approach moral principle(s) and commits to it/them as reality. Finally, the relationship between mind and moral principle(s) can be consequently unified. Tang asserted that once real moral consciousness arises, it will motivate us to pursue moral practice, as long as we grasp the real meaning of morality. Therefore, he regarded (1), (2), and (3) as “supporting one another and approaching perfection together” (xiangchi gongzhang 相持共長) (Tang 1973: [3] 1432).

3 Cheng Yi’s Moral Theory Cheng Yi had a strict moral consciousness. He believed that one’s moral acts must be in accordance with moral principle(s) unconditionally, and not be dominated by one’s selfish desires or considerations of non-moral benefits. This is similar to what the German philosopher Immanuel Kant (1724–1804), argued: one’s will should be directly determined by the moral law. In terms of moral practice, Cheng asserted that “virtuous knowledge” (dexing zhizhi 德性之知) is not derived from “what we see or hear” (wenjian聞見) (Cheng and Cheng 2004: [25] 317). This means that the virtuous knowledge does not come from empirical learning. Instead it originated from one’s own rational knowledge. However, Cheng claimed that in order to fulfill faithfully commands stemming from one’s moral judgments (that is to act only for the sake of the command of moral principle(s), or in other words, that one’s will is directly determined by moral principle(s)), one has to elevate the “ordinary rational understanding of morality” (changzhi 常知) to a level of a “philosophically rational understanding of morality” (zhenzhi 真知). Once the level of philosophical rational understanding of morality is reached, it will necessarily lead to a commitment to act on the basis of moral commands, and to earnestly reject wrong doing. Cheng justified this claim by reference to Confucius: “one acts ‘like touching boiled water while witnessing someone’s behavior being morally wrong’” (Chen and Cheng 2004: [15] 147). In our view, Cheng’s observation on elevating the understanding of morality from the state of “ordinary rational understanding of morality” to “philosophically rational understanding of morality” (Yang 2011: 188–93), resembles what Kant discussed in his Groundwork of the Metaphysic of Morals. In this book, Kant specifically described a “passage from ordinary rational knowledge of morality to philosophical” (Kant 1964: 61). For Kant, the passage is indeed necessary to one’s moral practice: In studying the moral knowledge of ordinary human reason we have now arrived at its first principle. This principle it admittedly does not conceive thus abstractly in its universal form; but it does always have it actually before its eyes and does use it as a norm of judgment. It would be easy to show here how human reason, with this compass in hand, is well able to distinguish, in all cases that present themselves, what is good or evil, right or wrong—provided that, without the least attempt to teach it anything new, we merely make reason attend, as Socrates did, to its own principle; and how in consequence there is no need of science or philosophy for knowing what man has to do in order to be honest and good, and indeed to be wise and virtuous. (Kant 1964: 71–72)

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It seems that, according to Kant, moral practice does not necessarily rely on philosophical thinking, but one can follow the compass of human reason. Nevertheless, a few lines later, he says: Might I not then be more advisable in moral questions to abide by the judgement of ordinary reason and, at the most, to bring in philosophy only in order to set forth the system of morals more fully and intelligibly and to present its rules in a form more convenient for us (though still more so for disputation)—but not in order to lead ordinary human intelligence away from its happy simplicity in respect of action and to set it by means of philosophy on a new path of enquiry and instruction? (Kant 1964: 72)

Kant valued highly philosophical thinking in its relationship to moral practice. It is not merely to satisfy speculative interests. The reason why Kant thought moral practice needed philosophy is to overcome what he called the “natural dialectic” (Yang 2011: 182–85): Innocence is a splendid thing, only it has the misfortune not to keep very well and to be easily misled. On this account even wisdom—which in itself consists more in doing and not doing than in knowing—does require science as well, not in order to learn from it, but in order to win acceptance and durability for its own prescriptions.

Analogically, innocence is one’s ordinary rational understanding of morality, which serves as a guidance for one’s right conduct. However, innocence/ordinary rational understanding of morality is easily intervened by one’s desires or dispositions, so that one might doubt the purity of moral principle(s). This is a practical issue. Kant further illustrated this problem in the following manner: Man feels in himself a powerful counterweight to all the commands of duty presented to him by reason as so worthy of esteem—the counterweight of his needs and inclinations, whose total satisfaction he grasps under the nature of ‘happiness.’ But reason, without promising anything to inclination, enjoins its commands relentlessly, and therefore, so to speak, with disregard and neglect of these turbulent and seemingly equitable claims (which refuse to be suppressed by any command). From this there arises a natural dialectic—that is, a disposition to quibble with these strict laws of duty, to throw doubt on their validity or at least on their purity and strictness, and to make them, where possible, more adapted to our wishes and inclinations; that is, to pervert their very foundations and destroy their whole dignity—a result which in the end even ordinary human reason is unable to approve. (Kant 1964: 72–73)

In order to tackle the problem of the “natural dialectic,” Kant thought that it was necessary to have the aid of philosophical analysis. In a similar way, in Cheng’s theory one has to engage in “reflecting upon the universality of moral principle(s) in concrete events, and thereby grasping its meaning in universality,” which is the more profound meaning of investigating moral principle(s) of things. Cheng regarded “Investigating moral principle(s)” as a kind of philosophical thinking. Therefore, Cheng suggests that, through investigating moral principle(s) of things, an agent has to engage in elevating his practical understanding of morality from the state of “ordinary rationality” to “philosophical rationality” in order to avoid being bridled by selfish desires so that one can act morally without inconsistency. We can see that Cheng confirmed philosophical analysis or thinking as having advantageous effect upon moral practice. The following passages can be seen as one example illustrating Cheng’s philosophical thinking on principle: “The continuous

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movement of yin 陰 and yang 陽 shows Dao, but Dao is not yin and yang. Dao is the ground of the movement of yin and yang” (Cheng and Cheng 2004: [3] 67). Principle can be understood through the relation between Dao and the movement of yin and yang. Cheng shows that both yin and yang are vital forces; what makes the movements of vital force possible is dao. Dao is the ground of vital force’s movements, and the movement is not dao. This is a kind of analytic expression. Cheng’s interpretation on the sentence (yi yin yi yang zhi wei dao 一陰一陽之謂道) expresses his method of philosophical thinking. Cheng’s philosophical analysis distinguished moral commands from desires, inclinations, or emotions. Recognizing this difference can promote people to focus on reflecting on what they morally ought to do. In Cheng’s mind, philosophical analysis of morality is necessary in order to understand fully that practicing moral commands is not for the sake of acquiring some personal interests or profits. The ultimate purpose of philosophical analysis of morality is to help constitute one own moral identity in the light of a complete understanding of the meaning of morality (Lai 2016: 62). An agent whose moral identity is self-constituted in this way will definitely act in accordance with moral principle(s), and can resist the domination of desires. Moral identity, if constituted on the basis of such strict analysis on morality, can overcome the natural dialectic Kant wrote about.7 In other words, an agent can reject not only the seducement of desires, but also “a disposition to quibble with these strict laws of duty, to throw doubt on their validity or at least on their purity and strictness,” as Kant argued in the quotation cited above. Nevertheless, it is questionable whether an agent would comply with the moral command, without choosing to satisfy one’s own desires in absence of any philosophical reflection on morality. In this regard, we should admit that for an agent to become a virtuous person, “reflecting upon the universality of moral principle(s) in concrete events, and thereby grasping its meaning in universality” is necessary. Here we will now briefly sum up the following characteristics regarding Cheng’s moral theory. (1) Ordinary rational understanding of morality in one’s mind must be elevated to philosophically rational thinking. (2) The quintessence of investigating moral principle(s) of things is a philosophical reflection upon morality or philosophical analysis of morality. (3) Moral principle(s) are abstracted from concrete events and their universal meanings are grasped in practice. (4) When the true meaning of morality is fully understood, one’s moral identity becomes self-­ constituted. One resists the “natural dialectic” and is against the domination of one’s selfish desires or personal gains. Consequently, the agent autonomously complies with the dictates of moral principle(s). According to these characteristics, we believe that Cheng’s theory of investigating moral principle(s) of things is an indispensable method for moral practice. So now we bring Mou into the conversation. We suggest that for an agent to cultivate  When Zhu Xi discusses the relation between “elevating one’s own moral knowledge” (zhizhi 致 知) and “purifying one’s own motivation” (chengyi 誠意), his concern centers on how to respond to the question of the “natural dialectic.” More explanation in details below. 7

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oneself into a virtuous person, the theory of investigating moral principle(s) of things and Mou’s moral practice of “reflexively awakening oneself to the moral consciousness of one’s conscience” (nijue tizheng 逆覺體證) (Mou 1968–1969, vol. 1: 46) are equivalently important. There is no need to distinguish the primary/ essential and secondary/auxiliary between the two.

4 The “Model of Priority in Reflecting on Moral Principle(s)” (zhulixingtai 主理型態) in Interpreting Zhu Xi’s Moral Philosophy In accordance with the model of his version of the “Great Learning (Daxue 大學),” Zhu Xi claimed that the foremost way of fully understanding the practical meaning of morality relied on investigating moral principle(s) of things, and after that we could purify our intentions so that one might focus only on practicing moral dictates. Zhu shared the same idea with Cheng Yi regarding ordinary rational understanding of morality as the starting point of investigating moral principle(s) of things. We can find this idea in An Additional Remark of “Gezhi in the Great Learning” (Daxue Gezhi Buzhuan 大學格致補傳). There Zhu explained: One ought to further exhaust the moral principle(s) that one already knows in order to reach its/their ultimate. Exerting themselves in this manner for a long time, they will one day suddenly become all penetrating; this being the case,8 no aspect of the things, the shallow and the profound, the precise and the vague, is left out, and no aspect of mind’s functions is not luminous. (Zhu 1983: 7)9

If we examine this text in a moral context, “the moral principle(s) that one already knows” equals “one’s inward understanding of morality,” and “to reach its/their ultimate” means “grasping the true meaning of morality.” When reaching the ultimate, one’s mind is “luminous,” meaning moral judgment can correctly respond to the moral event one is in. In this sense, mind has both an inward rational understanding of morality and the faculty of understanding moral principle(s) in Zhu Xi’s moral philosophy. This also shows that Zhu Xi and Cheng Yi share similar concepts of the mind: our rational understanding of morality is not acquired from empirical learning, but a fact of reason.

 We quote the translation from Daniel K. Gardner in italic (Gardner 2007: 8).  We appreciate and adopt most of professor Huang Yong’s suggestion and advice on this translation. We also provide Daniel K. Gardner’s translation as follows: “. . . the first step of instruction in the Great Learning teaches students that, encountering anything at all in the world, they must build on what they already know of principle and probe still deeper, until they reach its limit. Exerting themselves in this manner for a long time, they will one day suddenly become all penetrating; this being the case, the manifest and the hidden, the subtle and the obvious qualities of all things will all be known, and the mind, in its whole substance and vast operations, will be completely illuminated” (Gardner 2007: 8). 8 9

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In the following texts of Zhu’s moral theory, we directly observe that one’s mind possesses inward moral principle(s) rather than acquires it/them cognitively from external things: Based on the fact that our mind has inward moral principle(s), we can judge what is morally-­ought-to-do or morally-ought-not-to-do. Our inward standard of moral judgment is not dictated by external things. (Zhu 1986: [62] 1590) When one encounters an event that is against righteousness, one’s shame and evil-abhorring arise. That is because one possesses inward normative principle(s). (Zhu 1986: [22] 812) The moral principle(s) that we have is/are inward, which is/are not acquired from the external. (Zhu 1986: [17] 382)

Relying on these three original texts, we can know that: (1) Zhu Xi emphasized that the criteria of moral judgment which the mind had were not acquired from external or empirical experiences. According to Zhu’s moral doctrine, the standard of moral judgment is formed inside the mind. In this sense, (2) Zhu Xi claimed that an agent can judge what is morally-ought-to-do or morally-ought-not-to-do based on his/her inward criteria of moral judgment. “That mind possesses moral principle(s)” (xin ju li 心具理) is Zhu’s basic claim. However, the word, ju 具, has ambiguity and can be interpreted as “to acquire cognitively” or “to possess inward.” Mou’s interpretation is the former; ours is the latter. Based on our interpretation of these three original texts form Zhu, we are justified in interpreting the word ju as “possessing inward” (benju 本具) in opposition to “acquiring cognitively” as used in an epistemic sense. With Zhu Xi’s terminology, we can use “mind possessing the inward moral principle(s)”(xin benju li 心本具理) to express the internal relationship between mind and moral principle(s).10 As for the meaning of the inward moral principle(s), Zhu Xi further explained: Dao is the everlasting/infinite principle that all ought to implement. . . . It is a universal principle. . . . Since the beginning of the Sky and Earth, our ancestors Fu Xi 伏羲 and Huang Di 黃帝, the principle has existed and has never changed. (Zhu 1986: [13] 231)

In this statement, the standard of moral judgment is not relative. The validity of moral principle(s) is not altered through time or space, meaning it is not limited by influences from different eras and regions. Therefore, the inward moral principle(s) that the mind possesses must be universally valid. According to the previous statement, then Zhu Xi’s terminology, “the inward criteria of moral judgment” that the mind possesses is “universally valid.” Nevertheless, if all this is so, then why should an agent still need to engage in investigating moral principle(s) of things? Zhu Xi’s answer is that although ordinary people have inward understanding of morality, their understanding of morality might be only at a surface level. In spite of their understanding of morality, one might still act wrongly, because evil intentions might suddenly appear and his/her  Professor Chen Lai also claims that mind possesses inward moral principle(s) (Chen 1990: 190–91). 10

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ordinary moral sense might not strong enough to withstand these seducements or challenges. This means that an agent’s intentions may not be completely or purely based upon moral principle(s). Zhu Xi indicated that in the circumstance of ordinary rational understanding of morality, while making a moral decision, desires often arise and quibbling with the dictates of moral laws. Theses desires may even convince an agent that it is morally acceptable to satisfy oneself by gaining personal glory and selfish profits through moral conduct. This is the experience of the so-called “natural dialect.” Obviously, the problem is that one’s ordinary rational understanding of morality cannot withstand the seduction of one’s desires. In other words, it cannot effectively respond to the natural dialectic. In this case, we can see that ordinary rational understanding of morality produces limitations on practicing the commands of morality (Lai 2016: 63–64). It may fail to provide an agent with sufficient motivation to accomplish justified moral command(s). Zhu Xi explained this problem in the following way: If one’s understanding of morality does not reach the ultimate, his motivation for practicing what he morally-ought-to-do may involve motivations which rejects doing so. (Zhu 1986: [15] 297) Theoretically, by means of one’s inward standard of moral judgment one is able to judge whether one faces a morally-ought-to-do or morally-ought-not-to-do action. However, it is not always so when one is in the midst of making moral choices. If one considers that doing what one morally-ought-to-do or ought-not-to-do poses no harm either way, then one eventually does nothing or does something that goes against what one morally-ought-to-do. This phenomenon demonstrates the fact that “knowing only within common sense does not necessarily lead to the right action.” It only means that the one’s understanding of morality fails to reach the ultimate. (Zhu 1986: [15] 297)

We can gather that, according to Zhu’s original texts cited above, if an agent’s understanding of morality is merely attained by means of common sense, although she can distinguish what she morally-ought-to-do from morally-ought-not-to-do, ordinary rational understanding of morality would offer insufficient motivation for the agent to act accordingly. Especially in a situation when one morally-ought-to-do is in conflict with his/her personal desires or gains, the difficulty becomes manifest. This means that knowing within common sense may lead to no action. Or even worse, this knowing is discarded and one acts wrongly when one’s personal interests are involved. Based on this, we can explain why the phenomenon, “the weakness of the will,” “committing crimes,” or “arguing what we generally consider to be good people” occurs at times. It also illustrates that while one operates at the level of ordinary rational understanding of morality, one cannot withstand the natural dialectic. In those cases, the natural dialectic overrides their rationality. Therefore, if ordinary rational understanding of morality cannot withstand the seduction of one’s desires so that moral conflict arises, this can only be resolved by one’s understanding becoming ­transformed from ordinary rationality into a level of understanding the complete and true meaning of morality. That is to say, “intention-purified within morality”

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(yicheng 意誠) must be constructed on the basis of “being at the ultimate level of practical understanding of morality” (zhizhi 知至). In this case, investigating moral principle(s) of things is the prerequisite of purifying one’s own intention. Only by reaching the level of a philosophically rational understanding of morality, the problem derived from the natural dialectic can be tackled with confidence. Therefore, we have good reasons to believe that it is necessary for Zhu Xi to assert that the investigating moral principle(s) of things is an indispensable and fundamental method of moral cultivation for accomplishing the state of intentions being purified. Understanding the complexity and richness of morality attained by the gradual steps initiated by the method of investigating moral principle(s) of things is the basis for an agent to reach the ultimate level of the practical understanding of morality. In Zhu Xi’s terminology, the philosophically rational understanding of morality and reaching the ultimate level of the practical understanding of morality have an identical meaning, though they employ different wordings. With regard to reaching the ultimate level of practical understanding of morality, Zhu Xi elaborated it in the following manner: Let us note the distinction of the priority of righteousness (moral command 義) over profit (li 利) as an example. Yesterday one pondered that righteousness is required, yet one decided not to express righteousness since not doing so poses no harm. Then one pursued immoral profits even though one ought not to do so. This shows that one fails to execute investigating moral principle(s) of things thoroughly, and his understanding of morality remains only at the level of common sense. Today, however, one declares that he must carry out righteousness and in fact does it, and does so with determination that one disregards immoral profits by all means. This means that the individual has constructed his/her moral identity through a thorough cultivation of investigating moral principle(s) of things. (Zhu 1986: [15] 297)

In Zhu Xi’s conception of reaching the ultimate level of the practical understanding of morality, the final goal through investigating moral principle(s) of things is to reject the domination of one’s selfish desires and personal gains to execute one’s high and pure moral judgment. This means an agent avoids completely the previously discussed problem: that knowing within common sense does not necessarily lead to right action. Zhu Xi further explains of reaching the ultimate level of practical understanding of morality, in the following sayings: The primary purpose of investigating moral principle(s) of things is to accomplish a philosophically rational understanding of morality. It means that one can comprehend morality clearly to its bones. (Zhu 1986: [15] 284) Once understanding morality thoroughly, one becomes unified with moral principle(s). (Zhu 1986: [117] 2815) Once unified, there are no more selfish desires; there is purity of morality and righteousness. (Zhu 1986: [79] 2034)

The above texts can be understood as follows: it is imperative to comprehend morality honestly to the core as to accomplish a philosophical rational understanding of

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morality. Once the unification of mind and moral principle(s) is achieved, an agent can endorse his/her moral identity firmly with his/her reason-for-action, and can refrain oneself from any non-moral or immoral motivations related to personal gains. We suggest that, in Zhu Xi’s account of these concerns, reaching the ultimate level of the practical understanding of morality and a philosophically rational understanding of morality are essentially equivalent and interchangeable. The phrase “to its bones” that Zhu Xi uses is an idiom and a metaphor. It means that an agent has by practice understood the profundity of morality through investigating moral principle(s) of things. By this method of moral self-reflection, one achieves the state of total clarity. The main purpose of Zhu Xi using that phrase to illustrate a philosophically rational understanding of morality is to distinguish it essentially from normal cognition, because cognition does not necessarily imply action. This indicates that a philosophically rational understanding of morality does not belong to the scope of empirical knowledge. A philosophically rational understanding of morality signifies that one’s moral identity is constituted completely, and it must be embodied in an agent’s actual moral action. We reiterate that one’s moral identity is one’s reason-­ for-­action. Therefore, a philosophically rational understanding of morality inevitably leads to virtuous actions. For modern readers, we can further illustrate our points through observations provided by the contemporary American Kantian scholar, Christine M. Korsgaard: Every agent has many practical identities, and one’s action is “governed by some conception of your (one’s) practical identity” (Korsgaard 1996: 121). Our concern highlights that, one’s moral identity is the foremost and absolute standard that other practical identities cannot violate. If an agent always obeys his/her moral identity, the agent’s action would always be moral without exception. This concern further contributes to our analysis on the importance of a philosophically rational understanding of morality as a “moral identity.” As discussed previously, an ordinary rational understanding of morality is the starting point for moral self-reflection. Therefore, the purpose of thoroughly conducting the investigating moral principle(s) of things (moral self-reflection) is not to acquire new moral knowledge from learning or empirical activity. Through moral selfreflection, we can understand fully the true meaning of moral practice. In this sense, moral principle(s) which directly determine(s) our action is internal, not external. Following this line of discussion, if our respective analyses of Zhu Xi’s and Cheng Yi’s moral theories are justified, we shall then reconsider Mou Zongsang’s theoretical classification of Zhu and Cheng under the ethical model of heteronomy. With regard to this issue, Professor Liu Shu-hsien 劉述先 (1934–2016) indicated that Mou developed his own peculiar understanding and specifically-defined usage of the concepts of “heteronomy” and “autonomy.” Liu explained: Mou’s definition of “autonomy” means to intuit practically what he named “ontological being with cosmological activity”(ji cun-you ji huo-dong de ben-ti 即存有即活動的本體) merely by means of the ontological method [which means someone intuits the Being possessing creativity with his “intellectual intuition”] which as what Cheng Ming-dao did. However, this is not the ordinary understanding of the meaning of autonomy. In western

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philosophical tradition which derives from what Socrates declares as “intellectualistic ethics,” “autonomy” means that one conducts virtue for virtue’s sake according to the truth. On the contrary, to conduct virtue for the sake of one’s happiness or profits is “heteronomy.” According to Mr. Mou’s definition, even Kant’s moral theory is not an ethic of “autonomy” because Kant, who follows the Christian tradition, cannot admit that we have “intellectual intuition.” This definition is difficult for the westerns to understand. (Liu 2015: 117)

We agree with Liu that Mou’s definition of “autonomy” is not exactly the same as Kant. However, Mou does base his understanding of “autonomy” mainly derive from Kant’s concept, only that Mou goes a step further. He further articulates the definition of “autonomy” to the extent that “intellectual intuition” is a precondition. According to Kant’s moral theory, if our will to act does not come from external moral principle(s), and we are not under the domination of our desires or happiness to fulfill the moral commands, we then act autonomously. Under this premise, we find that the real moral practice in Zhu Xi’s mind is also not for the sake of satisfying our desires, nor acquiring happiness or profits. It is executed only for the sake of morality itself and Zhu’s concepts is compatible with Kant’s understanding of “autonomy.” Previously in Sect. 2 of this chapter we have discussed Tang Junyi’s interpretation of Zhu Xi’s investigating moral principle(s) of things. One of his perspectives is especially inspiring. Tang described that in the process of moral reflection on moral principle(s), we will endorse the reality of moral principle(s) with the elevation of our understanding of morality. Our endorsement of the reality of moral principle(s) will motivate us to fulfill the moral commands for the sake of the morality itself. By this meaning, our mind will approach moral principle(s), and the relationship between mind and moral principle(s) is finally closely unified. Therefore, each of the three conditions—(1) “to elevate the practical understanding of morality,” (2) “to endorse the truth of morality,” and (3) “to fulfill the moral commands purely for the sake of morality itself”—will “support one another and approach the perfection together (xiangchi gong-zhang 相持共長)” in the process of our moral reflection on moral principle(s). Tang’s interpretation revealed the possibility that if an agent can conduct investigating moral principle(s) of things completely and grasp the true meaning of morality, the one will surely and autonomously act with other like-minded people in accordance with moral principle(s). We call this The “Model of Priority in reflecting on moral principle(s)” (zhu-li xing-tai 主理型態). With parallel observations taken from Kant’s Critique of Practical Reason, we believe that one claim of his is particularly helpful. It provides us with a reasonable ground to interpret Zhu Xi’s moral theory, not as the ethics of “heteronomy,” but as the “Model of Priority in reflecting on moral principle(s).” Kant has stated: Thus freedom and unconditional practical law reciprocally imply each other. Now I do not ask here whether they are in fact different or whether it is not much rather the case that an unconditional law is merely the self-consciousness of a pure practical reason, this being identical with the positive concept of freedom; I ask instead from what our cognition of the unconditionally practical starts, whether from freedom or from the practical law? (Kant 1997: 26–27)

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We deduct that this idea described by Kant is analogical to what we previously discussed in “moral identity” and a philosophical understanding of morality. If one’s action is free from the domination of personal desires or gains, one unconditionally conducts moral laws legislated by one’s mind. If so, one’s will is free. Therefore, a will that is determined by unconditional moral principle(s) must be a “free will.” We can also consider “free will” from a different approach or sequence of arguments. While free will reveals itself and determines our actions, it rejects the temptation of desires, and we act unconditionally to accomplish a real and pure moral practice. Therefore, with either approach we analyze the meaning of unconditionality in morality. We take this to be what Kant means when he stated: “Freedom and an unconditional practical law reciprocally imply each other.” Based on the above-mentioned claims, we can draw the following inferences. (1) The “Lu–Wang Model” (Lu Xiangshan 陸象山 [1139–1192] and Wang Yangming 王陽明 [1472–1529]) claimed that we should start our unconditional moral practice with the “moral mind” (benxin 本心). In other words, this is the model of reflexively awakening oneself to the moral consciousness of one’s conscience. The purpose of this moral cultivation is to ensure that one’s conscience can reveal itself during moral events. Once one is conscious that the conscience reveals itself, one must grasp moral principle(s) and make the conscience become the master, taking complete charge of one’s action. Thus, one’s desires and personal gains cannot intervene when one executes what one morally ought to do during moral events. This is what Mou described as a “vertical model of moral cultivation.” In Kant’s terminology, this vertical model is similar to the approach “starting with the freedom (free will).” (2) The “Cheng–Zhu Model” (Cheng Yi and Zhu Xi) claimed that we should rely on the process of elevating our practical understanding of morality from an ordinary rationality to philosophical rationality in order to accomplish true moral conduct. Mou explained investigating moral principle(s) of things as a “horizontal model of moral cultivation.” For Kant, this horizontal model is similar to the approach “starting with practical law.” If it is viable that “freedom and practical law really reciprocally imply each other,” then it is realizable for the Lu–Wang Model and the Cheng–Zhu Model to imply reciprocally each other, and so each theory of moral cultivation fares better. The Lu–Wang model acknowledges that our moral mind, which in Kantian terminology is equal to free will, can demand us to act for the sake of the moral principle(s) whenever we are confronted with a situation of moral relevance. However, in order to prevent our moral mind from being clouded occasionally by our desires, we must allow our moral mind to take charge in moral events. Although the Cheng–Zhu Model does not start with the moral mind (free will), it validates that mind and moral principle(s) can become unified through investigating moral principle(s) of things. With these examinations, we suggest that once one completely understands the meaning of moral practice, which is a philosophical understanding of morality, our “rational self” (mind) unites with moral principle(s). Though the Lu–Wang

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Model focuses on the self-revelation of the moral mind, one must also strive to “conduct philosophical reflection on the practical law of our moral mind.”11 In virtue of Kant’s view that “freedom and unconditional practical law reciprocally imply each other,” we then seek to connect the Lu–Wang and Cheng–Zhu models of moral cultivations. Here we also want to refer to Zhu Xi’s annotations of mingde 明德, because we believe that these texts imply that our inward moral principle(s) function as guidelines for action whenever necessary. Zhu Xi explained these: One’s conscience (mingde 明德)12 will never cease. It functions whenever necessary in an event calling for moral judgment. For example, when one encounters an event that is against righteousness, one’s shame and evil-abhorring arises. One’s compassion arises when one sees a child nearly falling into a well. One pays one’s respect when meeting virtuous people. One feels inferior to another while witnessing the person’s morally good action. These examples can be observed when the conscience reveals itself. (Zhu 1986: [14] 262)

Zhu Xi, frequently, relied on these daily life examples to clarify that we can be aware of our conscience operating whenever necessary in every moral event. Although Zhu’s depiction of conscience is not identical with the Lu–Wang’s model of the moral mind, this conscience can respond to moral events and provide moral principle(s) for one to follow. Therefore, we can find that mind and moral principle(s) constantly operate and synchronize. Or we can also describe that mind and moral principle(s) are indeed tightly connected. We find similar perspectives in Zhu Xi’s discussion of another significant aspect of moral cultivation, stabilizing the mind in the state of being calm, attentive and reasonable. He explained this aspect in the following manner: I boldly sought to advance my opinion on the theory of “stabilizing the mind in the state of calmness, attentiveness and reasonableness” long before I can remember. When the brief light of our conscience reveals itself, one must courageously and assertively embrace it, so that this inner light does not fade. This is essential and at root of moral cultivation. Once this moral cultivation is established, one is able to elevate one’s moral character to a higher level. On the contrary, if one is not even aware of the beginning of this inner light, one is lost in the vastness, and has no idea even to know where to start. (Zhu 2000: [40] 1722)

Zhu Xi’s theory of stabilizing the mind in the state of calmness, attentiveness and reasonableness is built upon the conscience as the source of moral motivation for one to act virtuously. This means that, while our conscience reveals itself, we are well aware of moral principle(s). In this sense, our conscience which possesses moral principle(s) is the moral motivational source as well. Based on this understanding of Zhu’s stabilizing mind in the state of calmness, attentiveness and reasonableness, we suggest that such moral cultivation is within the effect of moral  This is similar to the philosophical statements in the Mencius: “the distinction between righteousness and profit” (yi–li zhi bian 義利之辨) or “that moral principle is the internal standard of moral judgment” (yi-nei 義內) (Zhu 1983: 201–2, 326–27). 12  A possible and reasonable justification for translating mingde as “conscience” (liangxin良心) can be found in the following text: “‘[N]o child does not know how to love his/her parents; as he/ she matures, none does not know how to reverence his elder siblings.’ This is conscience. Conscience is mingde” (Zhu 1986: [14] 269). 11

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principle(s) upon our moral practice. However, Mou claimed contrarily that such stabilizing the mind in the state of calmness, attentiveness and reasonableness is a cultivation which is void of the source of moral motivation. Respectfully, we differ in our opinion about Mou’s commentary on Zhu. This distinction may require further deliberation at another time. As discussed previously, Zhu opposed that mind is identical with moral principle(s). This claim provided scholars to criticize Zhu in creating a critical theoretical problem. If they are not identical, mind is not the source of moral motivation. Yet, Zhu did illuminate that “one’s conscience will never cease and it functions whenever necessary in an event calling for moral judgment.” Mind is able to command us to follow the moral principle(s). We reaffirm that mind and moral principle(s) constantly operate and synchronize in Zhu’s concept. Therefore, we convey that mind and moral principle(s) must be integrated since they are profoundly connected.

5 Conclusion Based on the aforementioned analyses and discussions, we reiterate and conclude with the following three points: 1. In Zhu Xi’s theory of principle and vital force, principle is the ground that makes vital force function and circulate. With vital force’s functioning and circulating, myriads of things exist. Vital force is a reality; therefore, principle must be a real entity. Relying on this understanding, we can see that principle has priority over vital force. The meaning of priority here is “metaphysical priority,” and not merely “logical priority.” 2. Zhu Xi claims that our ordinary rational understanding of morality may be a cause of our limitations in executing moral command(s). In order to ensure that our behavior is morally right, we ought to elevate our practical understanding of morality to the level of philosophical rationality, relying on investigating moral principle(s) of things. As long as we grasp the true meaning of morality, our endorsement of the reality of moral principle(s) will motivate us to fulfill the moral commands for the sake of the morality itself. In this sense, a philosophically rational understanding of morality signifies that one’s self-constructed moral identity is complete. 3. Though Zhu Xi has advocated starting moral cultivation by investigating moral principle(s) of things, what Mou has called the horizontal model of moral cultivation, begins with reflection on unconditional moral principle(s), it reached the state “that the rational self (mind) and moral principle(s) are integrated with one another.” In contrast, to reflexively awaken one-self to moral consciousness of one’s conscience (the vertical model of moral cultivation) begins with the moral mind (free will). In order to prevent our moral mind from being clouded by our selfish desires, this vertical model must incorporate “conducting philosophical

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reflection on moral mind’s principle(s).” Based on this understanding, the Cheng–Zhu Model (prioritizing reflection on moral principle[s]) and the Lu– Wang Model (to reflexively awaken oneself to moral consciousness of one’s conscience) complement one another. We believe an ideal theory of moral cultivation must include both models. In order to enter “the gate of sageliness,” one discovers the pathway, either by “starting with the horizontal model and reaching vertical,” or “starting with the vertical model but encompassing the horizontal.” Our analyses recognize that Zhu Xi’s moral philosophy drew criticisms and caused contentions among various scholars investigating the issue of morality. We first have focused on the theoretical differences between Mou and Tang, each articulating their stand on the relationship between mind and moral principle(s). We then seek to suggest a new approach, with observations on morality provided by Kantian scholars, to understand and reinterpret Zhu Xi’s core concepts of moral practice. We acknowledged that our studies align more closely with Tang. To clarify the relationship between mind and moral principle(s), our discussion centered on some of Zhu Xi’s original texts concerning key terms and phrases. For contemporary Confucian readers, we summarized our findings on selected New Confucian scholars’ viewpoints with the aim to provide a comprehensive account of our claims. For further studies, we suggest using our approach to stimulate the current conceptions of our readers, and then to explore the ways of justifiably challenging this existing framework.

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“Universality and reflective self” by Thomas Nagel, and “History, morality, and the test of reflection” by Bernard Williams. At the final chapter, Christine Korsgaard gives her reply to those who raise questions to her.) Lai, Ko-chu. 2016. “To justify Chu Hsi’s ‘Ko-Chih Kong-fu’: A Reflective-Mode from ‘Ch’ang-­ chih’ to ‘Chen-chih.’” Chung Cheng Chinese Studies 28: 49–75. (This article is to justify that Chu Hsi’s [Zhu Xi’s] moral cultivation of Ko-wu chih-chih is not merely a cognitive mode, but also a reflective mode. It provides a different approach to interpret Chu Hsi’s [Zhu Xi’s] moral philosophy from Mou Zongsan.) Lao, Sze-kwang 勞思光. 2001. A History of Chinese Philosophy 中國哲學史, vol. 3. Taipei 臺北: Sangming Press 三民書局. Leung, Fan-ching 梁奮程. 2017. Constructing Democratic Discourse of Contemporary New-­ Confucianism Based on the Concept of Public Sphere 以公共空間概念為核心建構當代新儒 家的民主論述. Chungli 中壢: Graduate Institute of Philosophy, National Central University 國立中央大學哲學研究所. (The aim of Leung’s dissertation is to discuss the typology and argumentation of New Politics or external kingliness [xin wai wang 新外王] in the context of contemporary New Confucianism.) Liu, Shu-hsien 劉述先. 2015. On the Three Great Epochs of Confucian Philosophy 論儒家哲學 的三個大時代. Hong Kong 香港: The Chinese University Press 中文大學出版社. (Professor Liu Shuhsien was a famous philosopher who studied Chinese philosophy in Asia. He, taking the perspectives of contemporary Confucians, analyzed and clarified the development of important Confucian concepts in three periods, such as: pre-Qin, Song and Ming dynasties, and contemporary. The part we employed to help discuss is his perspective of autonomy which is not exactly the same with the definition of Mou Zongsan.) Mou, Zongsan 牟宗三. 1968–1969. Metaphysical Mind and Moral Ability 心體與性體, vols. 1 and 2. Taipei 臺北: Zhengzhung shuju 正中書局. (In volume 1, Mou Zongsan argued that the Neo-Confucianism [Song–Ming Confucianism] can be understood and defined as three theoretical modes. They are Lu–Wang Mode, Cheng–Zhu Mode, and Wufeng–Jishan Mode. The Cheng–Zhu Mode is essentially different from the others. In volume 3, Mou Zongsan provided his penetrating philosophical interpretations of Zhu Xi’s theories of ontology, cosmology, and morality.) ———. 2000. From Lu Xiangshan to Liu Jishan 從陸象山到劉蕺山. Taipei 臺北: Taiwan Student Books 臺灣學生書局. (This book includes: [1] the analysis and interpretations of Lu Xiangshan’s and Wang Yangming’s moral theories; [2] the development of Wang’s philosophy after him; [3] Liu Jishan’s philosophy, which were all given by Mou Zhongsan.) ———. 2003a. Nineteen Lectures on Chinese Philosophy 中國哲學十九講. Taipei 臺北: Linking Publishing 聯經出版公司. (Mou Zhongsan made nineteen Lectures of Chinese Philosophy including the particularity of Chinese philosophy, two kinds of truth and the differences between their universality, the significance of Chinese and the happening cause/reason for Pre-­ Qin philosophers, Confucianism, Daoism, the school of Legalist, Buddhism, and Philosophy of the Wei and Jin Periods [Xuanxue 玄學], the investigations of summum bonum and perfect teaching, etc.) ———. 2003b. Lecture of Lao Zi’s Dao Te Jing 老子《道德經》演講錄, session 5. Legein Monthly 鵝湖月刊 338: 5–17. (Mou Zhongsan gave his philosophical interpretations of Chapters 22 and 25 of Dao De Jing.) Qian, Mu 錢穆. 2011. The Main Point of Zhu Zi’s Thoughts 朱子學提綱. Taipei 臺北: Su-Shu-­ Lou Cultural & Educational Foundation; Lantai chubanshe 素書樓文教基金會 蘭臺出版社. (Qian Mu gave a sketch of Zhu Xi’s theories of ontology, cosmology, and moral philosophy by analyzing main and important concepts which are relative to Zhu’s philosophy.) Tang, Junyi 唐君毅. 1973. An Enquiry into Chinese Philosophy: On the Way 中國哲學原論:原 道篇, vol. 3. Hong Kong 香港: New Asian Institute Press 新亞研究所. (Tang Junyi gave his philosophical analyses of Chinese philosophy including Confucianism, Daoism, the school of Legalist, Buddhism, and Philosophy of the Wei and Jin Periods [Xuanxue 玄學].)

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———. 1984. An Enquiry into Chinese Philosophy: On the Education 中國哲學原論:原教篇. Taipei 臺北: Taiwan Student Books 臺灣學生書局. (Tang Junyi gave his philosophical analyses of Neo-Confucianism [Song–Ming periods]. He especially investigated and clarified the debate of the similarities and dissimilarities between Zhu Xi and Lu Xiangshan.) ———. 1989. An Enquiry into Chinese Philosophy: On Nature 中國哲學原論:原性篇. Taipei 臺 北: Taiwan Student Books 臺灣學生書局. (Tang Junyi discussed the development of relevant concepts and conceptions of human nature in Chinese philosophy.) Yang, Cho-hon 楊祖漢. 2011. “The Neo-Interpretation to Cheng Yi-chuan’s and Zhu Xi’s ‘Zhenzhi’: From the Viewpoint of Kantian Moral Philosophy.” Taiwan Journal of East Asian Studies 8.2: 177–203. (In this article, Professor Yang attempts to justify that Zhenzhi in Chen– Zhu philosophy is able to successfully motivate an agent to complete a moral conduct while he or she has to make moral decision in a relevant moral situation. Professor Yang gives his philosophical interpretations of Zhenzhi on the basis of Kantian approach.) Zhu, Xi 朱熹. 1983. Four Books in Chapter and Verse with Collected Commentaries 四書章句集 注. Beijing 北京: Zhonghua Shuju 中華書局. ———. 1986. Classified Dialogues of Master Zhu 朱子語類. Edited by Li Jingde 黎靖德. Beijing 北京: Zhonghua shuju 中華書局. ———. 2000. Literary Corpus of Master Zhu Xi朱子文集. Edited by Chen Junmin 陳俊民. Taipei 臺北: Defu wenjiao jijinhui 德富文敎基金會. Cho-hon Yang is a professor at the Department of Chinese Literature and Graduate Institute of Philosophy, National Central University, Taiwan (R.O.C.). His research interests are Confucianism, especially in Neo-Confucianism and Chosan Confucianism, and Kantian Philosophy. He published Perusing the Korean Confucianism’s Polemic from the Contemporary Confucianism’s Viewpoint II in 2017.  

Ko-chu Lai is an assistant professor at the Department of Chinese Literature, National Chung Cheng University, Taiwan (R.O.C.). His research interests are Pre-­Qin Confucianism, Zhu Xi’s and Wang Yang-Ming’s moral philosophy, Theory of Reasons.  

Part III

Aspects of Zhu Xi’s Philosophy

Chapter 12

Li and Qi as Supra-Metaphysics Galia Patt-Shamir

1 Introduction: Li, Qi, and the Unbearable Burden of Understandings Zhu Xi’s 朱熹 conceptions of li 理 and qi 氣 have been long regarded by the field as the core of his metaphysical discourse. It has also been claimed that for Zhu Xi, this li–qi system is part of a broader dialectic of oppositions—including pairs of concepts such as substance (ti 體) and functions (yong 用); and root (ben 本) and branches (mo 末). In this system of oppositions, li is prioritized. Due to this, Zhu Xi’s philosophy has stirred critics to regard him as a dualist (Feng 1938; Chan 1963).1 Zhu Xi tends to understand life, action, and thought through polarities, in particular through li and qi. More recently, this agreement has been questioned, most commonly through understanding Zhu’s philosophy as philosophy of process (Cheng 1991; Berthrong 1998, 2005; Baba 2015), and/or suggesting li–qi as a Special thanks for Prof. Yong Huang, Dr. Kai-chiu Ng, and two anonymous readers for their thorough reading and insightful comments, including a suggestion for the chapter’s title. Work toward this research was supported by the Israel Science Foundation (grant no. 395/12).  For more recent echoes of this attitude, it suffices to simply take a look, in Antonio S.  Cua’s Encyclopedia of Chinese Philosophy, at the entry on Zhu Xi (Chu Hsi) written by Liu Shu-hsien. The section on li and qi (subtitled: The Metaphysics of Li and Qi) presupposes that any discussion on the ideas in Zhu’s philosophy can be framed within the context of metaphysics. Liu states that “Zhu Xi developed a dualistic metaphysics of li and qi” and yet his “thought may be characterized as a combination of constitutional dualism and functional monism.” He then explains that “Zhu’s dualism should not be understood as either Platonic or Cartesian because li and qi are inseparable.” See, Liu S. (2003: 368, 369, 898). See also Liu S. (1998) and Liu J. (2005). Truly, even in this volume, the li–qi discussion opens the section on Zhu’s metaphysics. 1

G. Patt-Shamir (*) Department of Philosophy, Tel-Aviv University, Tel Aviv, Israel e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2020 K.-c. Ng, Y. Huang (eds.), Dao Companion to ZHU Xi’s Philosophy, Dao Companions to Chinese Philosophy 13, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-29175-4_12

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logical and linguistic axis for metaphysics (Zhang 2015; Thompson 2015).2 It is my wish to follow this latter line of thought. I claim that when focusing on the various roles and relatedness of li and qi, rather than looking for their importance and asking which is prior, one realizes that Zhu Xi cannot be regarded as a dualist. Moreover, I suggest that when the so-called “li–qi metaphysics” is presented along this line, a “sense of metaphysics” is revealed that embraces much more than metaphysics—and in this way, reaffirms and renews Confucian praxis in time-honored philosophical terminology and method. Indeed, for Zhu Xi, any serious account of the foundations of life necessarily involve the li–qi polarity, and disclose its complexity, dynamism, vibrancy, transformability, and diversity. In this regard, while li occupies a place of honor in his thought as defining the Confucian discourse in the Song as lixue 理學, li’s vital relationship to qi, for both practical and explanatory purposes is more perplexing.3 As we see below, Zhu Xi maintains that li and qi are functionally on par and mutually implicative. Yet, in certain instances, he prioritizes li for ensuring the duration of phenomena, the intelligibility of knowledge, and the essentiality of moral life. The intricacy of the ideas of li and qi can easily be seen in the range of translations they have received. The term qi encapsulates the evasive nature of the intangible “matter of life” which existed before anything known or experienced. Qi can be illustrated as intangible “building blocks” of everything we encounter in life and the world we live in. Comparable to the idea of “power” in the Humean sense, qi brings about life, fills the universe and every being in it, and constitutes every phenomenon, being, feeling, thought, or deed—physical as well as mental.4 Trying to capture its essence as a substance that is not solely physical, qi has been rendered as “ether” (T’ang 1956; McMorran 1975), “matter energy” (Needham 1956) and “essential matter” (Chow 1993), “passion-nature” (Legge 1961), “material force” (Chan 1963), “vital force” (Huang S. 1968), “ether of materialization” (Metzger 1977), “pneuma” (Henderson 1984), and “psycho-physical force” (Smith et al. 1990). As for li, its original reference is to the patterns in things: the markings in jade, or the veins in raw material, which is then turned into concrete form. Li has acquired the meaning of the universal form of things. It is a principle avails existence and governs all beings, similarly to Greek arche (ἀρχή) as “beginning,” “origin,” “source of action,” as well as first principle or element. It allows for human understanding of itself, or “reason” itself, as its very capacity for making sense. In this way, li was introduced as “law,” alluding to physical law (Bruce 1923), equated with reason, and with the Aristotelian notion of “Form” (Needham 1956). Li has been commonly translated as “principle,” a translation which attempts to capture its essential truth lying in the foundation for reasoning (e.g., Chan 1963). More recently, li has been  Nuances of this understanding can already be detected earlier in Needham (1956), D. Yu (1959), and more recently Patt-Shamir (2004, 2005), Angle (2015) and Meng (2015). 3  For example, see Kim (2015: 5). 4  Compare with the Humean idea of power as expressed in Treatise of Human Nature in the observation that “the terms of efficacy, agency, power, force, energy, necessity, connexion, and productive quality, are all nearly synonymous” (Hume 1978: 157). 2

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rendered as “coherence” (Ziporyn 2013; Kim 2015). Accentuating its discernible regularity, li has also been rendered as “inherent normative patterns” (Bol 1992), “pattern” (Thompson 2015), and “order” (Patt-Shamir 2004) or “ordering principle” (Adler 2014)—implying an organization or arrangement in accordance with universal rule. The unbearable burden of translation carries hefty interpretive weight regarding the significance of each term individually in addition to the type of relatedness between the pair. In some cases, the very translation also implies a tendency for understanding the relatedness between li and qi, and the order of precedence between them. Introducing li as “pattern,” “law,” “principle,” or “order” as opposed to qi as “stuff,” “ether,” or “matter-energy” implies a tendency for a metaphysical understanding of the roles and relations between li and qi, similar to that between “form” and “matter” in the Aristotelian tradition. In this case, the order of precedence between the two expresses one’s philosophical tendencies: by prioritizing qi over li, one appears to be a materialist. In contrast, prioritizing li over qi, one seems to be a rationalist (as seen in most cases regarding Zhu Xi’s philosophy). A different terminological choice of “coherence” or “organization” for li, as opposed to “psycho-­ physical stuff,” or “sense-data” for translating qi, suggests an epistemological view, somewhat similar to Kantian noumenon opposed to phenomenon. In the latter case, li is often prioritized as organization and frame of reference, and qi as sense-data. In this case, paraphrasing Kant, “li without qi is empty, and qi without li is blind.”5 A third choice of rendering li and qi as “principle” (in the meta-ethical sense) vis-à-vis “passion-nature” or “vital power” may reflect a moral, and a somewhat psychological understanding of the terms and their relationships, similar to proper rules of behavior and the endowment, the drive, or the passion for their actualization. Every choice of how to relate and prioritize li and qi embodies its own particular pitfalls. For example, treating li and qi as equal risks ending up with a conception of nature as pure spontaneity and of human morality as entirely perspectival. Prioritizing qi over li minimizes the capacity of a theoretical justification and risks reducing morality to the perceived norms. In prioritizing li over qi, however, one risks ending up not only a dualist but, moreover, a solipsist, disconnected from the world we live in. It is the present task to re-examine the roles of li and qi as the core of Zhu Xi’s philosophy, following Zhang Liwen’s suggestion that li and qi are “neither separate nor fused,” standing “not in temporal relations of before and after but in a logical relationship” (Zhang 2015: 16–17). To the entanglement regarding the qualities of their relatedness, and the nature of the so-called “metaphysics” they suggest, I add yet another perspective based on the relations between li and qi in Zhu Xi’s philosophy, as threefold. From a metaphysical perspective, li is the world’s order, or pattern which governs the cosmic process, while qi functions as the energetic stuff that it materializes. From an epistemological perspective, li functions as coherence or mental organization, while qi is sense-data. From the pragmatic perspective, li is  “Thoughts without intuitions are empty, intuitions without concepts are blind.” See Kant (1929: A51/B76). 5

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moral principle, and qi is human moral drive as raw material, or vital power. Presented in this way, I hope to contribute to understanding the vigor of Zhu’s philosophy as a living philosophy. In this interpretation, understanding Zhu’s ideas on li and qi reaffirms the knowledge of the living world, and “metaphysics” loses its Parmenidean significance as the fundamental nature of reality, which is separated from events. Accordingly, I suggest here that Zhu Xi’s philosophy of li and qi is neither a pure metaphysics nor a crude dualism; rather, it is a type of internal realism, emerged from the ongoing process of complementing and mutually generating functions of li and qi which never exist in separation.6 In common with metaphysical realism, it holds that there are things “out there,” and that we do not simply legislate for the truth. In common with perspectivistic or relativistic views, it holds that our assumptions and interests make a decisive contribution to our view of the world. The so-called “metaphysics” provided by Zhu Xi is no longer distinct and different from either the world we live in or from life itself. In this way, it is more than (pure) metaphysics. Perhaps it can even be considered non-metaphysics.

2 Order and Stuff: A (Sense of) Metaphysics of Li and Qi Li functions as universal order in the process of cultivating qi as the “stuff” of which the universe is made. This attitude cuts directly to the core of Zhu Xi’s mature “Study of the Way” (daoxue 道學) as honoring the role of process in the ontological and cosmological structures in the universe.7 This view also implies a perspective regarding the co-dependence between li and qi: “[i]n the universe there has never been any qi without li or li without qi” (tianxia weiyou wuli zhiqi yiweiyou wuqi zhiili 天下未有無理之氣亦未有無氣之理) (Zhu 1977: [49] 1a; Chan 1963: 634). The above statement points to a clear understanding that li and qi are interrelated. Similar to Aristotle’s “hylomorphism” which contends that every physical object is a compound of form and matter, the simplicity and straightforwardness of the above statement projects an ontological status of both li and qi; as li and qi are both “in the universe” (emphasis mine; tianxia 天下). As Zhu states elsewhere, “there is li before there is qi. But it is only when there is qi that li finds a place to settle” (Zhu 1977: [49] 6a; Chan 1963: 637). It may appear that according to Zhu Xi, li–qi dynamics shape a “metaphysical foundation” in the strict sense. Eiho Baba explains li as “emergent patterns,” which are “both supervenient on and ontologically irreducible to qi,” as “inseparable yet unmingled” (Baba 2015: 198). To fully understand this

 Internal realism is a term coined by Hilary Putnam. This involves rejecting the “God’s Eye Point of View” which Putnam thought is characteristic of metaphysical realism. For Putnam, internal realism always involves a commitment to the idea that truth is (somehow) epistemically constrained. See Putnam (1977: 483–98). 7  For Zhu Xi’s philosophy of process, see Berthrong (2005: 257–78). 6

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(and to be able to later explicate it as a “sense of metaphysics,” rather than “strict metaphysics”), let us follow Zhu Xi’s argument: Li has never been separated from qi. However, li “exists before physical form [and is therefore without it]” whereas qi “exists after physical form [and is therefore with it].” Hence when spoken of as being before or after physical form, is there not the difference of priority and posteriority? Li has no physical form, but qi is coarse and contains impurities. (Zhu 1977 [49] 1a–b; Chan 1963: 634)

According to Zhu, neither li nor qi can exist without the other. Qi without li has no form, and thus no boundaries, determinacy, or intelligibility, while li without qi has nothing to adhere to, nor actual subject matter (Chan 1963: 634, 637). Accordingly, existing before taking form (xing’er shang 形而上), the “primary quality” of li is the pure abstract order of the universe. When it exists after form is taken (xing’er xia 形而下), it is mixed together with qi, and contains superfluous information, which strips it of its genuine nature, and characterizes it by its derivative “secondary qualities” (to use a Lockean expression), which are necessary in any interaction with being and life processes. In this sense, li as being before-form signifies primary qualities as innate and necessary aspects of reality, while after-form, or after interacting with qi, it signifies secondary qualities take part in activity, followed by the effects things have as being subjective rather than objective (Locke 1894: 304–21). This dual status of li and qi as interdependent and yet with a primacy of li brings about the idea that “li is the way (dao 道) while qi is material objects” (Chan 1963: 636), whereas pragmatically, there is also some type of dependence of li on qi, such that “li attaches to qi and thus operates”(Chan 1963: 636). After form is taken, it then turns out that li, just like qi, is “psychophysical,” rather than purely “metaphysical.”8 Zhu Xi explains how this basic world structure accommodates multiplicity and diversity: Considering the fact that all things come from one source, but qi is coarse and contains impurities we see that their li is the same but their qi is different. . . . The difference in qi is due to the inequality of its purity or impurity. . . . that which integrates to produce life and disintegrates to produce death is only qi. (Zhu 1977: [49] 7a; [49] 8a; Chan 1963: 637)

In other words, qi indeed contains “impurities,” but without these impurities nothing exists, as Zhu Xi contends that there is no living or dying without it. Li being the inner order of a thing, the level of purity of qi as its raw “energetic stuff,” which is ordered, and then given coherence by li, is what determines how easily its li can be discerned. When qi is closer to pure, the nature of a thing can be easily discerned; when mixed it is hard to tell primary and secondary qualities apart. This idea is easy to grasp when we think, for example, of pure spring water (as li) as opposed to swamp water, or soapy bucket water, or a sweetened bottled drink. In this spirit, when Zhu comments on the investigation of things (gewu 格物) of the Great Learning (Daxue 大學), he refers to the investigation of the li of things, which must be discerned from their other qualities (Zhu 2002: [6] 512; See Chan 1967: 88–122; Berthrong 2010: 160). As differences are a matter of levels of purity of qi in the  Following Adler’s distinction. See Adler (2014: 79).

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realization and materialization of things, the process is ongoing, as li conditions qi in reality, and as qi conditions li in human experience. Hence, from a purely metaphysical perspective, with reference to heaven and earth, li avails, nourishes, and develops qi. Within our limited human experience, the only experience we have, li “in itself” is never present (Chan 1963: 635, 637). In this way, li cannot operate in the world without qi. And yet, it is prior to qi, or it “will remain even if the mountains and rivers and the earth itself all cave in” (Zhu 1977: 1.4a; Chan 1963: 636; see Chiu 1986: 117; also see Zhu 1977: 1.1b). The transformation and change of things necessitate no ontological split between the one order and the plurality of its occurrences. Ontologically speaking, reality is one, and there is no division between the one and the many. In this spirit, Zhu Xi cites Cheng Yi’s 程頤 (1033–1107) celebrated saying that “li is one, but its manifestations are many” (li yi fen shu 理一分殊) (Zhu 1977: [49] 7a; Chan 1963: 637; see Cheng and Cheng 1965: [3] 3b; Chan 1963: 571). With many manifestations, variations, and changes, ultimately, things are unified in one order without contradictions, as li is embodied differently in its different instances of the whole (Zhu 1977: [49] 5b; Chan 1963: 637). From the point of view of things, which incorporates the human perspective, li and qi are one, and are always experienced following their encounter with one another, when form is taken. We realize that while Zhu Xi’s methodology is dualistic, his li–qi metaphysics is holistic: everything is li and qi. This is akin to the dualistic impression of the moon bringing light to our experience of night (hence, the moon and the light are considered as two entities), while the light (which returns with the sun) “brings” the moon into the galaxy, such that the moon and its light are one. Zhu Xi’s understanding is stated clearly in his commentary on Tongshu 通書 (The Penetrating Book) by Zhou Dunyi 周敦頤 (1017–1073), the so-called “pioneering Neo-Confucian.” In chapter 22, entitled “Li, Nature, and Mandate” (Li Xing Ming 理性命), Zhou writes: This is obvious, that is subtle; if you are not educated it is not transparent (juezhang juewei feiling fuying 厥彰厥微匪靈弗瑩). (Zhou 1937a: 22.1)

Zhu Xi comments that: This is a reference to li. Yang is manifest and yin is obscure. If human’s heart-mind does not have the perfect learning of Taiji 太極, then who else can understand it?

Zhu Xi gives readers cues for understanding (as Zhou does not mention the term li in his chapter, although it is in the title). According to Zhu, li can be obvious and subtle, manifest and obscure, yang and yin. In other words, li can be the various manifestations of qi. It becomes even more interesting as Zhou adds that in order to see this lucidly, we must learn how. Zhu elaborates on this, adding that the learning of li as yin–yang world’s order, amounts, in fact, to learning Taiji.9 In order to better understand Zhu’s perspective, let us paraphrase his argument alongside Zhou’s:  Literally, the expression Taiji signifies an end beyond all ends, an extreme of all extremes, or more than the most, it can be interesting to understand its qualities in terms of arithmetical infinity, which refers to a “quantity” without bound or end; which in some senses is pretty much like zero, 9

12 Li and Qi as Supra-Metaphysics Zhou’s statement: 1. There is obvious and subtle 2. Education is necessary 3. (Then) it is transparent

249 Zhu’s appropriation: 1. There is li 2. Education of Taiji is necessary 3. (Then) you understand

The relatedness of Taiji and li cannot be overlooked in the metaphysical context of Zhu’s understanding of li and qi. Interestingly, in the comment on the chapter entitled “Order, Nature, and Mandate,” Zhu Xi, whose own methodological inclination is dualistic, does not distinguish between li and qi. He speaks instead of yinyang (as qi) accentuating oneness when equating li with Taiji. This comparison is crucial for Zhu’s solution to the challenging idea of one li and divergent natures. If the li of a thing is the factor which determines its nature, and qi is the yinyang “stuff” as pure endowment which may be shaped by li (to form its actual nature), how can it possible that all things share a single li, and yet have divergent natures? Zhu’s response lies frst, in replacing Zhou’s words “hidden and manifest” with li. Next, he adds that yang 陽 and yin 陰 (as qi) are manifest and obscure. Finally, his response includes remarks regarding the content of education. “Being educated” of Taiji, is being educated in the process of life, with its many “obvious and subtle” aspects, and yinyang manifestations. It is a matter of degree of realization. Using Zhou’s idea of Taiji for his commentary, Zhu Xi accentuates the signifcance of process. According to Zhou’s Diagram of Supreme Polarity Explained (Taijitu Shuo 太極圖說), it is the endless creative dynamism between being (you 有) and non-being (wu 無), as wuji er taiji 無極而太極 (Non-Polar and Supreme Polarity) which in itself gives birth to yin and yang, the fve phases (wuxing 五行), and the myriad things. Accordingly, Taiji is li embodied in the dynamics of activity and tranquility (dong jing 動靜), manifested through qi, yin–yang, and the fve phases (Zhou 1937b: 1). Zhu Xi indicates that Taiji is not a “thing” that existed before the formation of heaven and earth. Rather it is a name for the li of heaven and earth and things, when focusing on the process of generation, and on the interpenetration of movement and tranquility10: The Great Ultimate is nothing other than li . . . . With respect to heaven and earth, there is the Great Ultimate in them. With respect to the myriad things, there is the Great ultimate in each and every of them. Before heaven and earth existed, there was assuredly this li. It is the li that “through movement generates yang.” It is also the li that “through tranquility generates yin.” (Zhu 1977: [49] 8b–9a; Chan 1963: 638)11

and in fact represents the other aspect of zero: it can be both positive and negative; it is a quantity that does not measure; it is the perfect balance. Taiji was translated by Chan and others “Great Ultimate” (see Chan 1963: 463–65), by Adler “Supreme Polarity” (see Adler 2014: 111–36). 10 For more on the importance of the interpenetration of movement and tranquility in Zhu Xi’s philosophy, see Adler (2014: 100–106). 11 See discussion on Taiji as supreme li in Lokuang (1986: 66–67). Yu Yamanoi notes that taiji is not inherent in Zhu’s philosophy, and seeing taiji as “the totality of li” is wrong. See Y. Yu (1986: 80–85).

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Referring to Taiji (“Great Ultimate” above) as the dynamics which generate yin and yang, Taiji is in everything. In Lokuang’s words, Taiji is “the principle of the perpetual renewal of life” (Lokuang 1986: 71). Using the famous Hua Yan Buddhist analogy of the one moon whose light is scattered and seen 10,000 rivers, Zhu points out that Taiji is one, yet each thing possesses it fully (Zhu 1977: [49] 10b–11a). In this way, Taiji as a constant process of movement and relatedness, has neither spatial restriction nor physical form, during its states before activity begins and after activity takes place. It is the force of creative tension that brings the metaphysical li and the physical qi together, and evolves into the diversity that constitutes the phenomenal world.12 Zhu Xi explains: There is no other event in the universe except yin and yang succeeding each other in an unceasing cycle. This is called change. However, for these activity and tranquility, there must be the li which makes them possible. This is the Great Ultimate. (Zhu 1977: [49] 16a; Chan 1963: 641)

Life changes and transforms as it is lived, and the process of this transformation is Taiji. Zhu Xi explicitly states that what Zhou calls Taiji is “a name to express . . . the highest good in heaven and earth, man and things” (Zhu 1977: [49] 11b; Chan 1963: 640). However, as ongoing change is ineffable, depicted through analogies, it is farthest and highest. Farthest (perhaps “omnipresent”) like the moon and its scattered light, and highest (perhaps “omniscient”) like the “top of the house, or the zenith of the sky beyond which point there is no more. It is the ultimate of li” (Zhu 1977: [49] 14a; Chan 1963: 641). Adler maintains that there is no denying the idea of Taiji as farthest, highest, most extreme, or ultimate. Yet, Song Confucians did not think in linear terms, but in terms of yinyang dynamics, where the farthest point is never the “last stop on a one-way line” (Adler 2014: 122–25). If Taiji is a name for the very process of becoming, then li is its order, and qi is its stuff. In this way, neither li nor qi is profoundly superior; and yet, li does come first. Adler distinguishes a logical priority of li over qi from a temporal co-existence of li and its manifestations, which makes sense from the metaphysical perspective (Adler 2014: 114–16). As Adler maintains, “Taiji is primarily the unitary principle that contains the possibility of differentiation and change” (Adler 2014: 136). Thus understood, the term li can be seen as nourishing as well as generating qi; it at least “generates” qi as we know it. By using Taiji, Zhu can present the cultivation of the mind as mirroring natural coherence. If so, li–qi metaphysics necessitates epistemology as well.

 As Zhang Liwen opines, as the primary concept in Zhu Xi’s philosophy is li, in different contexts it is expressed as dao, taiji, tian li 天理 (natural and social patterning and norms), and even xing 性 (tendencies, dispositions, or nature). See Zhang (2015: 15–20). 12

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3 Coherence and Sense-Data: An Epistemology of Li and Qi According to Zhu Xi, “the whole of the mind is clear and open; it contains myriad li” (Zhu 1977: [5] 11a). Moreover, The mind is the myriad li; only the one who can preserve the mind can probe to the root of li. (Zhu 1977: [9] 6a; see Lokuang 1986: 70)

The unmistakable place of the mind with regards to li renders li as the mental endowment of the human mind. In this way, li can be understood as similar to the Greek idea (ἰδέα, derived from idein (ἰδεῖν), meaning “to see,” or know through seeing), and construed as an abstract concept that is usually depicted by a mental representational image of things. The mental capacity to create, understand, and preserve li appears in the above statement as an essential and defining feature of humans. Li is thus understood as a code of organization, or as a stipulating pattern. As such, li is always present and can be discovered only through inner reflection, and probing into one’s mind. Since everything we know is through li, this reflexive manner of creating and understanding the significance of li is the essential human faculty. According to Zhu, what he sees as the epistemological role of li as form of knowledge is quite essential: With the Sage, in seeing there is the li of seeing, in hearing there is the li of hearing, in speaking there is the li of speaking, in acting there is the li of acting, and in thinking there is the li of thinking. (Zhu 1977: [60] 16b–17a; Chan 1963: 649)

In the above case, li acts as a pair of glasses we wear to see, or a fishnet we use to fish. In this metaphor, what we catch is always of certain size, which is neither too small (since the net would sieve it out) nor too large (since the net would not carry it). Functioning as a filter through which we come to know the world, li is presented as a category that enables us to make judgments about the world, and our experience of it. Importantly, there is li for seeing, hearing, speaking, acting, and thinking, such that knowing is knowing through li or “knowing li.” This idea might be intriguing as no one “knows li” in the sense of having true familiarity with “li in itself,” or being able to define the very essence of this coherence, and yet as li regulates our activity of knowing, nothing that one knows, or that one can know is outside the scope of li. To understand this one may think of physical laws. Take, for example, the Newtonian law of gravitation. No one had experienced “the law” itself, and yet everything we know on earth abides by it, such that the known world is gravitational. In a different context this was quite clear to Ludwig Wittgenstein in Tractatus 5.633, when he used the eye analogy. Li is not in the world, similarly to the eye that is not in one’s visual field, as the very visual consciousness of objects in the world is not itself in the world. Yet, like visual consciousness, and consciousness in general, li, is of the world and the world cannot be known otherwise. As Zhu Xi claims in his criticism of Buddhism, “the mind is simply to embrace li” (Zhu 1977: [60] 16b–17a; Chan 1963: 649). It is evident that there is no knowledge of the world without li. As we have seen, there is no li without qi. Thus, one may assume that there is nothing to be known without qi—the crude sense-data of the seen, heard, spoken, done or thought.

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In this sense, li gives coherence, and organizes qi for human cognition. Yet, in Zhu’s epistemological discourse, we rarely find references to qi. Therefore, li appears to be prioritized again. Proficient readers of the above passage may have noticed that Zhu Xi—the great systematizer, synthesizer, and reviver of Confucianism—discusses the epistemological role of li with reference to the early idea of rites, or rules of propriety (li 禮). Through intertextuality, he creates an interrelationship between his text and the Analects (Lunyu 論語). This intertextuality generates an interrelated understanding in order to influence the reader, and add layers of depth and credibility to his text, based on the readers’ prior knowledge and understanding. Zhu Xi alludes in the passage to Analects 12.1: Do not look unless it is in accordance with propriety rules; do not listen unless it is in accordance with propriety rules; do not speak unless it is in accordance with propriety rules; do not move unless it is in accordance with propriety rules.

Readers not familiar with Zhu Xi’s work may suspect that the above passage is a dogmatic statement on normative rules, commanding us on how to look, how to listen, how to move, and so on. However, with some familiarity with the humanistic way of Analects, the suggestion that propriety rules suggest a system of dogmatic, inflexible commands and rigid institutional orders collapses. In the above passage, Zhu Xi shifts attention to focus on the essential role played by the connectedness of inner and outer, through the correlation between li as coherence, and the rules of propriety as the rules of the human mind. In doing so, he alludes to the fact that, while functioning as a frame of knowledge, li can neither be read as Platonic idea, or as Kantian noumenon that can be known (if at all) by pure rationalistic means, completely independent from senses and experience, and linked (in the Kantian version) to an unknowable “thing-in-itself” (ding an sich). In this case, functioning as a standard to increase knowledge and transcend accepted conceptual boundaries, li, like the rules of propriety, is also immanent, and enables the internalization of the Confucian form of life. In this way, Zhu Xi calls his readers to see the role of li as organizing data into stable knowledge of the world. Through the parallelism between li 理 to Analects li 禮 (propriety), Zhu Xi brings the epistemological role of li 理 to its full normative significance. When he extends and refines the original idea of rules of propriety by means of li, he espouses to not merely know the world. Rather, he renews the call for knowing a “li 禮-world,” or the world as known through coherence and organization (li 理). Knowing a “li-­ world” signifies that through li the world is seen and known. When li dictates certain modes of behavior, the world manifests itself through these modes. For example, when li orders hierarchy, the world as known is hierarchical. Hence, in regard to humans, li tells us something about the forms in which sense-data is organized in the human world, and how those forms relate to us. The idea that li is the more elaborate Neo-Confucian version of the normative power of propriety is significant both from the hermeneutical perspective, and the pragmatic perspective of understanding the application of the conflicting nature of Confucian discourse on the human mind. In this way, Zhu Xi, at once renovates Confucian terminology, while

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relating it with the tradition of Analects, to offer a Confucian response to the universal epistemological challenge of setting categories for knowledge. In doing so, Zhu takes up early Confucianism as understood by his predecessor, Zhou Dunyi, who relates older rules of propriety to the idea of coherence of his own time, when stating that “rules of propriety [are used to] organize” (li liye 禮理 也). Zhou Dunyi straightforwardly identifies rules of propriety as organization such that, in fact, “rules of propriety are li” (Zhou 1937a: 13). Following a line in which Zhu Xi draws from Confucius and Mencius to Zhou Dunyi, the nuanced epistemological idea of li allows Zhu Xi to refer to that which is inherent in the rules of propriety as the source of cognition in the human world. Li as the coherence of knowledge is described in Cheng Chung-ying’s words as the “ascendancy of propriety-li 禮 as li 理” as two organizations of harmonization. Propriety-li is, in this sense, inclusive. As such, it is the essence, the li 理, of the human mind. In this way, human reasoning embodies the meaning of natural organization, as well as its normative principles (Cheng 2000: 63–64). The epistemology of li, according to Zhu Xi, serves the Confucian teaching to function as a guide for daily living. Li, then, is revealed to be a principal normative authority in Confucian life as a whole, in regard to the human condition and predisposition. Accordingly, our knowledge of natural harmony, political order, and personal morality is revealed as different manifestations of li–qi interactions. As can be seen above in Zhu Xi’s reference to li as the mind’s learning of Taiji, li is tightly connected to our cognition, comprehension, and knowledge of the world we live in. Li embodies the sense of Lewis’s “conceptualistic pragmatism” in Mind and the World Order (Lewis 1956). In line with Lewis’s view, knowledge depends upon qi as “given” for Zhu Xi. Yet the constructive activity of the mind reflecting world order is the work of li as coherence. Our knowledge as products of our experiences is not a priori in the sense of being dictated to us; they are a priori in a pragmatic sense. Qi as pure given is not even a possible object of knowledge without a conceptual system of li. In this way, Zhu Xi’s li combines internal-rationalistic and realist-naturalistic elements in order to allow knowledge of the real without recourse to transcendental guarantees. Berthrong sees “the key to Zhu’s epistemology” in: The myriad things each set forth one coherent li and the myriad li commonly emerge from one source. This is the reason we can extend from this and comprehend [everything]. (Zhu 2002: [6] 525. See Adler 2014: 160)

The epistemology directly derived from the metaphysical necessitates an interconnectedness between the li of the world as its order, and the li of one’s understanding as coherence. This also demands a practical outcome of living in a “li-world.” As part of the cosmic process of li–qi dynamic creation, we all are possessors of li and qi. This allows us, upon keen reflection, to better relate to the world order. Relating better to the world we live in amounts to improving our knowledge through li as coherence both derived from and contributing to li as order. In this picture, similar to a game and its players, li functions as a whole system which includes a framework of rules and organization; to use a Wittgensteinean term, a “form of life” (lebensform) that is never independent from the existence of events, objects, creatures, or

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feelings that actually exist, are known, and practiced. From the epistemological perspective, li conceptually exists before qi. Qi, however, is necessary for cognition as its basic data cannot be distinct from the stuff that fills the world. This may explain why qi is not discussed in this context separately. While the cosmic process demands li–qi dynamism, cognition and knowledge are, for Zhu Xi, the works of li. Zhu Xi’s li–qi epistemology demands that the nature of knowledge, justification, and rationality of belief refer not only to knowledge by description but also necessarily to knowledge by (direct) acquaintance too, as knowledge submits to both the sense-data of the phenomenal world, and to one’s own private inner experiences. Using Gilbert Ryle’s terminology, it is a “knowledge-that” or “propositional knowledge,” as well as a “knowledge-how” (Ryle 1945–1946: 1–16). Indeed, knowledge-­ how consists of some sort of ability, and knowledge-that consists of some sort of disposition. Yet for Zhu Xi, these are not distinct kinds of knowledge. Knowing the appropriate facts about how to do something is not sufficient for knowing how to exercise that knowledge. Yet when metaphysics and epistemology submit to the li– qi system, knowledge is necessary. Knowledge is one, such that metaphysics and epistemology are interdependent.13 The li of something brings about knowing how to embody that knowledge in qi. To know how to do something is to know the appropriate sort of fact about it. In this way, knowledge requires a prior implicit or explicit consideration of a proposition, not as a type of Socratic “intellectualism,” but rather as informed internal realism. The metaphysical–epistemological unity does not close the roles of li and qi in Zhu Xi’s philosophy. Categories for human knowledge in particular include moral knowledge, in which li and qi play special roles. In the Confucian case, this knowledge cannot be distinguished from morality.

4 Guiding Principle and Vital Power: A Moral Facet of Li and Qi According to Zhu Xi, li functions as an extension of rules of propriety. This fact alone places the discourse regarding li within the moral sphere. This idea comes to Zhu Xi via the Cheng brothers—Cheng Hao 程顥 (1032–1085) and Cheng Yi, who inherited the notion from Zhou Dunyi’s reference to li in the traditional context of morality as one of the five cardinal virtues. In the moral context, li and propriety are equated: The virtues, when they appear as love are called humanity, when as doing right are called rightness, when as li are called rules of propriety (li yue li 理曰禮), when as comprehensiveness are called wisdom, when as protection are called trust. (Zhou 1937a: 3.3)

 For the “onto-epistemological” perspective of Confucianism, see Cheng (2000). The following understanding is in line with Cheng Chung-ying “Onto-hermenuitics.” See Cheng (2000). Also see Patt-Shamir (2007–2008). 13

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Zhu Xi, in his commentary, affirms that li, at least from the human perspective, is part of one’s moral attainment. Virtues can appear in various forms in our experiences. When experienced as li, they represent a definitive moral practice. While the epistemological discussion accentuates both propriety and li as “rules of the game,” the relationship between li and humanity (ren 仁) that is derived from that of propriety and humanity, brings a unique moral significance, since in this way morality is inherent in our epistemological categories, such that we cannot perceive the world except through moral categories. Zhu Xi follows an early Confucian line that reached his writings through the Cheng brothers’ response to the question that emerges from the passage cited above: what does not looking, listening, speaking, or moving in accordance to propriety amount to? If one does not look, listen, speak, or move in violation of principle, that is propriety, for propriety is none other than principle. What is not of the principle of Nature (tian li 天理) is of human (selfish) desire. In that case, even if one has the intention to do good, it will still be contrary to propriety. When there is no human (selfish) desire, then all will be the Principle of Nature. (Cheng and Cheng 1965: [15] 1b, attributed to Cheng Yi; Chan 1963: 553)

Credited as the first to offer a systematized philosophy of li, the Chengs (in particular, Cheng Yi) identify rules of propriety and li, stating explicitly that first, not deviating from li is, in fact, not deviating from the rules of propriety. Moreover, deviation from li is desirous or selfish. In other words, not acting according to li is equivalent to not caring about others, or not being moral. Morality clearly appears as part of the natural order. Li is again given to us, yet this time it is given to us as a task. If one wishes to do good, but instead deviates from propriety and thus from li, it is a sign that one’s desires are still active as part of one’s qi endowment and its “impurities.” Thus, according to Zhu’s view qi is at least partially responsible for evil too. The problem of evil, however, can be solved through the distinction between heavenly nature (tiandi zhi xing 天地之性) and physical nature (qizhi zhixing 氣質 之性) according to which the original mind is endowed by heavenly principle and is pure and good, while human mind, when manifested in feelings results in desires, connected with qi. When stained by desires, the original goodness is veiled. According to Zhu’s analogy, like a precious pearl in murky water goodness can be recovered with earnest effort (jing 敬) and constant returning to investigating things, that brings back to the li of things (Zhu 1970: 12.8. See Huang S. 1999: 153–56). If one looks, listens, speaks, and acts according to li, one may overcome selfishness, develop care for others, and move closer to the principle of nature: the “heavenly principle” (tianli 天理) that governs human morality. As li is the principle which rules moral consciousness, qi, in this context, can be compared to Henri Bergson’s elan vital—translated as “vital impetus” or “vital force,” and closely linked with consciousness, intuitive perception of experience, and the flow of inner time. Qi in this case can be seen as crude moral potentiality before it is processed through the workings of li as moral principle. As li is for humans the principle of morality, Zhu follows his predecessors and comments on the first part of Analects 12.1, in which Confucius responds to Yan

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Hui’s straightforward question of “what is humanity?” by means of the ambiguous directive: “conquer oneself and return to propriety.” Zhu paraphrases the Master’s words as follows: If we can overcome and eliminate selfishness and return to the principle of Heaven, then the substance of the mind (that is humanity) will be present everywhere and its function will always be operative. (Zhu Renshuo 仁說; Chan 1963: 594)

Leaning on the terminological foundation set by Zhou Dunyi and followed by the Cheng brothers, by identifying propriety with li, Zhu Xi replaces Confucius’ idea of being human by returning to propriety with the idea of one’s “returning to the principle of Heaven.” By using “the principle of Heaven,” or of nature, rather than principle alone, the moral-pragmatic imperative clearly enters the meta-­ epistemological picture of li. The way to attain humanity (as a particular moral virtue) is by returning to li, as directly related to Heaven. In this way, li is related to morality as “the substance of the mind” (xinti 心體). In Zhu Xi’s humanistic outlook, li embodies human virtue manifested in the moral skills with which we meet life, such that the power of li is not external, yet governs human practice. The power inherent in humans can only be fully attained through moral practice and actual deeds in the world. Hence, as Berthrong suggests “in terms of the person, li is called xing 性,” as “the disposition of the maturing person” (Berthrong 2010: 157). For Zhu Xi, human nature is the principle of human life, and life’s moral potentiality is qi. Lokuang adds that a particular person becomes that person because of the li followed by the appropriate qi. Hence, qi is the factor that enables the many, and thus “in this way of speaking qi determines li” (Lokuang 1986: 66). In this sense, with respect to the diversity of human behaviors, qi can be viewed as prior to li, as the potentiality that, prior to its embodiment in moral principle is bound to go astray by external influences and desire, which in itself is amoral, prior to realizing its moral potentiality in its entirety. Interestingly, the epistemological “myriad li” as the mind, is revealed as moral li of the virtuous mind which would have nothing to adhere to without qi. The pragmatic aspect of the li–qi relationship is required in order to act, carry out moral cultivation, and to properly engage in the world (See Berthrong 2005: 257– 78). In this way, human nature is reflected as the patterning aspect of ceaseless productivity taught by the Book of Changes (Yijing 易經). It is in the very changing and transforming of heaven that everything obtains its proper place (See Chen 1986: 70–71). In this respect, Zhang Liwen suggests that: In Zhu Xi’s account, dao 道 and taiji 太極 are equivalent. He notes: “The trigrams and their explanations and yin and yang are perceptible forms; their patterning (li 理) is a guiding standard (dao 道),” and “yin and yang energy (qi 氣) have a form.” Hence, an order whereby yin and yang move back and forth without end is what is meant by dao. (Zhang 2015: 36)14

Li as patterning dao, defines the person according to what one ought to be, or could ultimately be, rather than simply according to the natural endowment of qi as “buds” 14

 For more on the important relation to dao, see Zhang (2015: 36–44).

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to be cultivated by li. In the Mencian spirit of 2A.2, qi embodies the full potentiality for moral cultivation, through the shaping and reshaping of qi by li as moral principle. Zhu Xi states that li is that “each one has reasons why it is what it is and the norm by which it ought to be” (Zhu 2002: [6] 512; See Berthrong 2010: 159). The opposition between li and qi has important methodological merit. With this opposition, Zhu Xi can explain the difference between humankind and things. Indeed, qi is essentially one and yet, it varies in terms of the purity or impurity of its embodiments, whereas li is inherently one and yet, differences appear due to the completeness or partiality in its various realizations (Zhu 1977: [49] 7a; Chan 1963: 637). With regard to morality, Zhu follows the Cheng brothers’ understanding that human qi is purer than that of other creatures, hence they can be more responsible for their deeds. However, the level of morality is a manifestation of a the completeness of li; the more complete li is in oneself, the more moral one is.15 While Zhu admits that one is obliged to say that in regard to their origin, li is prior (See Chiu 1986: 117), the inability to speak of li and qi in terms of priority and posteriority in the moral context is stated by Zhu as follows: Li is not a separate entity, it exists right in qi. Without qi, li would have nothing to adhere to. As qi there are the Agents of Metal, Wood, Water and Fire. As li, there are humanity, righteousness, propriety and wisdom. (Zhu 1977: [49] 1b; Chan 1963: 634)

Qi is now discussed straightforwardly in terms of (four out of) the “Five Phases:” Li is their embodiment in (four out of) the “Five Constant Virtues” (wuchang 五常).16 Li as moral principle is thus immanent (“not a separate entity”), and qi in the human world is the basic tendency or drive for moral virtues that li actualizes and cultivates. In regard to humans, there is a particular li in everyone. In other words, every person embodies li as nature. Morally cultivating one’s qi is the realization of the moral principle through virtuous practice. Self-realization as the process of becoming a sage requires knowledge embodied in one’s nature (See Adler 2014: 19). The principle that guides world structure as order, and guides a person to coherence of knowledge is one, and is revealed in human activity as morality, such that according to Zhu: There is no other way to investigate li to the utmost than to pay attention to everything in our daily reading of books and handling of affairs. (Zhu 1977: [3] 33b; Chan 1963: 610)

Li as guiding principle directly related to Taiji and dao already exists in the world, and nothing else must be done (or can be done) except to look within and reflect. Then, personal morality brings socio-political order and world harmony together as one. The epistemological relationship between li and qi is explicated by Zhu Xi in value terms: “that which is inherent in things is li” and “that by which things are managed is moral principles” (Zhu 1977: [4] 20b; Chan 1963: 571). The implication is twofold. First, the Ultimate (as Taiji) is a value, not a “pure” fact (or that value is

15 16

 For more perspective on the issue, see Chiu (1986: 130–31) and Huang Y. (2014: 150–54).  Among the virtues, trust is missing, and among the phases, earth is missing.

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a fact).17 Second, metaphysics cannot be “beyond” the physical in the full sense of being beyond human (in line with Mou Zongsan’s idea of “immanent transcendence”).18 Human lives and practices deserve to be considered seriously in philosophical discussions, and this certainly includes philosophical grounding. The data of our perception inherently convey moral potentiality and drives that must be cultivated by moral practice, similarly to the Mencian “four beginnings” (siduan 四端, Mencius 2A.6). The data of our perceptions inherently convey moral potentiality and must be cultivated by moral practice, into the “four beginnings” that should be cultivated by every individual. Since the world we live in is a moral world, when li orders moral behavior in personal, social, political, and religious contexts, it is through the cultivating of qi that we become moral. Accordingly, when we refer to humans, li–qi dynamics tell us something not only about organization and sense-­ data of the world, but also about morality as principle and pragmatic motivation that can be actualized through that principle. This is the reason why we cannot perceive the world except through moral categories. Accordingly, li is morally constitutive as well. Li is the framework of moral knowledge and the foundation of moral certainties, as well as the guide to appropriate conduct when embodied in qi. Considering li with a new, extended definition which aligns with rules of moral propriety, we realize that since moral categories are innate in our perception of the world, we cannot reflect or react to events except through moral judgments, feelings, and deeds. Through cultivating our moral qi, morality becomes a reality. Learning morality is the human practice of experiencing the Way as a manifestation of li–qi, thus bridging the mundane and the ultimate. In this way, morality embodies the ultimate and reveals its own foundation. Cultivating morality through li (practiced through rules of propriety) applies a moral perspective to the ontology of li. This brings us back to Zhu Xi’s metaphysics as a “sense of metaphysics,” such that li–qi dynamics present our world—as existence, cognition, and morality—as its own not-strictly-metaphysical foundation. Rather, it is more than a metaphysical foundation.

5 Conclusion: Metaphysics and Beyond Li and qi can be presented as Zhu Xi’s “metaphysics” in one sense only: the broadest sense in which metaphysics is a “foundation.” According to my understanding of Zhu Xi’s ideas, just as metaphysics assigns the significance of a system of principles underlying the study, in Confucianism, this system of principles is li and its varied relations with qi. Li–qi relatedness changes character in its varied functions, as metaphysical, epistemological, and moral. In this way, Zhu Xi’s philosophy of process leaves no room for fundamental dualism (see Berthrong 2005). Through li’s  For a comprehensive discussion of the is–ought relationship in Zhu’s holistic philosophy, and how it refers back to li, see Meng (2015: 273–97). 18  See more in Lin and Zhou (1995). 17

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relationship with qi, “metaphysics” enters the world we live in, as immanent and pragmatic. Thus, the original significance as a study of what is outside experience, the “science” that studies “being as such,” or “the first causes of things,” or “things that do not change” is lost.19 Zhu Xi’s study is the investigation into the basic categories of being, and how they relate to one another as the foundation for our world and life, which is embodied in life itself. Rather than a “Grand Metaphysical Theory,” this foundation is instead the “building blocks” of our world and life. It is ontology as well as the events. It is epistemology as well as perceptions. It is ethics as well as actions. Zhu Xi’s “sense of metaphysics” of li and qi has the merit of safeguarding Confucianism against epistemological and moral absurdities, which are bound to occur when each of the systems of justification receives different reasoning. Philosophical schools attempt to assure beliefs by means that are too numerous to recount here: Platonic ideas, mental representations, empiricist correspondence theories, rationalistic coherence theories, monisms and dualisms. Each distinct theory falls short on either relativistic or absolutistic grounds. To a large extent, in the idea of unified li–qi system of process, Zhu Xi employs common sense and avoids metaphysical, epistemological, and moral paradoxes. Assuming an inherent dynamism between li and qi, the fundamental creative process in the universe is taken metaphysically as a process of actualizing qi as raw stuff shaped by li as pattern and order. Epistemologically, it is a process of decoding qi as sense-data through li as coherence and organization of knowledge. Morally, it is the process of embodying qi as vital power through ongoing self-cultivation guided by li as moral principle. The relatedness of li and qi with Taiji as the ultimate unified creative process itself prohibits the possibility of an essential categorical distinction between ultimate being and human highest good. According to this system of thought, the strict dichotomy between human and non-human spheres is neither possible from a practicable perspective nor necessary for explanatory purposes. In this way, the ontology of li–qi necessitates the only perspective we have—the human perspective. The foundation for humanity has to do with human cognition and practice. Li is the foundation of human life such that humanity reveals its own foundation. It cannot, and does not have to, be found externally. Due to the conception of li–qi dynamics as universal order and stuff, as coherence and sense-data, as well as moral principle and vital power, Zhu Xi is free from bearing the burden of searching for external justifications for morality in the form of an exclusive metaphysical theory. Morality is inherent in the human epistemological framework that is part of the universal natural process which has metaphysical significance. Yet it is independent of anything that can be understood as external to the world in which we live. This “sense of metaphysics” does not imply any sort of positivistic rejection to metaphysics of the type which blames it in unscientific discourse, in not developing new knowledge, or in seeing metaphysical statements as “cognitively meaningless,” since they are empirically verifiable. Nor is there a  See “Metaphysics,” written by van Inwagen and Sullivan (First published in 2007; revised in 2014) in Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy (https://plato.stanford.edu/entries/metaphysics/) 19

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sort of Quinean rejection based on the claim that science alone provides genuine knowledge. Instead, it calls for exploring the significance of metaphysical ideas and terminology in human life. Zhu Xi’s li–qi “sense of metaphysics” as the process of realizing Taiji in the human world implies that the ultimate inherently exists in human cognition and human morality, and the ways in which we broaden them. As qi is to be cultivated by li, it is our task to cultivate it in ourselves. The human way to cultivate it is through moral cultivation. In this way, the answer for what is right and what is wrong, as well as for why be moral, is that this world is our world, the only world we may know, and this moral life is the only one we may live. We change and transform, perceive and reflect, feel and act in this world. Neville writes: By Metaphysics is meant the study of the defining characters of reality, of what it means to be determinate at all, to be something. Metaphysics is the study of what makes beings beings. (Neville 2000: 130)

For Zhu Xi, the defining characteristic of reality, of being “something,” is the profound recognition that this “something” is human. The study of making human beings into human beings involves more than just metaphysics. Zhu Xi’s li–qi foundation for Confucianism is a foundation for reality—as the life humans live, merging from the ongoing process of li–qi realizations. It is a defense of realism, or of the view that ordinarily, both epistemological and moral assertions of the Way are objectively valid. Like most realists, Zhu upheld the possibility of knowledge such that li–qi specific realizations distinguish between knowledge and belief, convention, dogma, and superstition. His commitment to realism is, however, always self-­ reflective and self-critical, such that the ontological commitment is always internal to a conceptual scheme. In this sense his li–qi foundation can be described a type of internal realism, involving a commitment to the idea that reality is morally and epistemically constrained. In this way, Zhu’s Li–qi dynamics provide a foundation for reality such that meanings cannot merely exist “just in the head,” and yet, that they also have pragmatic (internal) value. Like internal realist, Zhu Xi accepts both a realist ontology and an internal-pragmatic theory of coherence, never losing contact with reality.

References Adler, Joseph A. 2014. Reconstructing the Confucian Dao: Zhu Xi’s Appropriation of Zhou Dunyi. Albany: State University of New York Press. (A comprehensive survey of Zhu Xi’s role as interpreter.) Angle, Stephen C. 2015. “Zhu Xi’s Virtue Ethics and the Grotian Challenge.” In David Jones and Jinli He, eds., Returning to Zhu Xi: Emerging Patterns Within the Supreme Polarity, 253–272. New York: SUNY. (An insightful article on Zhu Xi’s ethics and its relation to metaphysics.) Baba, Eiho. 2015. “Li as Emergent Patterns of Qi: A Nonreductive Interpretations.” David Jones and Jinli He, eds., In Returning to Zhu Xi: Emerging Patterns Within the Supreme Polarity, 197–227. New York: SUNY. (An insightful perspective on li–qi relatedness.) Berthrong, John. 1998. Transformations of the Confucian Way. New York: Perseus Books

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———. 2005. “Inventing Zhu XI: Process of principle.” Journal of Chinese Philosophy 32.2: 257–279. (A perceptive explication of Zhu Xi’s philosophy of Process.) ———, 2010. “Zhu Xi’s Cosmology.” In John Makeham, ed., Dao Companion to Neo-Confucian Philosophy. Dordrecht: Springer. (A Unifying perspective of Zhu Xi’s main metaphysical ideas). Bol, Peter K. 1992. This Culture of Ours. Intellectual Transitions in T’ang and Sung China. Stanford: Stanford University Press. (A far-ranging and insightful survey of Chinese elite culture from seventh to twelfth century.) Bruce, J. Percy. 1923. Chu Hsi and His Masters. London: Probsthan and Co. (A comprehensive survey of the background, motivations and sources to Zhu Xi’s thought.) Chan, Wing-tsit. 1963. A Source Book in Chinese Philosophy. Princeton: Princeton University Press. ———. 1967. Reflections on Things at Hand: the Neo-Confucian Anthology. New York: Columbia University Press. Chen, Chun. 1986. Neo-Confucian Terms Explained. New York: Columbia University Press. (An insightful explication of Song–Ming Confucian Terminology.) Cheng, Chung-ying. 1991. New Dimensions in Confucianism and Neo-Confucianism. New York: SUNY Press. (A Far-ranging and insightful survey of Confucian thought throughout the tradition.) ———. 2000. “Confucian Onto-Hermeneuitics: Morality and Ontology.” Journal of Chinese Philosophy 27.1: 33–68. (A speculative philosophical article on the relation between ethics and metaphysics in Confucianism.) Chiu, Hansheng. 1986. “Zhu Xi’s Doctrine of Principle.” In Chan Wing-tsit, ed., Chu Hsi and Neo Confucianism. Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press. (A clarifying prospect on the centrality of li in Zhu Xi’s thought.) Chow, Kai-wing. 1993. “Ritual, Cosmology and Ontology: Chang Tsai’s (1020–1077) Moral Philosophy and Neo-Confucian Ethics.” Philosophy East and West 43.2: 201–228. Cheng, Hao 程顥, and Cheng Yi 程頤. 1965. The Complete Works of the Two Chengs 二程全書. Sibu beiyao 四部備要 edition. Taipei 臺北: Zhonghua Shuju 中華書局. Feng, Youlan. 1938. A History of Chinese Philosophy, translated by Bodde Derk. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Henderson, John B. 1984. The Development and Decline of Chinese Cosmology. New  York: Columbia University Press. (A comprehensive research on the influence of Cosmological ideas on Chinese culture.) Huang, Siuchi. 1968. “Chang Tsai’s Concept of Ch’i.” Philosophy East and West 18: 247–260. ———. 1999. Essentials of Neo-Confucianism—Eight Major Philosophers of the Song and Ming Periods. Westport: Greenwood Press. (An analysis the major Neo-Confucian philosophers, focusing on metaphysical, epistemological, and ethical perspectives.) Huang, Yong. 2014. Why Be Moral? Learning from the Neo-Confucian Cheng Brothers. New York: SUNY Press. Hume, David. 1978. A Treatise of Human Nature, edited by L.A. Selby-Bigge. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Kant, Emannuel. 1929. Critique of Pure Reason, edited by Norman Kemp Smith. New  York: Palgrave Macmillan. Kim, Yung Sik. 2015. “Zhu Xi on Scientific and Occult Subjects: Defining and Extending the Boundaries of Confucian Learning.” In David Jones and Jinli He, eds., Returning to Zhu Xi: Emerging Patterns Within the Supreme Polarity, 121–147. New York: SUNY. (The re-defining of the boundaries of Confucian learning by Zhu Xi.) Legge, James. 1961. The Chinese Classics, 5 vols., reprint. Hong Kong: Hong Kong University Press. Lewis, Clarence I. 1956. Mind and the World Order: An Outline of a Theory of Knowledge. New York: Dover Publications, Inc. Lin, Tongqi, and Zhou Qin. 1995. “The Dynamism and Tension in the Anthropocosmic Vision of Mou Zongsan.” Journal of Chinese Philosophy 22.4: 401–440.

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Liu, Shu-hsien. 1998. Understanding Confucian Philosophy: Classical and Sung–Ming. Westport.: Greenwood. (A Far-ranging and insightful survey of Chinese thought throughout the tradition.) ———. 2003. “Zhu Xi (Chu Hsi).” In Antonio S. Cua, eds., Encyclopedia of Chinese Philosophy, 895–902. New York: Routledge. (A wonderful introduction to the various perspectives of Zhu Xi’s philosophy.) Liu, Jeeloo. 2005. “The Status of Cosmic Principle (Li) in Neo-Confucian Metaphysics.” Journal of Chinese Philosophy 32: 391–407. (An analysis of the supremacy of li in Neo-Confucian Thought.) Locke, John. 1894. An Essay Concerning Human Understanding, vol. 1, edited by Alexander Campbell Fraser. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Lokuang, Stanislaus. 1986. “Chu Hsi’s Theory of Metaphysical Structure.” In Chan Wing-tsit, eds., Chu Hsi and Neo Confucianism. Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press. (The essence of Zhu Xi’s cosmological and ontological views.) McMorran, Ian. 1975. “Wang Fu-chih and the Neo-Confucian Tradition.” In Wm. Theodore de Bary, ed., The Unfolding of Neo-Confucianism. New York: Columbia University Press. Metzger, Thomas A. 1977. Escape from Predicament: Neo-Confucianism and China’s Evolving Political Culture. New York: Columbia University Press. Meng, Peiyuan. 2015. “How to Unite Is and Ought: An Explanation Regarding the Work of Master Zhu.” In David Jones and He Jinli, eds., Returning to Zhu Xi: Emerging Patterns Within the Supreme Polarity, 273–298. New York; SUNY. Needham, Joseph. 1956. History of Scientific Thought, vol. 2 of Science and Civilisation in China. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Neville, Robert C. 2000. Boston Confucianism: Portable Tradition in the Late Modern World. New York: State University of New York Press. Patt-Shamir, Galia. 2004. “Moral World, Ethical Terminology—The Moral Significance of Metaphysical Terms in Zhou Dunyi and Zhu Xi.” Journal of Chinese Philosophy 31.3: 349– 362. (A perspective on the inherent relatedness between metaphysical terminology and moral praxis.) ———. 2005. “The Effectiveness of Contradiction in Understanding Human Practice: A Rhetoric of ‘Goal-Ideal’ in Confucianism.” Journal of Chinese Philosophy. 32.3: 455–476. ———. 2007–2008. “From Li to Li: A Pragmatistic Implication on Cheng Chung-ying’s Onto-Hermeneutics.” In Ng On-cho, ed., The Imperative of Reading: Chinese Philosophy, Comparative Philosophy, and Onto-Hermeneutics, 156–173. New  York: Global Scholarly Publications. (Explaining the special relatedness between propriety and principle.) Putnam, Hilary. 1977. “Realism and Reason.” Proceedings and Addresses of the American Philosophical Association 50.6: 483–498. Ryle, Gilbert. 1945–1946. “Knowing How and Knowing That: The Presidential Address” Proceedings of the Aristotelian Society. 46: 1–16. Smith, Kidder Jr., Peter K. Bol, Joseph A. Adler, Don J. Wyatt, 1990. Sung Dynasty Uses of the I Ching. Princeton: Princeton University Press. (The importance of the philosophy of Change in the development of Song Confucianism.) T’ang, Chün-i. 1956. “Chang Tsai’s Theory of Mind and Its Metaphysical Basis.” Philosophy East and West 6.2: 113–136. Thompson, Kirill O. 2015. “Opposition and Complementarity in Zhu Xi’s Thought.” In “Zhu Xi’s Metaphysics.” In David Jones and Jinli He, eds., Returning to Zhu Xi: Emerging Patterns within the Supreme Polarity, 149–176. (The dialectics of Zhu Xi’s philosophy of process.) van Inwagen, Peter, and Meghan Sullivan. 2014. “Metaphysics.” Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy. https://plato.stanford.edu/entries/metaphysics Yu, David. 1959. A Comparative Study of the Metaphysics of Chu Hsi and Whitehead. Chicago: University of Chicago dissertation. (Zhu Xi’s philosophy explained in process philosophical terms.)

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Yu, Yamanoi. 1986. “The Great Ultimate and Heaven in Chu hsi’s Philosophy.” Chan Wing-tsit, ed., In Chu Hsi and Neo Confucianism. Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press. (The relationships between the different ideas of ultimate in Zhu Xi’s thought.) Zhang, Liwen. 2015. “Zhu Xi’s Metaphysics.” In David Jones and Jinli He, eds., Returning to Zhu Xi—Emerging Patterns Within the Supreme Polarity, 15–50. New York: SUNY. (An insightful exposition of Zhu Xi’s metaphysical philosophy and the relatedness between different metaphysical terms.) Zhou, Dunyi 周敦頤. 1937a. The Penetrating Book 通書. In Zhang Boxing, ed., Zhou Lianxi xiansheng Quanji 周濂溪先生全集 Section 5, Guoxue jiben Congshu 國學基本叢書. Shanghai 上 海: Shangwu yinshuguan 商務印書館. ———. 1937b. Diagram of the Supreme Polarity Explained 太極圖説. In Zhang Boxing, ed., Zhou Lianxi xiansheng quanji 周濂溪先生全集 Section 1. Guoxuse Jiben Congshu 國學基本 叢書. Shanghai: Shangwuyin shuguan. Zhu, Xi 朱熹. 1970. Classified Conversations of Master Zhu 朱子語類, 140 sections. Comp. by disciples (1270). Taipei 臺北: Zheng-Zhong Book Co. 正中書局. ———. 1977. The Complete Works of Zhu Xi 朱子全書, comp. by Li Guangdi 李光地 (1714), 2 vols. Taipei 臺北: Guangxue 廣學社. (This edition of the 朱子全書 is included in the Siqu quanshu 四庫全書, and can be accessed at http://ctext.org/library.pl?if=en&res=999) ———. 2002. The Complete Works of Zhu Xi 朱子全書, edited by Zhu Jieren 朱傑人, Yan Zuozhi 嚴佐之, and Liu Yongxiang 劉永翔, 27 vols. Shanghai 上海: Shanghai Guji Chubanshe 上海 古籍出版社. Ziporyn, Brook. 2013. Beyond Oneness and Difference: Li and Coherence in Chinese Buddhist Thought and Its Antecedents. New York: SUNY Press. Galia Patt-Shamir is a professor of philosophy at Tel-Aviv University. Her research focuses on comparative philosophy, applied philosophy and Neo-­ Confucianism. She has published To Broaden the Way: A Confucian-Jewish Dialogue; Human Nature in Chinese Philosophy (in Hebrew) and Tongshu – Text, Commentary, Interpretation (in Hebrew).  

Chapter 13

Zhu Xi’s Metaphysical Theory of Human Nature Junghwan Lee

1 Introduction The Chinese philosophical inquiry of human nature began with Mencius’ argument that “human nature is [morally] good” (xing shan 性善). This descriptive definition inevitably leads to a fundamental question: If human nature is [morally] good, why are there human beings who are not so moral? Mencius’ apparently counterintuitive description immediately provoked objections and counterarguments, resulted in the emergence of diverse alternative views, and thus made human nature one of the foremost subjects in premodern Chinese philosophy. More than one and half millennia after Mencius, the first orthodox, and most enduring, view on human nature was formulated by Zhu Xi 朱熹 (1130–1200). This chapter explores how Zhu’s theory of human nature substantiates Mencius’ argument, and thus addresses diverse inherent problems, as detailed below, such as its distinction from the notion of inborn-ness (sheng 生) in general, its conceptual contradiction with the manifestation of interpersonal disparities in moral character, its incompatibility with ought-nesses, causes of immorality, and its potential endorsement of moral subjectivism. Mencius himself engaged with some of these debates, but his empirically oriented approach is unavoidably vulnerable to counterevidence. To defend Mencius’ moral definition of human nature, Zhu constructs a grand-­ scale metaphysical system. He believes his theory will bring an end to these ongoing disputes. He ascribes this great philosophical achievement to his forerunners in the Neo-Confucian tradition, which endorsed the inborn morality of human nature as a principal doctrinal underpinning. Particularly, he cites his indebtedness to Zhou Dunyi’s 周敦頤 (1017–1073) Explanation of the Diagram of the Great J. Lee (*) Department of Aesthetics, Seoul National University, Seoul, South Korea e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2020 K.-c. Ng, Y. Huang (eds.), Dao Companion to ZHU Xi’s Philosophy, Dao Companions to Chinese Philosophy 13, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-29175-4_13

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Ultimate (Taijitu shuo 太極圖說), Cheng Yi’s 程頤 (1033–1107) redefinition “human nature is principle.” (xing ji li 性卽理), and Zhang Zai’s 張載 (1020–1077) “embodied nature” (qi zhi zhi xing 氣質之性) (Zhu 2001c: [10] 478). In addition, Zhu establishes the concept of the unity of nature mainly by integrating Cheng’s claim that “there is absolutely nothing outside human nature” (wu xing wai zhi wu 無性外之物) with Zhou’s notion of the Great Ultimate. His humble acknowledgement, however, also implies the inadequacy of each of the former theories in demonstrating the moral goodness of human nature. Zhu is often called a synthesizer, but it is by way the most thorough reinterpretation, reconceptualization, and reconstruction. In Zhu’s metaphysical scheme, the morality of human nature is a metaphysical truth, insusceptible to anything extraneous to “human nature itself” (ben ran zhi xing 本然之性; lit., human nature in the original state). The dualism of principle and the physical (li qi 理氣) is the most essential premise of his entire metaphysical system.1 As the thesis “human nature is good” is replaced with Cheng Yi’s redefinition “human nature is principle,” the connotations of principle such as universality, objectivity, and, more importantly, normativity are all incorporated into the concept of human nature. By definition, the concept of human nature is then converted from one’s moral potential to the universal and objective source of “righteous principles and standard norms” (yi li zhun ze 義理準則). In line with this dualism, human nature as principle is separated conceptually and ontologically from all other inborn features such as the functions of sense organs, personal dispositions, and individual moral character, which Zhu attributes to the physical. In so doing, human nature itself and its initial manifestations are further differentiated from the outcomes of its external manifestation, which he characterizes as subject to adulteration by physical elements. Correspondingly, instead of presuming a separate inborn cause, immorality is described as an accidental deviation in a process of external manifestation. In this vein, Zhu includes sensory desires, which have been conventionally designated as the cause of immorality, into the category of human nature by identifying their tendencies to immorality as nonessential deviations. Zhu thus validates the “pure and utmost goodness” of human nature as well as the unity of nature.

2 Inherent Problems 2.1 Mencius’ Descriptive Definition and Objections Mencius’ descriptive definition that human nature is good immediately provoked objections and doubts. First, if all human nature is good, not just for those extraordinary beings like the ancient sages, why are there disparities between individuals

 For the relationships between principle and the physical in Zhu’s metaphysics, see Chap. 12 by Galia Patt-Shamir in this book. 1

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in terms of morality? Do our common observations not show that some are born with morally superior qualities, while others are born morally inferior? Second, Mencius greatly relies on the ideas of inborn-ness and spontaneity. To argue for the moral goodness of human nature, he appeals mainly to empirical evidence such as the “four sprouts” and the “spontaneous and immediate response to a baby crawling toward a well.” However, these are insufficient to prove the thesis that human nature is good. Mental states that spontaneously arise do not always accord with moral standards. We can also infer from this opposite empirical fact that there must be another inborn cause or causes that give rise to morally neutral or bad mental states as well. Therefore, it is arbitrary to associate morally good mental states, exclusively, with human nature (Graham 1989: 128–29). Mencius responded to the first question by dividing inborn features into the distinct categories of moral nature and sensory desires (Mencius 6A.15). He contends that the moral quality of a person is determined after birth, when one has alternatives to choose from in managing one’s own life. Additionally, morality is not merely a volitional choice. It is also contingent on whether the mind properly performs its function in “judging the relative importance of our various appetites and moral inclinations. . . and distinguish[ing] between the nourishing [of the innate potentialities] or the harmful” (Graham 1989: 131–32). Putting aside fundamental questions about the function of the mind in Mencius, and despite many conceptual ambiguities, Mencius’ answer to the first question relies on an ontological division of inborn features. However, this approach cannot provide an answer to the second objection, since his approach arbitrarily defines the core of human nature by only one of its parts. In relation to the second objection, Mencius’ view of the division seems to reduce to a general definition of nature in terms of inborn-ness (Mencius 7B.24). From an empirical standpoint, the spontaneous, natural, and inborn inclinations of sense organs toward certain objects are both more evident than any observation of moral nature, and more congruent with the general definition of nature. In addition, biological desires such as “the desires to eat [when hungry] and to drink [when thirsty]” are indispensable. These desires and inclinations are not directly immoral but may result in the pursuit of self-centered interests. A general conception of human nature, however, does not provide an objective criterion for singling out morality alone as the genuine feature of human nature. It appears rather plausible to say that morality depends more largely on personal moral capacity to choose one feature over another. To say that one should place moral nature above natural inclinations is more normative than descriptive (Mencius 6A.10). This ambivalent underpinning invited subsequent thinkers such as Xunzi 荀子 (c. 310–c. 220 BCE), Dong Zhongshu 董仲舒 (179–104 BCE), Yang Xiong 揚雄 (53 BCE–13 CE), and Han Yu 韓愈 (768–824) to seek alternative views on human nature. Early Neo-Confucian thinkers prior to Zhu Xi strove to substantiate Mencius’ thesis, but they also experienced considerable difficulty, which led some of them to a reluctant compromise. Cheng Hao 程顥 (1032–1085) said, “Human nature is indeed good, but it cannot be said that evil (e 惡) is not human nature” (Cheng and Cheng 1981: [1] 10–11; Graham 1992: 127–37). By the same token, Hu

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Hong 胡宏 (1105–1161) stated, “Human nature is neither good nor evil (Hu 1986: [4] 2b–3a).”2

2.2 Incompatibility with Normativity The foremost problem arising from the descriptive definition that “human nature is [morally] good” consists in its general incompatibility with normativity. “If human nature is morally good, why should we have to do something to be moral?” Mencius might view human nature as incipient potentialities—innately good but imperfect— such that an agent’s engagement is needed to help it “complete its development” (Graham 1989: 131–32; see also Van Norden 2011: 88–90; Ivanhoe 1990: 43–44). Mencius cautiously prescribed this requirement, positioning moral self-cultivation somewhat above indifference but below deliberate activity. Logically, however, moral self-cultivation is necessitated by moral imperfections. Therefore, it seems self-contradictory for a morally defective agent to possess the wherewithal, for example, to discern right/good from wrong/bad or even the motivation for moral cultivation in the first place. Is it being or becoming, that then more accurately describes human nature? More radically, particularly for proponents of Mencius’ argument, the descriptive definition risks promoting moral subjectivism and antinomianism. Suppose that my nature is morally good. Does this mean that everything I currently feel, think, and desire are morally acceptable? In addition, why do we even acknowledge external authorities such as social norms and the teachings of the sages? According to Zhu, this third objection is interrelated with the first two objections introduced above, and all three arise from a deeply-rooted critical misunderstanding, which he labels as the belief that “function is nature” (zuo yong ji xing 作用卽 性). He quotes this phrase from Chan-Buddhist texts and repeatedly identifies it as the bedrock of all Buddhist views on nature (Zhu 1996: [36] 1582; [52] 2606–7; [56] 2865–67; [59] 3080–81; 1986: [12] 230; [57] 1348; [59] 1376–77; [62] 1496; [64] 1599; [95] 2426; [101] 2579; [126] 3021–22).3 More importantly, he also comprehensively encapsulates previous major, but “wrong,” non-Buddhist theories on human nature, by showing their affinity with this belief (Zhu 2002b: [11] 396). Specifically, Zhu extends his criticism, crystalized in this phrase, to prominent disciples of the Cheng brothers like Yang Shi 楊時 (1053–1135), You Zuo 游酢 (1053–1123), and Lü Dalin 呂大臨 (1044–1091). In short, in this simple phrase, Zhu refers to a type of view on human nature, which, he believes, has been entrenched most widely and deeply in all traditions of Confucianism, Neo-Confucianism, and Buddhism.

 For Zhu’s criticism of Hu’s case, see Zhu (1996: [73] 3858–59 and 3862–63).  For the influence of “Function is nature” on Cheng’s disciples, also see Chen and Chan (1986: 54–55). 2 3

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The phrase “function is nature” is described in the Jingde Era Record of the Transmission of the [Dharma] Lamp (hereafter, Record of the Transmission): . . . The king (i.e., King of Heterodoxy [yi jian wang 異見王); allegedly, a nephew of Bodhidharma) got angry and asked, “What is Buddha?” Pradi (allegedly an Indian disciple of Bodhidharma) replied, “Seeing nature is Buddha” (jian xing shi fo 見性是佛). . . . The king asked, “Where is nature?” Pradi replied, “Nature lies in [giving rise to (i.e., manifesting itself through)] functions” (xing zai zuo yong 性在作用). . . . The king asked, “Is it in me?” Pradi replied, “When you, King, function, there is nothing that is not [nature]. When you, King, do not function, its body (ti 體) is harder to see.” . . . Pradi then recited the following gāthā: At a fetus, it is called body; at the world, it is called a human being. At eyes, it is called seeing; at ears, it is called hearing. At a nose, it discerns smells; at mouth, it says and discusses. At hands, it seizes and grabs; at foots, it moves and runs. Universally manifesting, it is wholly connected to as numerous worlds as the sands of Ganges; when withdrawing and converging, it is at one tiny dust. Those who are aware of it know that it is Buddha nature; those who are not aware of it, instead, call it spirit (jing hun 精魂). After the king heard this gāthā, his mind was immediately opened and enlightened. (Daoyuan 2002: [T51n2076] p0218b10[07]– b24[00], Italics added)4

Besides “function is nature,” this conversation also includes the ideas of “seeing nature and achieving the Buddhahood” (jian xing cheng fo 見性成佛)” and “sudden enlightenment” (dun wu 頓悟), which are essential features of Chan Buddhism, suggesting a strong interrelation between a view on nature and methods of actualizing it. The concept of nature, here, apparently disregards morality in general. Instead, functions of sensory organs and limbs, which have been conventionally associated with sensory inclinations and self-centered desires, are enumerated to identify nature. Additionally, as implied by the comparison to “spirit,” [Buddha] nature is characterized as a single active entity that activates and manifests itself through the functions. Comparable statements are presented by Yang Shi, a prominent disciple of the Cheng brothers. Generally speaking, among all the things filling the world, what is not the Way? . . . If there is nothing that is not the Way wherever you go, how can one part from it? Wearing clothing when it is cold, eating when one feels hungry, getting up when the sun rises, taking rest when it is dark, ears’ hearing, eyes’ seeing, hands’ lifting, feet’s walking, and so forth. There is nothing that is not the Way. This is what people use in their daily lives (or functions) (ri yong 日用), but they are not aware of it. (Yang 1974: [20] 1a–2b)

Zhu Xi quotes this passage to criticize that Yang might also “fall into the Buddhist fallacy ‘function is nature.’” (Zhu 2001d: [1] 53). Yang’s argument shows a striking similarity not only with the passage from Record of the Transmission but also with  It is more likely that Zhu encounters this conversation and gāthā quoted verbatim in the Record of Conversation of Dahui Zonggao 大慧宗杲 (1089–1163), which was incorporated into the Tripitaka by the imperial sanction of Xiaozong more recently in 1171. (Dahui Zonggao 2002: [T47n1998A] p0829c16[04]–c27[04].) 4

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a predominant tendency of characterizing the Way within the Chan tradition (Dumoulin 1988: 243–64). As is represented by Mazu Daoyi’s 馬祖道一 (709–788) formulation that “the ordinary mind is the Way” (ping chang xin shi dao 平常心是 道),5 the strong connotations of preconceived moral values and social norms contained within the conventional meaning of the Way are notably diluted by this tendency. Here, the Way embraces everything that can be considered a genuine manifestation of human nature. The term “daily use” or “daily functions” also shows the connotations of the Way greatly expanded to embrace obviously trivial and morally neutral cases far beyond the Confucian value system. By foregrounding insignificant features in everyday life, Yang Shi as a Neo-Confucian might be highlighting human nature as the only genuine source of values and norms. Nonetheless, the statement as it is in effect expunges normative implications from the Way. Conversely, this line of interpretation may promote extreme moral subjectivism: Insofar as they are genuine manifestations of human nature, all thoughts, feelings, and actions one currently experiences would naturally and necessarily meet truly universal normative standards, regardless of their conformity to objective norms and values. An underlying premise of this “function is nature” perspective is a cause–effect relationship with a dyad structure, and moral agency is completely excluded. Since human nature in this view manifests itself directly through the functions of our sense organs, the single step from human nature to fulfillment of the Way does not allow room for any agency. Everything is simply explained descriptively as the immediate manifestation of human nature. This line of thought is hardly compatible with the practical necessity of moral self-cultivation. Human nature in this view is believed to be good, not because its manifestations meet preconceived moral standards, but because the functions of human nature define genuine norms and values. Accordingly, irrespective of moral qualities, all volitional actions of an agent must be regarded negatively as unfavorable interruptions. As a result, most methods of moral cultivation formulated upon the dyad structure are fundamentally self-negating (i.e., “emptying the mind”). No objective standards of morality can then override this ultimate author of values and morality. This view thus carries the risk promoting moral subjectivism and, consequently, overturning the authorities of social value systems and normative Confucian teaching in general.

 Yanagida Seizan elevates Mazu Daoyi’s expression “the ordinary mind is the Way” as the quintessence of the Linji Chan tradition (Yanagida 1969: 168–87). Also see, Poceski (2007: 182–86). 5

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3 Human Nature as Principle and Normativity6 To address these problems inherent in previous empirical and descriptive approaches, Zhu Xi substantiates the moral definition of human nature on a metaphysical foundation. The most essential premise running through his entire metaphysical system is the dualism of principle and the physical. Accordingly, he divides inborn-ness, both conceptually and ontologically, into human nature as principle and innate features extrinsic to human nature. Additionally, by reinterpreting Cheng Yi’s saying “human nature is principle,” Zhu describes human nature as the origin of “righteous principles and standard norms” and thus incorporates normativity into the concept of human nature. He argues that human nature is morally good in terms of principle, and human beings should follow it to be moral. He thereby transforms the very concept of human nature from an inner active entity to a metaphysical substance, which transcends the physical and sense-perception. Likewise, the moral qualities of human nature become a metaphysical truth, categorically insusceptible to the influence of physical elements.

3.1 Triad Model One of Zhu’s fundamental breakthroughs in Neo-Confucian theory of human nature is replacing the previous cause–effect relationship with the triad relationship between human nature, the mind, and qing. He encapsulates this approach with Zhang Zai’s expression xin tong xing qing 心統性情 (the mind administrates or encompasses nature and qing).7 Zhu thus lays the foundation to reconcile normative aspects of morality with the descriptive definition of human nature. Zhu reinterprets the relationship between human nature and its manifestations to confer a metaphysical status on human nature. Owing to the manifestations of [morally good] qing [from within like four sprouts], we can see the original [features] of human nature (xing zhi benran 性之本然). It is analogous [to the situation] that a thing is placed in [something else,] and clues [about the thing] emanate outwardly [from within]. (Zhu 2002b: [3] 289–90)

“Qing” 情 refers comprehensively to our conscious activities (feelings, intentions, desires, and so forth) that arise spontaneously from human nature in response to external stimuli. In his metaphysical framework, however, a substantial gap is created between human nature and the cognitive faculty (i.e., the mind [xin]). We cannot directly perceive human nature itself, not because it is hidden deeply within us, but because, ontologically, it is a supersensible, metaphysical substance “beyond

 Building upon Lee (2008, 2010).  Zhu’s usage of “tong 統,” has two meanings: “embracing” or “containing” (bao han 包含 or jian 兼), and “administering” in the sense of “zhu zai 主宰.” 6 7

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physical form” (xing er shang zhe 形而上者).8 Therefore, as detailed below, our empirical understanding of human nature requires a middle-ground (or “clues”) between human nature (as the source of morality) and the cognitive faculty. Qing occupies that middle-ground. On this basis, Zhu redefines the concept of the mind and its relation to human nature and qing. Nature is the original substance (ben ti 本體); its [manifested] functions (yong 用) are qing. The mind is that which administers (tong 統) [the procedure from] nature [to] qing (or embraces both nature and qing). It thus has both the dynamic and the static modes. [The mind] is the minister (zhu zai 主宰) of it. . . . If, however, directly equating the mind with its functions (or manifestations) and equating human nature with the substance, qing has nowhere it belongs. In addition, then, the mind is also limited to the dynamic mode. To the contrary, human nature as the substance indicates precisely the pre-manifestation (wei fa 未 發) state of benevolence, righteousness, propriety, and wisdom instead of the root of functions such as seeing and hearing (shi ting zuo yong zhi ben 視聽作用之本). (Zhu 1996: [74] 3890) (Italics added)

In short, Zhu incorporates qing into the relationship, conceptually replacing the mind as the manifested (yi fa 已發). Within his triad structure, the mind is no longer subordinate to the cause–effect relationship with regards to human nature. Zhu then redefines the mind as the faculties for cognition and administration. In this new conceptualization, one’s actualization of morality must begin with the mind’s proper cognition of human nature as the ultimate source of morality. However, because human nature itself is beyond immediate cognition, our empirical understanding of morality as “the original [features] of human nature” will default to an understanding of qing. Nonetheless, because the feelings, thoughts, and desires that appear in our consciousness are more diverse than a single pure morality, this leads to the question of how our mind can distinguish the genuine features of human nature from other inborn and spontaneous features like “functions such as seeing and hearing”; that is, does creating a triad solve the same problem that the dyad could not?

3.2 Inborn-ness Extrinsic to Human Nature As discussed above, during the period from Mencius to Cheng Hao and Hu Hong, one of the thorniest problems was that presuming human beings are born with more diverse senses and experiences beyond pure morality, it is then arbitrary to single out morally acceptable aspects alone as defining human nature. Zhu Xi addresses  According to Zhu Xi, this view, which characterizes human nature as something comparable to spirit or ghost (jing shen hun po 精神魂魄) that “has a shape and comes in and out between the mind and eyes,” was prevalent both in Buddhism and in early Neo-Confucianism. In practice, such an entity was regarded as a sort of object, locatable and embraceable. Against this historical background, he redefines human nature as a supersensible, metaphysical substance (Zhu 1994: [59] 1376; 1996: [51] 2530–31, [52] 2606–7; 2001b: [17] 373). 8

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this problem by dividing essential inborn features into two ontologically distinct categories in line with the dualism of principle and the physical. In his commentary on Gaozi’s argument “what is inborn (sheng 生) is called nature” (Mencius 6A.3), Zhu distinguishes sheng (inborn-ness and life) from human nature, showing that sheng indicates that by which both human beings and animals [are able to] perceive (zhi jue 知覺) and move (yun dong 運動). (Zhu 2002b: [11] 396–97) Perception here refers to physical sensations, sensory perceptions (e.g., sensation of coldness and warmth; feelings of hunger and satiety), and instinctive tendencies (e.g., the desire for self-preservation or enrichment) (Zhu 1994: [4] 57). Motion refers to bodily movements (e.g., hands lifting; feet walking). Zhu argues, accordingly, that even the difference between human nature and the nature of other living creatures cannot be explicated on this basis. Zhu then encapsulates such diverse inborn features common to all living creatures into sheng, and refers to both life energy (jing 精) (an essential and innate feature of all “living” creatures) and spirit (hun 魂) (the inner cause that enables sense organs, limbs, and the physical body to externally “function”) (Zhu 1994: [3] 36). According to Zhu, Gaozi’s view, thus summarized, is similar to the Buddhist view that “function is nature.” Both, he argues, commit a category mistake by confusing human nature with sheng. Although both are inborn features, he argues, human nature is principle, whereas sheng originates from, and is constituted of, the physical.

3.3 Human Nature as Principle and Multiplicity By redefining human nature as principle, Zhu attempts to reconcile normativity with the descriptive thesis that human nature is good. As detailed right below, while the thesis, “human nature is principle,” is descriptive, principle in the human realm refers to “righteous principles and standard norms,” which necessarily involves normative implications. In this way, human nature transforms from an inner entity which spontaneously directs feelings, thoughts, and actions in the right direction to something that an agent (more precisely, the mind) ought to actively cognize, understand, and realize through practice. Zhu’s normative redefinition of human nature is tied to his concern about moral subjectivism, which, according to him, is embedded in the descriptive view “function is nature.” Yang Shi’s remark, [the part of which read] “there is nothing that is not the way, no matter where you go,” is good. However, it seems that his expression is inadequate. Generally speaking, [our daily actions such as] dressing and eating, working and resting, seeing and hearing, and lifting and moving are all things (wu 物). [In contrast,] righteous principles and standard norms (yi li zhun ze 義理準則) relevant to such things are the Way. It would be congruent with the genuine import of the Zhongyong, if it meant as follows: the so-called Way is that which does not exist in separation from things; human beings living in the middle of Heaven and Earth are not able to disregard such things and stand alone; therefore,

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no matter where [we] are situated (lit., go), there must be the righteous principles as standard norms that [we] should not part from but [should] conform to every moment. [However,] if directly identifying things with the Way and saying that “human beings are not able to part from it for even a moment; this is what people do in their daily lives (or functions), but they are not aware of it,” it is the case not only of being confused about the distinction between ‘before physical form’ and ‘after physical form,’ but also of falling into the Buddhist fallacy of “function is nature.” On top of it, this would lead learners to mistakenly claim that “there is no place where the Way is not. Even though desiring to part from it, it is impossible to do so. I already know [the Way].” Then, even unruliness, insanity, and insincere actions also [would be justified by the claim] that “there is nothing that is not the Way, no matter where you go.” Then, the harm [caused by it] will be beyond description. (Zhu 2001d: [1] 53)

Overall, Zhu emphasizes that an excessive faith in the moral capacity of human nature as an objective truth might encourage moral extremism. He reiterates, “If seizing and grabbing of hands [are genuine functions of nature,] can we call seizing a knife and randomly killing people also [manifestations of] human nature?” (Zhu 1994: [126] 3022). Besides sheng, Zhu also defines morally-neutral inborn functions as “things” (wu 物), and thus differentiates these inborn features from the concept of human nature—the ultimate source of normative principles (“righteous principles and standard norms”)—to which these functions and motions should conform. For example, our eyes as a thing function spontaneously when stimulated by external objects. However, the principle of seeing is something else, and prescribed by the idea of proper functioning—“Not seeing what is not in accord with ritual proprieties” (fei li wu shi 非禮勿視) and “Seeing clearly” (ming 明) (Zhu 1994: [59] 1382). The underpinning idea is that “if a thing exists, its pertinent principle also exists” (you wu you ze 有物有則) (Zhu 1994: [59] 1382, [62] 1498; 1996: [44] 2115; also see, 2001a: [2] 21). The two are divided conceptually and ontologically, but interlinked normatively. Reduced to this metaphysical dualism, particular things and human affairs belong to the physical, distinct from their pertinent principles. With this distinction, Zhu legitimizes the mind’s role as the genuine moral agent (zhu zai 主宰; “minister”). He compares the all-encompassing realm of Heaven and Earth, where principle itself governs the existence and function of all things (“the reality of principle” [li zhi shi 理之實]), to the proper existence and function of a thing in the human realm (“the reality of things” [wu zhi shi 物之實]). The human realm necessitates the active and proper engagement of an agent (“the reality of the mind” [xin zhi shi 心之實]) to administrate things in accordance with their pertinent principles (figuratively, “uniting” (he 合) things and their pertinent principles) (Zhu 2001d: [2] 94–95). Normativity is thus incorporated into the concept of human nature. The spontaneous manifestation of human nature in the form of qing is compatible with the descriptive definition that human nature is principle. Entertaining the thesis that human nature is principle, its manifestation itself goes beyond the mind’s role, even though this procedure occurs in the mind (a descriptive interpretation of “xin tong xing qing”). Nonetheless, Zhu’s metaphysical scheme establishes the groundwork to legitimize the mind’s normative engagement by limiting its engagement to the

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post-manifestation state (yi fa). When defining the mind as the faculties for cognition and administration, Zhu also imposes its corresponding responsibilities to cognize the manifested clearly and to unite the cognized principle with its relevant thing accordingly. While it is descriptively true that human nature is principle, human nature manifests itself in the form of moral principles. Causality, implicit in “function is nature,” differs from Zhu’s account, which contains a mutually dependent relationship between the mind and human nature. To be cognized and then actualized, human nature requires the mind’s engagement. The mind is not the author of principle, but it relies on human nature to legitimize its cognition and administration. This metaphysical framework has yet to address the question of why moral defects occur. Zhu does address this question, in part, by introducing “multiplicity of principle” (zhong li 衆理 or wan li 萬理) concerning inevitable limitations of moral knowledge (Zhu 1996: [74] 3895–96; 2001a: [1] 8; 2002b: [12] 412–13; [13] 425–26). The mind is a mystic and luminous thing for human beings, which contains the multiplicity of principle and responds to all human affairs [appropriately]. Human nature is the principle contained in the mind.” (Zhu 2001a: [1] 8)

Zhu identifies human nature here as the ultimate and complete source of principle. Encountering anything, human nature presents the relevant principle by which one can, or should, deal with it appropriately. With human nature defined as principle, principle becomes a generic concept to encompass every law or rule that is right and good. In other words, we cannot understand its totality, since the normative meaning of a particular principle is intelligible only in association with specific things. As seen above, principles in the human realm normatively prescribe proper responses to specific things. Therefore, instead of a singular substance, principle both in cognition and in practice must be plural and specific. In this vein, the one-to-one correspondence between principle and thing demarcates the limits to our understanding of principle as a whole. What constitute the substance of human nature are [the four constants (chang 常: i.e., the four cardinal principles)]. . . . The four [constants] contained in the human mind correspond to human nature as the original substance. At the pre-manifestation state, it has no shape to see. . . . [It is] like a thing contained in something else; [we] can speculate on it only through clues that have already manifested externally. (Zhu 1996: [74] 3895–96)

Zhu reiterates that human nature itself is beyond direct perception, and our understanding is contingent on those manifestations (“clues”). Because human nature manifests itself “in response to” (ying 應) external circumstances, cognition and consequent actualization of innate principles will scale proportionally to things and affairs that one has encountered. Concerning Zhu’s criticism of the prevailing view of human nature, clearly this multiplicity of principle implies an impracticability for forming unconditional unity with all-encompassing human nature. This new approach also provides theoretical support for his interpretation of “investigation of things” (ge wu 格物) (Lee 2015: 71–93). Additionally, this provides an explanation

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for the inconsistency between the perfection of human nature and the imperfection of human beings, in a limited moral knowledge.

4 Moral Defects, Disparities, and Embodied Nature9 Mencius’ claim that “human nature is good” stands at odds with empirically self-­ evident facts. Granted that our nature is morally good, why are we morally defective? And if human nature provides all normative principles, how could we lack moral knowledge? Moreover, if morality is the universal quality of human nature, how can we have such wide disparities in moral character? Zhu Xi addresses these questions with “the theory of physical constitution” (qi zhi zhi shuo 氣質之說), in which “embodied nature” is included.

4.1 Embodied Nature and Mutual Inseparability A common misunderstanding surrounding embodied nature is that by the concept Zhu refers to the inborn natural tendencies of sensory desires and identifies them as a different kind of human nature in distinction from moral nature.10 This misunderstanding leads to the mistaken division of human nature into two conceptually distinct subcategories. Instead, Zhu consistently advocates the unity of human nature. Otherwise, he would lose the metaphysical foundation to claim that human nature is morally good. Such a critical confusion about embodied nature arises from its ambiguous origin. Zhu acknowledges borrowing the concept from Zhang Zai and Cheng Yi, but each only used the term once. Moreover, there was no consensus on its meaning. By the term, Zhang meant natural tendencies of sensory desires, as juxtaposed with the moral nature called “the nature of the Heavenly Mandate” (tian ming zhi xing 天命 之性). Consequently, he unintentionally divided the concept of human nature into two separate subcategories (Zhang Z. 1978: [6] 23; Kasoff 1984: 75). Cheng, in turn, intended to explain interpersonal disparities in inborn moral character, and contrasted embodied nature with the universal and homogenous moral qualities of human nature (Cheng and Cheng 1981: [18] 207). Commonly, however, Cheng and Zhang both referred to the “mixture” (jian 兼) between human nature and physical constitution (qizhi) as distinct from human nature itself (Zhu 2002b: [11] 398–400). Embodied nature as a word (qi zhi zhi xing) is a compound of physical constitution (qizhi) and nature (xing), which fits into Zhu’s dualism. In re-conceptualizing  Building on Lee (2008, 2016).  For earlier examples, see Chen Z. [10] 5a; Luo (1986: [1] 11a–14b and 34a–35a). This misunderstanding persists. Zhang Liwen defines qizhi zhi xing as “natural biological attributes” (Zhang L. 2013: 237). Also see Chen L. (1990: 165). 9

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the term, he elaborates on the relationship between principle and physical constitution by proposing two basic, but mutually opposed axioms—non-interfusability (bu xiang za 不相雜) and mutual inseparability (bu xiang li 不相離). These axioms are to explain the relationship between principle and the physical in general, but Zhu most frequently applies them to the triad relationship of human nature, manifested (qing), and the mind, and doing so by associating embodied nature primarily with mutual inseparability. Mutual inseparability provides an explanation for personal moral defects and interpersonal disparities in moral character, showing that, like anything else in the physical world, the mind is also resultant from the necessary combination of principle and physical constitution. Whereas principle constitutes the universal features of human nature, the quality of an endowed physical constitution largely predetermines the mind’s capacity and its unique characteristics (e.g. personal psychological dispositions). Additionally, because the quality of endowed physical constitution varies by person, this qualitative variance necessarily brings about disparities in moral character (Zhu 2001b: [17] 371).11 Mutual inseparability alone endangers the thesis of the moral goodness of human nature, for it seems that human nature in its pure moral state either cannot exist or must be conditioned by the quality of physical constitution in its manifestation.

4.2 Human Nature Itself and Non-interfusability Zhu’s explication, however, consistently accompanies his emphasis on non-­ interfusability.12 Consider his typical account of the relationship between human nature and physical constitution: . Human nature cannot exist by itself but must rely on the physical in its embodiment. A B. Combined with physical constitution, human nature can “be restrained by the physical” (wei qi suo ju 爲氣所拘). C. [Even restrained by the physical, however,] “the moral goodness [of human nature] as principle is absolutely immutable.” D. Qing 情 and personal moral capacities are affected by the endowed physical constitution of each person. If the quality of the endowed physical constitution is bad, qing also tends to be not-good, and personal moral capacities are also likely to be not-good. E. Nonetheless, “the original state of the thing (i.e., human nature itself), manifested into qing and one’s personal moral capacities, has never been not-good in the beginning.” (Zhu 2001c: [10] 477–79)

This emphasizes that the physical constitution cannot alter human nature itself (Zhu 1986: [61] 3187). Human nature is a metaphysical substance not only epistemologically (“beyond immediate cognition or perception”) but also ontologically  Also see, Luo (1986: [1] 11a–14b and 34a–35a).  Liu Shuxian argues that Zhu’s emphasis gradually shifted from non-interfusability to mutual inseparability (Liu 1982: 197–216). However, Zhu’s words, which Liu quotes and analyzes, concern non-interfusability alone or both axioms, potentially undermining the validity of Liu’s claim. 11 12

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(­“immutable”). Even so, physical constitution is necessary for the embodiment of human nature. In addition, the quality of the physical constitution in a person necessarily affects the manifestation of human nature in terms of qing and personal moral capacities. Nonetheless, the necessity in the combination between physical constitution and human nature (Part A) does not mean a fusion into one single entity. Rather, human nature itself retains its original qualities (Part C). Parts D and E seem mutually inconsistent, but Zhu makes an ontological distinction between human nature itself and its external manifestations. Human nature is absolutely good, and therefore its genuine manifestations are also necessarily good (Part E). On the other hand, because the manifestations are susceptible to the influence of the physical constitution of a person, the moral qualities of the former are largely contingent on the qualities of the latter (Part D). Notably, Zhu hereby confines the influence of physical constitution to the manifestation process between human nature and the manifested, and thus, conceptually, frees human nature itself from the influence of physical constitution. The manifested are originally good, but they may become not-good consequently. Figuratively speaking, inferior physical constitutions may “obscure” the manifestation process, but this critique no longer reaches human nature itself. For this reason, embodied nature is also compatible with the axiom of non-­ interfusability. Restraints of physical constitution vary by degree rather than as an absolute. Sages or moral paragons are no longer ontologically distinct from ordinary persons. They may be born with superior physical constitutions, which enables them to realize innate morality with much less difficulties. Nonetheless, by non-­ interfusability, the morally inferior are also not completely restrained by their endowed physical constitutions. Compared to other living creatures, human beings in general are endowed with “excellent” physical qualities, which enables the maintenance of moral nature as a whole (Zhu 2001a: [1] 3–4). Furthermore, the restraints of physical constitutions are not absolute, even for the most inferior. The originally luminous substance (i.e., human nature itself), which is obtained from Heaven, can never be obscured. Therefore, even in the condition that it is covered to the extreme [by an inferior physical constitution], [it can happen that the mind] experiences an awareness at the short moment of cleavage [in the cover]. At these moments, the original substance shines forth through the gap. (Zhu 2001a: [1] 4)

Here, Zhu thins out deterministic and fatalistic implications of embodied nature, arguing that the distinction between physical constitution and human nature itself is more essential than conceptual. Despite mutual inseparability, human nature maintains its own existence, even spontaneously manifesting at all times, regardless of disparities in physical constitution. Its eventual manifestations in one’s consciousness, which determine one’s inborn moral capacity, may vary. However, embodied nature indicates a combination of two mutually non-interfusable qualities. Principally, embodied nature explains personal moral defects and individual disparities. However, Zhu’s reconceptualization ultimately distinguishes human nature from inborn features in general. He thus proclaims, “the theory of physical constitution” (qi zhi zhi shuo 氣質之說), instead of embodied nature, verifies that “the

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n­ ot-­goodness of physical constitution cannot vitiate the necessity of the goodness of human nature” (Zhu 2001c: [10] 478). The notion of embodied nature in terms of mutual inseparability, on the other hand, also justifies the requirements of purposeful efforts or moral self-cultivation. The expression “human nature can be restrained by the physical” suggests that one’s understanding of human nature as the ultimate source of moral principles is always exposed to the problem of adulteration with, or obscuration by, the physical.13 Here, Zhu conveys a warning against “indescribable harm,” which may derive from excessive faith in the moral capacity of human nature. Accordingly, Zhu often concludes his metaphysical accounts of human nature with supplementary normative commentary: “Although human nature is originally good, one should undertake reflective examination and rectification (lit., straightening and bending). Learners should ponder this deeply” (Zhu 2002b: [11] 398–400).

5 The Great Ultimate, Sensory Desires, and the Unity of Nature Beyond the Cheng brothers and Zhang Zai, Zhu’s metaphysical system is most inspired by Zhou Dunyi’s Explanation of the Diagram of the Great Ultimate (hereafter, Explanation of the Diagram) as well as the Diagram of the Great Ultimate (hereafter, the Diagram) itself. Despite controversies on its Daoist origin, Zhu fully endorsed its philosophical authenticity and firmly posits its implicit but profound influence over the Cheng brothers.14 Zhu’s reinterpretation crystalizes the dualism of principle and the physical and the two axioms of non-interfusability and mutual inseparability. By aligning with Cheng Yi’s claim that “there is absolutely nothing outside human nature,” Zhu expands this discussion to the unity of nature in all living creatures. This all-encompassing perspective makes human nature inclusive of sensory desires, which contrasts markedly with the discriminative and normative application of the dualism. Zhu, therefore, defends the morality of nature by explaining tendencies of sensory desires to immorality as nonessential deviations, but controllable through moral agency.

 Zhu addresses this problem particularly in his interpretation of the so-called 16 character teaching—“Ren xin 人心 is precarious; dao xin 道心 is subtle. Being discerning (jing 精) and being undivided (yi 一). Holding on to the mean (zhong 中)”—, extoling the genuine essence of the sages’ teaching (Lee 2013). 14  For controversies, Hon (2010: 4–6). For lines of influence, see Zhu (2002a: 79). 13

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5.1 Zhou Dunyi’s Great Ultimate Concerning human nature, unity is the core idea that Zhu extracts from Zhou’s Explanation of the Diagram and the Diagram. Generally speaking, from the viewpoint of totality, all things as a whole is the single Great Ultimate (yi tai ji 一太極); from the viewpoint of division, each thing has the single Great Ultimate. (Zhu 2002a: 74)

At the risk of oversimplification, the Great Ultimate is the ultimate origin of all. As a metaphysical substance, it escapes sensory perception (lit., “without sound or smell”) and is also called “Non-Ultimate” (wu ji 無極). On the other hand, the complicated mixing of Yin and Yang as well as the Five Phases generates myriad things in the world. Nonetheless, the entire process “is inseparable from” (bu neng li 不能 離) the Great Ultimate. The Great Ultimate is the single ultimate origin, cause, and mechanism of the genetic process. Consequently, everything generated through this process is endowed with the Great Ultimate, which is also called its nature. Therefore, the nature of one thing is equal to the Great Ultimate (Zhu 2002a: 72–78). When adopting Zhou’s cosmological scheme, Zhu expands the discussion to embrace all. Xing 性 here does not refer to human nature exclusively but to the inborn commonality (tong 同) of all living creatures. How do we then explain differences between human beings and other living creatures? Zhu next engages this question to underscore the universality, objectivity, and unity of nature. As with his discussion of embodied nature, Zhu distinguishes the nature itself from the nature embodied in a particular species in line with the dualism. He proposes no difference between human beings and other species in the origin of their natures, since differences consists in the potential for its actual manifestation in its consciousness. Despite interpersonal disparities, human beings in general are born with excellent quality of the endowed physical constituents (qi bing 氣稟), which gives us the potential for unrestricted manifestations of the nature. Wide “disparities” (bu qi 不齊) in endowed physical constituents occur in the genetic process. Due to the substantially inferior physical constituents, the natures embodied in animals are further from the original nature itself (Zhu 1994: [4] 57–58). Nonetheless, according to Zhu, some animals are born with the capacity to naturally actualize innate morality, although in a limited range. For example, bee and ant societies also observe the discriminative relation between ruler and ministers (jun chen zhi fen 君 臣之分), which reflects their inborn capacities for righteousness (yi 義). He further argues, this empirical evidence verifies that righteousness, like other cardinal moral features, is a universal principle, shared by all living creatures and that righteousness is an objective quality beyond human’s “artificial construction” (ren wei 人爲). Here, the endowed physical constituents, which determine differences between humans and animals, are extraneous to the nature itself (Zhu 2001d: [1] 46–47).15

 For a further discussion on the differences between human beings and animals in terms of endowed principle as well as endowed physical constituents, see Chen L. (1990: 66–88). 15

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Zhu employs these physical constituents and equivalents not merely to explain differences and disparities. The focal point is to illuminate the unity of all in the metaphysical dimension. Concerning human nature, this perspective is congruent with Cheng Yi’s redefinition of human nature as principle. Principle, by definition, connotes universality, objectivity, and unity. Zhu further argues that this cosmological view is clearly consistent with Cheng’s all-encompassing claim that “there is absolutely nothing outside human nature” (Zhu 2002a: 73). The remaining question is how to explain immorality.

5.2 Sensory Desires and the Unity of Nature16 When arguing for unity in relation to human nature, Zhu consistently includes diverse sensory desires in the category of nature. The underlying logic is that nothing in the world “comes into being by itself”; everything originates from the Great Ultimate, which is also called “the naturalness of the Heavenly Principle” (tian li zhi zi ran 天理之自然) (Zhu 1994: [61] 1461). Likewise, human nature as “the single Great Ultimate” in us is the ultimate origin of all manifestations from within including sensory desires. (a) Human nature is that which human beings receive from Heaven. (b) Its substance is nothing more than the principles of benevolence, righteousness, propriety, and wisdom. (c) Its manifestations including personal desires for food and sex all originate from it. (Zhu 2001d: [14] 505)

By this definition, that which originates from Heaven is human nature (a). In this light, sensory desires, ontologically, also belong in this category of human nature (c). In contrast, the qualities of human nature are limited to cardinal moral principles (b). A question is how to explain the transition from (b) to (c). Sometimes, Zhu directly associates sensory desires with principle. [Although such personal desires] are called human nature, they are, in fact, already not the original state of human nature. Nonetheless, the principles of such desires exist in human nature. Therefore, the mouth necessarily (bi 必) desires [good] flavors, . . .; [these desires] naturally (zi ran 自然) issue forth as such. Unless such principles existed, the mouth would not desire [good] flavors by itself (zi 自), . . . the body would not desire comfort by itself. (Zhu 1994: [61] 1462)

Here, principle is descriptively interpreted as that by which things exist and function in a naturalistic sense. There are some fundamental reasons that sensory desires are compatible with the definition of human nature. First, like the manifestation of innate morality, sensory desires also arise spontaneously. Second, such desires are also universally common to all human beings, more universal than morality at least in the empirical dimension. Third, as is clearly stated in the quotation above, the tendencies of sensory desires show a pattern of necessity, which is consistent with 16

 Building on Lee (2008, 2016).

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the definition of principle. Fourth, inclinations toward pleasant objects are not only natural, but it would be logically senseless to claim a natural dislike for something one spontaneously feels favorable towards. Fifth, sensory desires (i.e., desires for food and sexes) are “indispensable” (suo dang you 所當有) for the sustenance of life and continuation of our species (Zhu 2001a: [2] 25). Excluding these attributes, morality is the only criterion to distinguish human nature from sensory desires. Nonetheless, sensory desires themselves are not the direct cause of immorality. Particularly in relation to indispensability discussed above, provided that the ultimate objective of sensory desires is the sustenance of life and the continuance of human history, there is no reason to unfavorably label these desires. In practice, accordingly, insofar as desires are satisfied properly and achieve morally legitimate ends, one’s pursuit of such desires is not only natural but morally required. The unity of nature underscores origin but not moral outcome. As seen right above, the moral validity of sensory desires is hypothetical. In this regard, human nature as principle includes both normative and descriptive aspects. Sensory desires “indeed originate from” (gu chu 固出) human nature, but they are not “confined” (zhi 止) to such inborn features (Zhu 2001c: [11] 477). Human nature is also the ultimate origin of moral principles, many of which are relevant to sensory desires. Therefore, one should not pursue sensory desires as “something self-evidently right” (suo dang ran 所當然), but should follow desires only in accordance with moral principles (Zhu 1994: [61] 1462). Notably, both sensory desires and relevant moral principles originate from human nature. A following question is how to explain immoral feelings, thoughts, and actions. If immoral things cannot arise out of nothing, there must be an origin or cause of it. Nonetheless, even so, the origin or cause of immorality must be posited outside of human nature, which is the sole origin of morality in Zhu’s metaphysical scheme. As Zhang Zai juxtaposed embodied nature with “the nature of the Heavenly Mandate,” this line of thought leads to conceding the co-existence of two origins, moral and immoral, and thus may make human nature a relative concept (Zhu 1996: [59] 3078–79). This conjecture, however, contradicts the unity of nature. To the contrary, Zhu reinforces the unity of nature by adopting Cheng Yi’s formulation that “there is absolutely nothing outside human nature” (Cheng and Cheng 1981: [18] 204; Zhu 1994: [4] 60; 1996: [39] 1808). Zhu further argues, “the reason disparities of good and bad exist in accordance with disparities of endowed physical constitution also consists in the principle of nature. . . . In the world, there is absolutely nothing outside human nature. Therefore, everything is good in its origin, but it comes to slant to the bad” (Zhu 1996: [67] 3537–38). What then causes immorality? To respond to this issue, Zhu characterizes immorality as nonessential deviations. As discussed above, the influence of physical constitution is restricted to external manifestations of human nature, distinct from human nature itself. Similarly, the correlation between sensory desires and immorality is also explained as the consequence of accidental occurrences in the manifestation process. As analyzed above, essentially, sensory desires are associated with morally good ends, so there is no objective reason to identify them as the direct cause of immorality.

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Fig. 13.1  “Diagram of Human Nature” (Zhu 1986: [55] 4b–5a)

Figuratively, Zhu depicts the immoral occurrences as deviations from genuine manifestations of human nature. In “Diagram of Human Nature” (xing tu 性圖) (Fig. 13.1; author unknown), the phrase “human nature is good” (xing shan 性善) occupies the top, and “the good” (shan 善) is placed right below it. In contrast, “the bad” (e 惡) is horizontally situated with the note, “It cannot be said that the bad originates directly from the goodness [of human nature]; [when initial manifestations of human nature] cannot turn out good [eventually] but go awry, [then] they become bad” (Zhu 1994: [55] 1308). As with Guo Yong’s 郭雍 (1106–1187) “Diagram of Human Nature” (xing tu 性圖; elsewhere named, xing shan tu 性善 圖), Zhu comments that the diagram is wrong to juxtapose “the good” and “the bad” below the phrase “human nature is good,” as if they originate equally from human

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nature; rather, “the bad” should be “placed beside” (bang chu 傍出) “the good” and “upside down” (dao zhe 倒著) “to show the bad is merely opposite to the good” (Zhu 1994: [95] 2429–30; 1996: [59] 3078–79). Zhu thus contends that there is no separate origin of immorality, but immorality means a state of error or deviation that occurs after the initial manifestation of human nature. In brief, Zhu Xi resolves the seeming contradiction between the morality of human nature and the unity of nature by re-defining immorality—conventionally associated with sensory desires—as nonessential deviations. Concerning the cause of such deviations, he identifies external objects and circumstances and their influence over sensory desires (i.e. beautiful objects and tasteful foods influence our eyes and mouths). He generally calls this the “enticements of external things” (wai wu zhi you 外物之誘). (Zhu 2001a: [2] 25; 2002b: [8] 356 and [13] 428). The unity of nature embraces all things arising from within like qing and sensory desires in their initial manifestations, and deviations toward immorality occur afterwards. In so doing, Zhu again legitimizes an agent’s engagement in preventing sensory desires from erroneous deviations at the post-manifestation stage and thus reconciles the demand of normativity with the descriptive definition of human nature.17

6 Conclusion In the fifteenth day of the first lunar month 1241, imperial edict ordered the enshrinement of Zhu Xi’s spiritual tablet at the National Confucian Temple, together with Zhou Dunyi, Zhang Zai, Cheng Hao, and Cheng Yi (Tuotuo 1977: [42] 821; Wilson 1995: 35–47). The first, officially recognized, orthodox view on human nature thus emerged. It goes beyond the scope of this paper to make a philosophical judgment about whether Zhu’s theory of human nature is successful in substantiating the moral definition of human nature. In relation to this question, A. C. Graham withdraws his previous estimation that Neo-Confucians “fail to distinguish within li 理 the physical principles by which one explains and predicts and the moral principles on which one acts.” He suggests that Zhu’s theory of human nature presents a positive solution to the is–ought problem. Apart from the philosophical validity of Graham’s estimation, he rightly highlights this “paradigm-shift” introduced by Cheng and Zhu’s reinterpretation of human nature in terms of principle as “the definitive Chinese solution of the problem of human nature” (Graham 1986: 138–57).18  This line of explanation also leads to the question of what causes interpersonal disparities in overcoming the “enticements of external things.” It seems to me that Zhu cannot address this issue metaphysically except resorting to differences in the quality of endowed physical constitution. Nonetheless, this seemingly deterministic approach does not provide an adequate explanation to the matters of “becoming” or “ought-ness” without falling into a vicious circle. For Zhu’s normative approach to this issue, see Lee (2013: 75–96). 18  For a negative, modern perspective evaluation, see Munro (1988: 192–232). 17

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Unlike earlier thinkers whose interests lay in explaining “who we are here and now,” Zhu’s metaphysics of human nature instead deals with “why we are defective and different” on the one hand and sets the standard for understanding “who we are in its origin,” which is equivalent to the prescriptive statement, “what we should be,” on the other.19 The gap does not imply a contradiction. “The not-goodness of physical constitution cannot vitiate the necessity of the goodness of human nature.” Instead, he reconciles normativity with the descriptive definition of human nature by filling the gap with “what we should do,” although this falls outside the scope of metaphysical inquiry. When drawing attention to the importance of the “correct” view on human nature, Zhu does not merely intend to construct a coherent and explicative system. Reflecting on previous history, he recognizes that a definition of human nature largely predetermines what one should do to be moral. In this regard, his theory of human nature fosters a belief in human nature as the self-perfect source of morality, and on the other hand, it underlines a significant limitation in comprehending and acting on this inborn morality. He thus seeks a proper balance, both to avoid an excessive faith in inborn morality that might promote radical subjectivism and antinomianism and to defend the validity of practical rules of self-cultivation—like “investigation of things” (ge wu 格物) and “fathoming the principle” (qiong li 窮 理)—, which prescribe one’s search for objective and universal moral principles that are ultimately manifested from human nature (Lee 2015: 71–93).

References Chan, Wing-tsit. 1963. A Source Book in Chinese Philosophy. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Chen, Zhi 陳埴. 1986. Literary Collection of the Wooden Bell 木鐘集. Wenyunage Siku quanshu 文淵閣四庫全書 ed. Taipei 臺北: Taiwan shang wu yin shu guan 臺灣商務印書館. Chen, Lai 陳來. 1990. A Study of Zhu Xi’s Philosophy 朱熹哲學硏究. Taipei 臺北: Wenjin chuban she 文津出版社. (Currently, the most comprehensive study of diverse philosophical issuses in Zhu Xi’s philosophy.) Chen, Chun, and Wing-tsit Chan. 1986. Neo-Confucian Terms Explained: The Pei-hsi tzu-i, Neo-­ Confucian Studies. New York: Columbia University Press. Cheng, Hao 程顥, and Cheng Yi 程頣. 1981. “Surviving Words of the Chengs from Henan 河南 程氏遺書”. In The Works of the Two Chengs 二程集. Beijing 北京: Zhonghua shuju 中華書 局. Dahui Zonggao 大慧宗杲. 2002. Record of Conversation of Dahui Zonggao 大慧普覺禪師語錄. CBETA online version. Daoyuan 道原. 2002. The Jingde Era Record of the Transmission of the [Dharma] Lamp 景德傳 燈錄. CBETA online version. Dumoulin, Heinrich. 1988. Zen Buddhism: A History, vol. 1 of India and China. Translated by James W Heisig and Paul Knitter. New York: Macmillan. Graham, Angus C. 1986. “What Was New in the Ch’eng–Chu Theory of Human Nature?” In Wing-tsit Chan, ed., Chu Hsi and Neo-Confucianism, 138–157. Honolulu: University of 19

 For “why should one be moral?” and Cheng Yi’s response, see Huang (2010: 60–64).

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Hawaii Press. (A comparative study on the theory of human nature proposed by Cheng Yi and Zhu Xi) ———. 1989. Disputers of the Tao: Philosophical Argument in Ancient China. La Salle: Open Court. ———. 1992. Two Chinese Philosophers: The Metaphysics of the Brothers Ch‘êng. La Salle: Open Court. Hon, Tze-ki. 2010. “Zhou Dunyi’s Philosophy of the Supreme Polarity.” In John Makeham, ed., Dao Companion to Neo-Confucian Philosophy, 1–16. Dordrecht/New York: Springer. Hu, Hong 胡宏. 1986. Knowing Words 知言. Wenyunage Siku quanshu 文淵閣四庫全書 ed. Taipei 臺北: Taiwan shang wu yin shu guan 臺灣商務印書館. Huang, Yong. 2010. “Cheng Yi’s Moral Philosophy.” In John Makeham, ed., Dao Companion to Neo-Confucian Philosophy, 59–87. Dordrecht/New York: Springer. Ivanhoe, Philip J.  1990. Ethics in the Confucian Tradition: the Thought of Mencius and Wang Yang-ming. Atlanta: Scholars Press. Kasoff, Ira E. 1984. The Thought of Chang Tsai (1020–1077). Cambridge/New York: Cambridge University Press. Lee, Junghwan. 2008. “A Groundwork for Normative Unity: Zhu Xi’s Reformation of the ‘Learning of the Way’ Tradition.” Ph.D. Diss., Harvard University. ———. 2010. “‘Function Is Nature’: An Anti-thesis for Zhu Xi to Establish a New Theory of Human Nature ‘作用是性’:朱熹의 性論 定立을 위한 反命題.” The Journal of Chinese Studies 63: 373–397. ———. 2013. “Balancing Between Innate Morality and Moral Agency: Zhu Xi’s Interpretation of the Sixteen Character Teaching.” Journal of Confucian Philosophy and Culture 42: 75–96. ———. 2015. “Restructuring Learning (xue 學) on a New Foundation: Zhu Xi’s Reformulation of Gewu 格物 and Zhizhi 致知.” Journal of Confucian Philosophy and Culture 24: 71–93. ———. 2016. “Qizhi zhi xing 氣質之性 and the Unity of Human Nature: Zhu Xi’ s Theorization of the Goodness of Human Nature.” Journal of Confucian Philosophy and Culture 29: 1–27. Liu, Shuxian 劉述先. 1982. Development and Completion of Master Zhu’s Philosophical Thought 朱子哲學思想的發展與完成. Taipei 臺北: Xuesheng shuju 學生書局. Luo, Qinshun 羅欽順. 1986. Knowledge Painfully Acquired 困知記. Wenyunage Siku quanshu 文 淵閣四庫全書 ed. Taipei 臺北: Taiwan shang wu yin shu guan 臺灣商務印書館. Munro, Donald J. 1988. Images of Human Nature: A Sung Portrait. Princeton: Princeton University Press. (A sturuntural analysis of mutually contrrasting asepcts [or images] in Zhu’s discourses on human nature.) Poceski, Mario. 2007. Ordinary Mind as the Way: The Hongzhou School and the Growth of Chan Buddhism. Oxford/New York: Oxford University Press. Tuotuo 脫脫. 1977. History of the Song 宋史. Beijing 北京: Zhonghua shu ju 中華書局. Van Norden, Bryan W. 2011. Introduction to Classical Chinese Philosophy. Indianapolis: Hackett Pub. Wilson, Thomas A. 1995. Genealogy of the Way: the Construction and Uses of the Confucian Tradition in Late Imperial China. Stanford: Stanford University Press. Yanagida, Seizan 柳田聖山. 1969. Inquiry into Nothing-ness: Chinese Chan 無の探求: 中國禪. Tōkyō: Kadokawa Shoten. Yang, Shi 楊時. 1974. Comleted Works of Yang Guishan 楊龜山先生全集. Taipei 臺北: Xuesheng shuju 學生書局. Zhang, Zai 張載. 1978. “Correcting the Stupid 正蒙”. In the Collected Works of Zhang Zai 張載 集. Beijing 北京: Zhonghe shuju 中華書局. Zhang, Liwen 張立文, ed. 2013. Great Dictionary of Zhu Xi 朱熹大辭典. Shanghai 上海: Shanghai cishu chubanshe 上海辭書出版社. Zhu, Xi 朱熹. 1986. The Conversations of Master Zhu, Arranged Topically 朱子語類. Edited by Li Jingde 黎靖德. Wenyunage Siku quanshu 文淵閣四庫全書 ed. Taipei 臺北: Taiwan shang wu yin shu guan 臺灣商務印書館.

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——— 朱熹. 1994. The Conversations of Master Zhu, Arranged Topically 朱子語類. Edited by Li Jingde 黎靖德. Beijing 北京: Zhonghua shuju 中華書局. ——— 朱熹. 1996. Collected Works of Zhu Xi 朱熹集. Chengdu 成都: Sichuan jiaoyu chubanshe 四川敎育出版社. ——— 朱熹. 2001a. A Catechistical Commentary to the Great Learning 大學或問. In A Catechistical Commentary to the Four Books 四書或問. Shanghai 上海: Shanghai guji chubanshe 上海古籍出版社; Anhui jiao yu chu ban she 安徽敎育出版社. ——— 朱熹. 2001b. A Catechistical Commentary to the Analects 論語或問. In A Catechistical Commentary to the Four Books 四書或問. Shanghai 上海: Shanghai guji chubanshe 上海古 籍出版社; Anhui jiao yu chu ban she 安徽敎育出版社. ——— 朱熹. 2001c. A Catechistical Commentary to Mencius 孟子或問. In A Catechistical Commentary to the Four Books 四書或問. Shanghai 上海: Shanghai guji chubanshe 上海古 籍出版社; Anhui jiao yu chu ban she 安徽敎育出版社. ——— 朱熹. 2001d. A Catechistical Commentary to the Great Mean 中庸或問. In A Catechistical Commentary to the Four Books 四書或問. Shanghai 上海: Shanghai guji chubanshe 上海古籍 出版社; Anhui jiao yu chu ban she 安徽敎育出版社. ——— 朱熹. 2002a. An Explication of the Explanation of the Diagram of the Great Ultimate 太極 圖說解. In The Entire Collection of Master Zhu’s Works 朱子全書. Shanghai 上海: Shanghau guji chubanshe 上海古籍出版社; Hefei 合肥: Anhui jiaoyu chubanshe 安徽敎育出版社. ——— 朱熹. 2002b. Commentary to Mencius 孟子集註. In The Entire Collection of Master Zhu’s Works 朱子全書. Shanghai 上海: Shanghau guji chubanshe 上海古籍出版社; Hefei 合肥: Anhui jiaoyu chubanshe 安徽敎育出版社. Junghwan Lee is an associate professor at the Department of Aesthetics, Seoul National University, South Korea. The main areas of his research interest are East Asian aesthetics, NeoConfucianism, and intellectual history of Song China.  

Chapter 14

Theory of Knowledge 1: Gewu and Zhizhi Yiu-ming Fung

1 Introduction: The Notions of Gewu1 and Zhi1zhi2 in the Great Learning As two important classics of the Pre-Qin 先秦 Confucianism, the Great Learning (Daxue 大學) and the Doctrine of Mean (Zhongyong 中庸) were later extracted from the Book of Rites (Liji 禮記) and combined with the Analects (Lunyu 論語) and the Mencius (Mengzi 孟子) to form the Four Books (Sishu 四書) by Zhu Xi 朱 熹. Zhu Xi treats the Great Learning as the entrance to the cultivation of virtue (ru de zhi men 入德之門) for junior scholars. He also thinks that the three guiding principles (san gongling 三綱領) and the eight clauses (ba tiaomu 八條目) in the beginning of the essay are most important in Confucian study. These principles are1: What the Great Learning teaches, is to illustrate illustrious virtue; to renovate the people; and to rest in the highest excellence. The point where to rest being known, the object of pursuit is then determined; and, that being determined, a calm unperturbedness may be attained to. To that calmness there will succeed a tranquil repose. In that repose there may be careful deliberation, and that deliberation will be followed by the attainment of the desired end. Things have their root and their branches. Affairs have their end and their beginning. To know what is first and what is last will lead near to what is taught in the Great Learning. (Great Learning in Legge 1983: 2–4) 大學之道, 在明明德, 在親民, 在止於至善。知止而后有定, 定而后能靜, 靜而后能 安, 安而后能慮, 慮而后能得。物有本末, 事有終始, 知所先後, 則近道矣。

1  The quoted passage in the Great Learning translated by James Legge is quoted from Donald Sturgeon’s Chinese Text Project: http://ctext.org. Hereafter, please also refer to this website for all the other citations of the ancient texts in this chapter.

Y.-m. Fung (*) Division of Humanities, Hong Kong University of Science and Technology, Hong Kong, People’s Republic of China e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2020 K.-c. Ng, Y. Huang (eds.), Dao Companion to ZHU Xi’s Philosophy, Dao Companions to Chinese Philosophy 13, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-29175-4_14

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Although the text does not give any explanation for these principles, most traditional scholars think that they are related to the eight clauses. These scholars, including Zhu Xi, believe that the first principle, “to illustrate the illustrious virtue” (ming mingde 明明德), is about inner and personal cultivation and the other two principles, “to renovate the people” (qin men 親民) and “to rest in the highest excellence” (zhiyu zhi3shan 止於至善), are about socio-political practice. They also believe that the former principle is substantiated by the first five clauses and the latter two principles are materialized in the last three clauses. In the second passage, the writer of the Great Learning stresses that the eight clauses have an intimate relationship step by step from each item to its following item. It says that: The ancients who wished to illustrate illustrious virtue throughout the kingdom, first ordered well their own states. Wishing to order well their states, they first regulated their families. Wishing to regulate their families, they first cultivated their persons. Wishing to cultivate their persons, they first rectified their hearts. Wishing to rectify their hearts, they first sought to be sincere in their thoughts. Wishing to be sincere in their thoughts, they first extended to the utmost their knowledge. Such extension of knowledge lay in the investigation of things. Things being investigated, knowledge became complete. Their knowledge being complete, their thoughts were sincere. Their thoughts being sincere, their hearts were then rectified. Their hearts being rectified, their persons were cultivated. Their persons being cultivated, their families were regulated. Their families being regulated, their states were rightly governed. Their states being rightly governed, the whole kingdom was made tranquil and happy. From the Son of Heaven down to the mass of the people, all must consider the cultivation of the person the root of everything besides. It cannot be, when the root is neglected, that what should spring from it will be well ordered. It never has been the case that what was of great importance has been slightly cared for, and, at the same time, that what was of slight importance has been greatly cared for. (Great Leaning in Legge 1983: 7–8) 古之欲明明德於天下者, 先治其國; 欲治其國者, 先齊其家; 欲齊其家者, 先修其身; 欲修其身者, 先正其心; 欲正其心者, 先誠其意; 欲誠其意者, 先致其知, 致知在格物。 物格而後知至, 知至而後意誠, 意誠而後心正, 心正而後身修, 身修而後家齊, 家齊而 後國治, 國治而後天下平。自天子以至於庶人, 壹是皆以修身為本。其本亂而末治者 否矣, 其所厚者薄, 而其所薄者厚, 未之有也!此謂知本, 此謂知之至也。

It seems that for each step to its following one, from gewu1 格物 (to investigate things/affairs), zhi1zhi2 致知 (to extend knowledge/understanding), chengyi 誠意 (to be sincere in thoughts/intentions), zhengxin 正心 (to rectify the mind/heart), xiushen 修身 (to cultivate oneself), qijia 齊家 (to regulate the family), zhiguo 治國 (to make the state well-ordered), to pingtianxia 平天下 (to made the whole kingdom to be tranquil and happy), there is a necessary condition in the sense that the following step cannot be well-done without the previous one. Since a necessary condition is not a sufficient condition, the well-done of the former step cannot guarantee the well-done of the latter step though the former is required and helpful or useful for the latter. It means that there is a relative independence in terms of cultivation or governance for each step from the first five clauses to the last three clauses though they are formed into a web of close relationship. So, even though we do not know from the text about the exact meaning of each one of the eight clauses, it is obvious that each step has its own work in terms of internal cultivation or external governance for people or institutions.

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In this chapter, the focus is on Zhu Xi’s interpretations of gewu1 and zhi1zhi2, especially his view on the meanings of these two notions and their relationship. But, how to interpret Zhu Xi’s interpretation is not the same problem as how to interpret gewu1 and zhi1zhi2 in the Great Learning though both are of close relation. To address the former problem, the two kinds of interpretation of Zhu Xi’s view about these two notions in the literature will be discussed later. In the next section, I will introduce and evaluate Zheng Xuan 鄭玄 and Zhu Xi’s interpretations. In the third section, I will discuss the first kind of interpretation of Zhu Xi’s view which treats both notions as epistemic concepts. In the fourth section, I will examine the second kind of interpretation which, first, interprets gewu1 as a study or examination of xing1li 性理 (i.e., the innate or intrinsic property, power or principle as being endowed from tian 天 (heaven) or the innate or intrinsic property, power or principle as the embodiment or realization of tiandao 天道 or tianli 天理) in things or affairs and, second, treats zhi1zhi2 as a non-epistemic concept. In conclusion, I will provide more textual evidence to support the second kind of interpretation and evaluate it as more reasonable.

2 Zheng Xuan and Zhu Xi’s Interpretations of Gewu1 and Zhi1zhi2 The first authoritative interpretation of these two notions is offered by Zheng Xuan, a great commentator in the late Han 漢 dynasty. In regard to the sentence “the furtherance/extension of knowledge/understanding lies in the investigation of things/ affairs” (zhi1zhi2 zai gewu1 致知在格物), his explication is2: Ge 格 means “to come;” wu1 物 is similar to “affairs.” He who is deep in the knowledge of the good will attract [lit. cause to things] good things; he who is deep in the knowledge of evil will attract evil things. That is: affairs come by way of what a man likes. This zhi1 致 (to be deep in) may be the same as zhi3 至 (to arrive).3 (Lau 1967: 353) 格, 來也; 物猶事也。其知於善深, 則來善物; 其知於惡深, 則來惡物。言事緣人所 好來也。此致或為至。

In the way of Zheng Xuan’s interpretation, gewu1 is treated as the result of zhi1zhi2 and the furtherance of knowledge/understanding seems to be necessary for knowing the good and the evil but not sufficient to guarantee one’s behavior to be good. Zhu Xi does not follow Zheng Xuan’s interpretation. Instead, he thinks that: Zhi1 致 means “to push to the ultimate.” Zhi2 知 is similar to shi 識 (understanding/recognition). To push my knowledge/understanding to the ultimate is to exhaust what is known/under-

 The translation is quoted from D. C. Lau (1967: 353). Hereafter, except for acknowledgement, all the other citations are translated by me. 3  The line cited by Lau is quoted from Correct Meaning of the book of Rites (Liji zhengyi 禮記正義) (See Kong 2001). 2

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stood. Ge means “to reach” and wu1 is similar to “affairs.” To reach to the utmost the principles of things is to arrive at the ultimate area of knowledge/understanding. (Zhu 1983a: 4) 致, 推極也。知, 猶識也。推極吾之知識, 欲其所知無不盡也。格, 至也。物, 猶事 也。窮至事物之理, 欲其極處無不到也。

As observed by D. C. Lau 劉殿爵, Zhu Xi takes a totally different line. He substitutes the gloss “to reach” for “to come,” but this does not solve the difficulty of interpretation for him. So, Lau makes his comment as follows: He is forced, in his commentary, to introduce ideas not in the original text. “To the utmost” is added as a qualification to the verb “to reach,” and “principles” is introduced simply to furnish an object suitable for the faculty of knowledge. That he was rather uneasy in his mind can be seen from the fact that in the passage he wrote to fill a purported lacuna in the text, he adopted a somewhat different wording, “That is to say, in order to further my knowledge, I have to go to things and exhaust their principles (yan yu zhi wu zhi zhi, zai ji wu er qiong qi li ye 言欲致吾之知, 在即物而窮其理也).4” (Lau 1967: 353–54)

In a sense this clarifies matters and show exactly what Zhu Xi has had to add to the text in order to make sense of it. I think Lau’s judgment is fair to Zhu Xi. Even though Zhu Xi’s interpretation is not strictly loyal to the original text, sympathetically speaking, it can be understood as his rational reconstruction. As a matter of fact, to replace Zheng Xuan’s interpretation, his theorization of these two notions with coherence for the whole book constitutes his new authoritative status in the study of the Great Learning. In comparison with Zhu Xi’s interpretation, Zheng Xuan’s difficulty is that he cannot explain the word zai 在 (lies in) between zhi1zhi2 and gewu1 in the sense that the latter is, in some sense, prior to the former. In other words, for Zheng Xuan, good or bad things/affairs being attracted is the result of being deep in knowledge/ understanding, not vice versa. So, it gives the priority to zhi1zhi2 which is in conflict with the sentence “the furtherance/extension of knowledge/understanding lies in the investigation of things/affairs” (zhi1zhi2 zai gewu1 致知在格物). If gewu1 is a necessary condition of zhi1zhi2 in terms of cultivation (or any other intentional action), Zhu Xi seems to have a good reason to reverse the direction of priority as claimed by Zheng Xuan. Nevertheless, as demonstrated above by Lau, adding words like “to the utmost” and “principles” to the original text without any supplementary explanation gives trouble to Zhu Xi though the term “qiongli” 窮理 appears in the chapter “Shuo Gua” 說卦 of the Commentary of the Book of Change (Yihuan 易傳). Sympathetically speaking, we may say that the adding words are the missing ones whose meaning is implied in the textual context and can be discovered by Zhu Xi’s rational reconstruction. If we accept this excuse and put much more emphasis on some parts of Zhu Xi’s writings, Zhu Xi’s view based on these pieces of textual evidence to support his interpretations of gewu1 and zhi1zhi2 may be understood as coherent in some sense. But, if we stress some other parts of his works, the story would be different. The ques-

 The line cited by Lau is quoted from An Annotation of the Great Learning (Daxue zhangju 大學 章句) (See Zhu 1983a). 4

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tion whether the textual evidence for the former can be treated as ­overriding those for the latter or vice versa is not easy to answer. Here, I think, both kinds of interpretation of Zhu Xi’s view, which will be discussed in the coming two sections, are coherent to some context, but not supported by all textual evidence. Nevertheless, I think, it is possible that one of the interpretations can be accepted as overriding the other one if we can find some good reasons from Zhu Xi’s texts to explain this problem.

3 The Epistemic Interpretation In Zhu Xi’s explanation for gewu1 and zhi1zhi2, he stresses their intimate relation as follows: That is to say, in order to further my knowledge/understanding, I have to go to things/affairs and exhaust their principles. (Zhu 1983a: 6) 言欲致吾之知, 在即物而窮其理也。

In this compound sentence, firstly, he interprets gewu1 as qiongli 窮理 (exhaust/ study principles [of things/affairs]). Secondly, he seems to treat the relation between gewu1 and zhi1zhi2 as two aspects of the same cognitive activity in the sense that gewu1 is the external aspect of the cognition while zhi1zhi2 is the internal aspect of the same activity. So, he says: Zhi1zhi2 (the extension of knowledge/understanding) and gewu1 (the investigation of things/ affairs) are merely one thing/events. It is not to investigate things/affairs today and then to extend knowledge/understanding tomorrow. The investigation of things/affairs is to say something about principles, while the extension of knowledge/understanding is to say something about the mind. (Zhu 1986: 292, 2908) 致知、格物, 只是一事。非是今日格物, 明日又致知。格物以理言, 致知以心言。

This passage gives scholars an impression that the external principle-seeking and the internal knowledge-grasping are two ways of expression for the same epistemic activity. As explained by Shun Kwong-loi 信廣來, Zhu Xi’s view is that: Gewu1 and zhi1zhi2 are different aspects of the same process, with gewu1 emphasizing one’s arrival at the li in affairs and zhi1zhi2 emphasizing an expansion of the mind’s knowledge of li. (Shun 2003: 268)

Similarly, according to Yü Ying-shih’s 余英時 reading, Zhu Xi’s view is that: “The investigation of things” (gewu1 格物) and “the extension of knowledge” (zhi1zhi2 致 知) are, in this case, taken as two different descriptions of the same operation seeking to discover the “principles” of things. We use the term gewu1 when we speak of this operation from the point of view of the object of investigation and the term zhi1zhi2 when we speak of it from the point of view of the knowing subject. (Yü 2016: 184)

Yu even claims that the intellectual process of gewu1 and zhi1zhi2 is independent of the interference from morality. He says:

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A closer examination shows, however, that “investigation of things” or “extension of knowledge”—the central and operative part of the entire system—is clearly a reference to an intellectual process by which knowledge is gained about “principles of things.” That this process is necessarily intellectual can be explained by the fact that in Zhu Xi’s conception, the mind (xin 心) is identified with material force (qi 氣), the most intelligent and sensitive of all the material forces. In investigating things, internal or external, the mind only seeks to know their constitutive principles in an objective way; it does not engage in moral activities of any kind on this level. Even though the initial decision to investigate a thing is a moral one and the knowledge thus gained is only to serve moral ends, there is nevertheless no indication that in Zhu Xi’s system morality is ever allowed to interfere directly with the intellectual operation of gewu1 or zhi1zhi2. Moral considerations always take place on a different (from the Neo-Confucian point of view, however, higher) level. (Yü 2016: 185)

With some minor differences, other scholars think that gewu1 is about knowing by virtue of perception while zhi1zhi2 is about knowing in terms of rational thinking. Some others treat gewu1 as a kind of cognitive activity and zhi1zhi2 as the result of this activity. Anyway, both notions are interpreted as epistemic concepts by these scholars.5 As we know, in this regard, the dominating voice in the literature is this kind of epistemic interpretation. The most influential view of this kind is that of Mou Zongsan 牟宗三. According to his view, Zhu Xi’s xin 心 (mind/heart) is below form (xing2erxia 形而下) and thus empirical and li 理 (principle) is above form (xing2ershang 形而上) and thus non-empirical. Nevertheless, the relation between the knowing power of the mind/heart and the principles of things/affairs is cognitive. So, the expression “zhi1zhi2 jiuwu1” 致知究物 (to extend knowledge/understanding to study things/affairs) is about the epistemic relation between the knowing mind and the known things. Even though Zhu Xi sometimes treats zhi2 知 as jue 覺, it means, Mou argues, zhi2jue 知覺 (perceptual knowing) rather than juewu2 覺悟 (enlightenment). (Mou 1990: 279, 370–74). Even though Zhu Xi treats the final state of zhi1zhi2 as huoran guantong 豁然貫通 or tuoran guantong 脫然貫通 (suddenly understand all things thoroughly) after the consistent process of gewu1 and zhi1zhi2, some scholars still think that “from accumulation [of knowledge] to thoroughly understanding (cong jilei dao guantong 從積累到貫通) and from thoroughly understanding to analogical reasoning or class-deducing” (you guantong dao tuilei 由貫通到推類) is a process of “induction and deduction” between what has been known and what has not yet been known (Chen 1990: 277). In other words, it is about the generalization of what has been known from gewu1 or qiongli by induction and the ratiocination of what has been generalized by deduction. Anyway, gewu1 and zhi1zhi2 are about two steps of a cognitive process and thus, here, Zhu Xi’s main concern is about grasping knowledge with a knowing process from external to internal. Earlier in the Ming 明 dynasty, as we also know, Wang Yangming 王陽明 was the great singer whose song is of a very different melody from Zhu Xi’s. He chal For example, the former view is held by Li Caiyuan 李才遠 (1982: 17–18), while the latter view is maintained by Chen Lai 陳來 (1990: 140). 5

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lenged Zhu Xi’s theory of zhi2 知 (knowing) and xing3 行 (action) and complained that: “To search for li outside of xin is the reason why zhi2 and xing3 have been treated as two separated things.” On the basis of his reasoning, Wang asks, “Is it [i.e., the li of commiseration] really inside the body of a child [seen falling into a well]? Or does it issue from the liangzhi2 良知 (innate knowing power/ dominating capacity) of my mind?” (Wang Y. 1992: 45). In other words, without the mental causation of the mind, the emerging and flowing (fasheng liuxing3 發 生流行) of tianli or liangzhi2 cannot be accomplished in action and, without such emerging and flowing, liangzhi2 would stay merely in the internal domain and would be unstable, not strong enough to activate action. So, Wang rejects Zhu’s idea of gewu1 in terms of qiongli and, instead, interprets ge as zheng 正 (rectify). His new definition is: “Ge means to rectify [behaviors]. To rectify what is not rectified is to turn it into the rectified state” (Wang Y. 1992: 972). In general, he thinks that Zhu’s interpretation of gewu1 and zhi1zhi2 is an epistemic approach and argues that the approach is the main reason to make him to separate the unity of zhi2 and xing3. Another challenge comes from Wang Fuzhi 王夫之. He thinks that Zhu Xi’s idea seems to treat gewu1 as an act of cultivation (gongfu 工夫) and zhi1zhi2 as the result of such an act, or to interpret both concepts as two aspects of the same act of cultivation. So, he concludes, if we accept Zhu Xi’s view, the original sentence zhi1zhi2 zai gewu1 (the furtherance/extension of knowledge/understanding lies in the investigation of things/affairs.) would become “gewu1 zai gewu1” 格物在格物 (the investigation of things/affairs lies in the investigation of things/affairs.) or “zhi1zhi2 zai zhi1zhi2” 致知在致知 (the furtherance/extension of knowledge/understanding lies in the furtherance/extension of knowledge/understanding) (Wang F. 1996: 402). It is obvious that this kind of tautology is not an idea embedded in the original text. Although this epistemic approach has been challenged by many later Confucians and modern scholars since Wang Yangming, they do think that the epistemic reading of Zhu Xi’s view has no problem. Nevertheless, in the last 50 years, a minority of modern scholars have given a non-epistemic interpretation for Zhu Xi’s view on zhi1zhi2. Here, the question is: which one is the better understanding of Zhu Xi’s idea: the epistemic or the non-epistemic approach?

4 The Non-epistemic Interpretation I think there is no disagreement among scholars about the epistemic role of gewu1. However, a small number of scholars argue that zhi1zhi2 is not an epistemic concept; instead, it is a concept crucial for moral learning in terms of cultivation or spiritual transformation and not a concept about knowledge or cognitive activity. In contrast

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to Mou Zongsan, Tang Junyi 唐君毅 is one of the minority who makes a voice to reject the epistemic role of zhi1zhi2. He says: What is said by Zhu Xi about the matter of gewu1 and qiongli, actually, should be understood from three aspects: first, our mind’s approaching those things outside; second, knowing the li of this thing, seeing the li [as] inside the thing and also in my knowing; and third, my “knowing the li” is not separate from the original state of my mind (xin [zhi] ti 心[之] 體) in which there is a function (yong 用) of “knowing the li.” This function of knowing li is the self-disclosure of the li, which is owned by the original state of mind, in the knowing. So, to say that the original state of the mind has li is to say that the mind has li as its original state, as its essential nature (xing1 性). However, the disclosure of the xing1li 性理 [the li immanent in mind as xing1] relies on the mind’s having approach to what is known from things for revelation. So, not separating from things to zhi1zhi2 and qiongli is aiming at further disclosing the li owned in the original state of our mind and also disclosing our xing1 which lets us know the xing1 further. Hence, the matter of qiongli is the matter of knowing essential nature (zhi2xing1 知性). Knowing xing1 is basically knowing the original state and the essential nature of mind in myself. Nevertheless, not to contact things for zhi1zhi2 and qiongli, again, we cannot really clearly disclose and knowing the xing1. (Tang 1990: 271) 朱子所謂格物窮理之事, 實當自三面了解:其一是:吾人之心之向彼在外之物; 二是: 知此物之理, 而見此理之在物, 亦在我之知中; 三是:我之「知此理」, 即我之心體之有 一「知此理」之用。此知理之用, 即此心體所具此理之自顯於此知中; 故謂心體具理, 即謂心具理以為其體、為其性也。然此性理之顯, 必待於心之有其所向所知之物而 得顯。故即其物以致其知、窮其理, 即所以更顯吾人之心體中所原具之此理, 亦所以 顯吾人之性, 而使吾人更知此性者。故窮理之事, 即知性之事。知性本為知自己內在 的心之體、心之性。然不接物而致其知、窮其理, 又不能真昭顯此性而知性。

If we put aside Tang’s complicated metaphysical explanation of Zhu Xi’s view, this passage does give us a significant point to understand Zhu Xi’s idea. That is: Zhu Xi is not so naïve to treat gewu1 and zhi1zhi2 as two aspects of the same activity of knowing. It is because, first, if so, zhi1zhi2 is not an independent gongfu in the moral teaching of the Great Learning; second, as Wang Yangming’s challenge shows, the knowledge from outside is not relevant to moral learning in Confucianism; and third, there is no empirical study or investigation by which we can directly know the non-empirical li whose ontological status is both transcendent as tianli and immanent as xing1li, as described by Zhu Xi himself. A more clear expression of this idea offered by Yang Rurbin 楊儒賓 is that: though gewu1 to zhi1zhi2 are not separated in the process of reaching dao, there is a quantum jump in the sense that the final state of zhi1zhi2 as huoran guantong is not an epistemic act, but a kind of enlightenment reaching the state or vision of unifying xin and li, i.e., daoxin 道心 (Yang 2002: 238). In other words, if one suddenly arrives this vision through the consistent spiritual exercise of zhi1zhi2, the different xing1li in things or affairs known from gewu1 would be transformed into the one and only one dao, tianli, or taiji 太極 grasped or entertained by the mind. That is the true knowing (zhenzhi2 真知) which is of strong willing power to cause the moral action (xing3 行). Nevertheless, is there any textual evidence to support this kind of interpretation? I think the answer to this question, at least, should refer to Zhu Xi’s claim about the real relation between gewu1 and zhi1zhi2, his understanding of the role of private or selfish desires (siyu 私欲) in the act of zhi1zhi2, and his idea of zhi2 and jiao, shu 恕 (reciprocity or extension between similar cases) and guantong.

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5 Why the Non-epistemic Interpretation Is Better? I think Zhu Xi does claim that gewu1 and zhi1zhi2 are merely one thing/affair (zhishi yishi 只是一事). This is one of the reasons why most scholars think that they are two aspects of the same thing or two stages of one cognitive process. But, when Zhu Xi uses the phrase zhishi yishi, does he really mean that they are two aspects of one thing or identical with each other? Of course not. If they are identical, there would be no need to stress the important role of guantong in the final state of zhi1zhi2. Are they two stages of one epistemic process or about the one process between a cognitive act and its result? It seems to make sense for Zhu Xi’s words. I agree that, sometimes, he uses that phrase in this sense. But, sometimes, he also uses it to mean two things which are not separate but distinct. For example, he says: The gongfu for scholars relies on two things: jujing 居敬 (to hold in the state of reverence/ concentrative spirit) and qiongli. If one can qiongli, then his gongfu of jujing would be proceeded day by day. If one can jujing, then his gongfu of qiongli would be much more sophisticated. Just like the two feet of a man. When the left goes, then the right halts; when the right goes, then the left halts. . . . actually they are one thing. (Zhu 1986: 150) 學者工夫, 唯在居敬、窮理二事。此二事互相發。能窮理, 則居敬工夫日益進; 能 居敬, 則窮理工夫日益密。譬如人之兩足, 左足行, 則右足止; 右足行, 則左足止。其 實只是一事。 Jing 敬 (reverence/concentrative spirit) and yi 義 (righteousness) are merely one thing. Just like standing stably with two feet is jing, about to walk is yi; closing eyes is jing, opening eyes is yi. (Zhu 1986: 216) 敬、義只是一事。如兩腳立定是敬, 才行是義; 合目是敬, 開眼見物便是義。

In the first passage, in terms of the act of gongfu, jujing and qiongli are two distinct things; but in terms of their non-separation in promoting each other, they are one thing. Similarly, the attitude of jing is helpful for the practice of yi, so, in this sense, they are one thing in moral practice. But, they are not the same thing in terms of their distinct acts of gongfu. That is: one can be jing without yi. In the second passage, Zhu Xi thinks that, for scholars, qiongli, jinxing1 盡性 (to exhaust one’s essential nature) and zhi3ming 至命 (to achieve one’s moral destiny) are step by step to do (jiejie zuoqu 節節做去) in terms of gongfu, but, for the sage, it is just one thing (Zhu 1986: 2477). Besides, in explaining the Analects, Zhu Xi quotes Chengzi’s 程子 (Cheng Hao 程顥) saying that “treating yi 義 (righteousness) as essential, making action with li 禮 (rites), expressing it in sun 孫 (humility),6 and completing it with xin 信 (sincerity/faithfulness) are only one thing.” But, it is obvious that these four acts of intentionality are distinct and cannot be treated as identical. So he says that: “There must be procedure of steps to put it into practice” (xing3 zhi bi you jiewen 行之必有節文) (Zhu 1983b: 165). Moreover, his view on the relation between xian zhu ren 顯諸仁 (revelation of humanity) and cang zhu yong 藏諸用 (storing of functioning) is very interesting. He thinks that the former has many visible (ke jian di 可見底) forms while the latter is only an invisible (buke jian  The Chinese character “孫” is the same as “遜” in classical Chinese.

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di 不可見底) thing. Without the ground or backbone (guzi 骨子) of the invisible, it is impossible to have many manifestations of the invisible (Zhu 1986: 1898). It seems like the case that the software can be installed to be exhibited in the hardware, the xian 顯 (revelation/exhibition) of xian zhu ren is the exhibition or realization of what is cang (storing/lurking) of cang zhu yong. Although Zhu Xi regards these two as one thing in terms of the realization of the invisible base or root (ben 本) in the various visible signs or manifested forms (ji 跡), his view on the relation of xian and cang indicates that they are two distinct things in terms of their different ontological statuses of visible and invisible, below form (xing2ershang 形而上) and above form (xing2erxia 形而下). If my explanation of Zhu Xi’s view mentioned above is right, I think, when Zhu Xi claims that gewu1 and zhi1zhi2 are yikua de shi 一胯底事 (one thing of the hip) and it is just like “to compare the left finger with the right one” (Zhu 1986: 290), he does not regard these two things as identical. Instead, he treats them as two things of close relationship. So, in terms of gongfu, not only gewu1 and zhi1zhi2, but other three acts of cultivation—chengyi, zhengxin and xiushen—are also gongfu with relative independence. Let’s see the following evidence: Gewu1, zhi1zhi2, chengyi, zhengxin and xiushen are nothing but making gongfu to illustrate illustrious virtue. (Zhu 1986: 308) 格物、致知、誠意、正心、修身, 卻是下工夫以明其明德耳。 Actually, these five are in a string; but in terms of making gongfu, each one has its own matter. (Zhu 1986: 354) 五者 [格物、致知、誠意、正心、修身] 其實則相串, 而以做工夫言之, 則各自為 一事。 The reason why there are many steps [of gongfu] in the Great Learning is to ask scholars to make effort in each step. It is not like a bamboo with one single node that people would arrive at the end of making the kingdom in order if they can gewu1. (Zhu 1986: 355) 大學所以有許多節次, 正欲學者逐節用工。非如一無節之竹, 使人才能格物則便 到平天下也。

Here, the clear message given by Zhu Xi is that: Generally, from gewu1 to xiushen, each step in terms of gongfu is relatively independent, i.e., each step has its special function and contribution in cultivation, though each step is helpful for the following step and needs the previous step’s help. In regard to the special and intimate relation between gewu1 and zhi1zhi2, I think the necessity of gewu1 for zhi1zhi2 is that: even though one makes effort to do the gongfu of zhi1zhi2, without the external approaching of gewu1, one would be unable to reach the final state of guantong. Since jumping from what is achieved from gewu1 to the final state of zhi2zhi3 知至 (zhi2 in the exhausted and real state) through the gongfu of zhi1zhi2 致知 (extending knowledge/understanding) is a cooperation between two kinds of heterogeneous gongfu, it is why zhi1zhi2 is relatively independent of gewu1. If gewu1 and zhi1zhi2 are two heterogeneous gongfu which are relatively independent to each other, here a further question is: why the former is necessary for the

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latter? I think the answer is related to Zhu Xi’s comparison of the Confucian and Buddhist conceptions of li 理 (for Zhu Xi, the li of Confucianism is an onto-­ cosmological entity embedded with a functional property or principle whose ontological status is both transcendent and immanent) and his criticism of the latter. He thinks that the difference between the two concepts is that: the Confucian li is real (shi 實) while the Buddhist li is empty (kong 空) (Zhu 1986: 3015). It is because Buddhist saying about holding in reverence/concentrating for making the inner upright (jing yi zhi nei 敬以直內) is empty which cannot be realized in practicing righteously for extending to the external everywhere (yi yi fang wai 義以方外) (Zhu 1986: 3015). So, he says that: “gewu1 and zhi1zhi2 are yi yi fang wai” (格物致知是義 以方外) (Zhu 1986: 1739). Without gewu1 and zhi1zhi2, even though the Buddhist wants to jing yi zhi nei, it would be only playing the shadow (wannong guangjing 玩 弄光景) in the mind and thus does not have numerous [xing1-]li following this gongfu (wu3 yi ju zhong li yixia zhi shi 無以具眾理以下之事) (Zhu 1986: 266). He describes this mutual gongfu as the way of cooperation between the internal and the external (he nei wai zhi dao 合內外之道) (Zhu 1986: 1740) or mutual cultivation between the internal and the external (nei wai jiao xiang yang 內外交相養) (Zhu 1986: 200). That is: in addition to the internal gongfu of jing yi zhi nei, one has to do the external gongfu of qiongli (Zhu 1986: 2879). So, he concludes that: “I treat [the Confucian] xin and li in unity as one while they [the Buddhist] treat xin and li as separated into two.” It is because their xin is empty and thus is not embedded with ten-thousand [many] li. He also argues that this is due to their not knowing the selfishness coming from natural endowments and material desires and, against this, it is the reason why the Great Learning stresses the importance of gewu1 (Zhu 1986: 3015). Another question is: Is gewu1 sufficient for zhi1zhi2? My answer is “no.” It is because it is not only that zhi1zhi2 致知 in its final state of zhi2 zhi3 知至 or guantong is coming after gewu1, but also zhi1zhi2 in its sprouting (menglu 萌露) state is prior to gewu1. And, most importantly, without the sprouting of the zhi2 of zhi1zhi2 at the very beginning of making gongfu, there would be no right direction for the gongfu of gewu1. So, he explains this problem by giving his disciple the following answer: Ren Daodi asks: “In the chapter of “Zhi1zhi2,” what has been said about qiongli is that: ‘to follow the li that has been known/understood [zhi2] and then to exhaust them [by gewu1] increasingly.’ But, in the classical text, it says that: ‘wu1ge 物格 and then followed by zhi2zhi3.’ Now, you said: ‘[gewu1] following what has been known/understood [zhi2].’ So, zhi2 is prior to gewu1.” [It seems contradictory.] Zhu Xi says: “We already have zhi2 in advance. When we are going to be aware of this, it is the sprouting of this zhi2. If we are muddled without paying attention to it, the sprouting point of zhi2 has not yet gone through. . . . What Mencius said about ‘expanding and resupplying it [that is liangzhi2 良知, an innate knowing power]’ is actually the meaning of ‘zhi1’” (Zhu 1986: 324). 任道弟問:「〈致知章〉前說窮理處云:『因其已知之理而益窮之。』且經文『物格 而后知至』, 卻是知至在後。今乃云『因其已知而益窮之』, 則又在格物前。」曰:「 知先自有。才要去理會, 便是這些知萌露。若懵然全不向著, 便是知之端未曾 通。⋯⋯孟子所謂⋯⋯『擴而充之』, 便是『致』字意思。」

Here, the zhi2 which emerges in advance is Mencius’ liangzhi2. Liangzhi2 and liangneng 良能 (innate capability), as described by Mencius and used by Zhu Xi, are

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originally endowed (ben zhi you zhi 本自有之). Only when it is covered by selfish idea, would it be in the state of darkness without brightness. To return to its original state (fu qi chu 復其初), one has to make effort in gongfu, such as gewu1 and zhi1zhi2. It is just like removing the dust from a mirror for regaining its original brightness (Zhu 1986: 262, 267). Furthermore, Zhu Xi also thinks that it is not only that the zhi2 in terms of liangzhi2 is originally owned by people, but also that dao/li, in general, is self-owned and thus not obtained from the external. So, to zhi2 means to know my dao/li, it is not to use my zhi2 to know that dao/li over there. However, although dao/li is originally owned, it is necessary to use zhi2 to make it to disclose or activate (fa chu lai 發出來) (Zhu 1986: 382). If it is necessary to activate the originally endowed zhi2 (i.e., liangzhi2) to disclose the self-owned dao/li, and it is also necessary to make the gongfu of gewu1 for preventing shadow playing of something like the Buddhist kongli 空理 (empty li), then, on the one hand, zhi1zhi2 致知 in its prior state is necessary for gewu1 to direct the right way to grasp the shili 實理 (real li); and, on the other hand, gewu1 is also necessary for zhi1zhi2 to reach the final state of guantong (i.e., zhi2zhi3 知至). So, they are closely related but mutually independent. That is Zhu Xi’s idea of “mutual cultivation between the internal and the external.” In regard to the problem of missing the right way to grasp shili, Zhu Xi makes the following warning: In discussing gewu1, even though Yi Chuan 伊川 (Cheng Yi 程頤) intends to say that what appears to our eyes is nothing but things, to investigate them is required to follow the order of greater or lesser urgency. How could we hastily put our mind to something among the grass and tree, the implement and tool, and then suddenly have ties with enlightenment? Now, if we want to learn without exhausting tianli, understanding human relationships, discussing the sage’s words, and comprehending the ways of the world, and then seemingly put our mind to something among the grass and tree, what kind of learning is this? In this case, to want to obtain something [in moral learning] is [just like] to cook sand for making dinner. (Zhu 2000: 1649) 格物之論, 伊川意雖謂眼前無非是物, 然其格之也, 亦須有緩急先後之序。豈遽以 為存心於一草木器用之間, 而忽然懸悟也哉?且如今為此學而不窮天理, 明人倫, 講聖 言, 通世故, 乃兀然存心於一草木一器用之間, 此是何學問?如此而望有所得, 是炊沙 而欲其成飯也。

The consequence of this kind of chasing things, for Zhu Xi, indicates that it is not the proper way of gewu1. He describes this kind of chasing as dajun youqi wu3suogui 大軍遊騎無所歸 (no way for the great army and mounted solders to go back home) (Zhu 1986: 400). I think his message is that: gewu1 is not only to approach things, but also to know how to disclose each xing1li immanent in each thing and, more importantly, to guantong each xing1li to unify with the transcendent tianli. That is the final stage of enlightenment. In this stage, one can enter the spiritual state of the whole body with great function (quanti dayong 全體大用). That is: going back home to the originally bright virtue or fully revealing the originally endowed liangzhi2. One of the most crucial power of reverse which can be understood by Zhu Xi as an obstacle of the mutual cultivation of gewu1 and zhi1zhi2 to the final stage of enlightenment is private desires or selfish ideas and the calculation of the intellect (zisi er yongzhi 自私而用智). So, he thinks that evil behaviors are emerged from the

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natural dispositions and material desires of people’s egoism (qibing wu1yu zhi si 氣 稟物欲之私). Here, their mind is renxin 人心 (the mind which is muddled with qi), which is polluted with siyu 私欲 (selfish desires), rather than daoxin 道心 (the mind which is inseparable from dao/li) (Zhu 1986: 86). He also thinks that to use the intellect with calculation is unable to use the clear intuition (mingjue 明覺) to do things naturally or spontaneously (ziran 自然). Instead, the mind with clear intuition is able to make natural response to the input of the external things (wu1lai er shunying 物來而順應). It is because the mind is in the extensive and great state of impartiality (kuoran er dagong 廓然而大公) (Zhu 1986: 2443–44). As mentioned above, merely chasing the external to gewu1 without guiding by activating the original endowed liangzhi2 to zhi1zhi2 is unable to remove or overcome qibing wu1yu zhi si. Instead, based on the cooperation of gewu1 and zhi1zhi2 in the sense that zhi1zhi2 is going through a process both prior to and posterior to gewu1, it is helpful for guantong. That is: a quantum jump from knowing many different xing1lis immanent in different things/events to the one and only one, the same, transcendent tianli. In this regard, the concept of guantong cannot be understood without knowing Zhu Xi’s ideas of li yi fen shu 理一分殊 (one li with many manifestations) or yiben wanshu 一本萬殊 (one root with 10,000 manifestations) and tiyong 體用 (the original state/substance with functions) or fasheng liuxing3 發 生流行 (the emerging and flowing of tianli or liangzhi2). I think the former is an idea with a pantheist color while the latter can be understood in terms of multiple realizations.7 When people reach the final state of guantong and thus grasp or entertain a spiritual vision of the both transcendent and immanent tianli, dao or taiji 太 極 (the great ultimate [entity]), they would have true knowing (zhenzhi2 真知) or great enlightenment (dajue 大覺) and thus have willing power to guarantee the success of moral action.

6  Yiben Wanshu and Liuxing3 Fasheng It is highly possible that Zhu Xi’s idea of yiben wanshu or li yi fen shu can be understood as a rational reconstruction of the pantheist idea of the Buddhist nature or principle from the Huayan 華嚴 School. Both have the belief that their ultimate entity, property or power is both transcendent and immanent or “the one is the many” not in the sense that their relation is “many in [unity with] one,” but in the sense that “many as [identical with] one.”

 Multiple realization or realizability, in the philosophy of mind, is the thesis that the same mental property, state or event can be implemented or manifested by different physical properties, states or events. Similarly, Zhu Xi’s idea of li yi fen shu also has the characteristic of multiple realization in the sense that tianli which is above form and transcendent can be manifested, exhibited or embodied in things/events constituted of qi氣 (material or vital force), which is below form and empirical. In regard to this concept, please see John Bickle (2013) and William Jaworski (n.d.). 7

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Since there is not enough place for us to go into details of the ambivalence about Zhu Xi’s ideas that “li is [cosmologically] prior to qi” (li sheng qi 理生氣or li xianyu qi 理先於氣) and “li is [ontologically] immanent in qi” (li zai qi zhong 理在 氣中 or li buli qi 理不離氣), let us put aside this problem.8 However, he does have a pantheist kind of idea in this regard. For example, he says: Question: “In the commentary on the chapter of ‘Li, Xing1 and Ming,’ you said: ‘From the root/base to its following incidents, the real entity of one li is divided by ten thousand things/affairs into different parts. So, each of the ten thousand things/affairs has their taiji respectively.’ In this case, is the taiji split up?” Answer: “Originally, there is only one taiji. But, each of the ten thousand things/affairs has their specific endowment and also wholly has one taiji respectively. Just like the moon in the sky is only one. When it distributes in rivers and lakes, we can see it everywhere and cannot describe the moon as being divided.” (Zhu 1986: 2409) 問:「『理性命』章注云:『自其本而之末, 則一理之實, 而萬物分之以為體, 故萬 物各有一太極。』如此, 則是太極有分裂乎?」曰:「本只是一太極, 而萬物各有稟受, 又自各全具一太極爾。如月在天, 只一而已; 及散在江湖, 則隨處而見, 不可謂月已分 也。」

As indicated by his analogy about the moon in the sky and [the inverted image of] the moon in the rivers which is borrowed from Buddhism, he seems to hold the similar skeleton of “the one is many and the many is one” (yi ji duo 一即多 and duo ji yi 多即一). So, he maintains that “ten thousand [xing1-] lis are nothing but one [tian-] li.” So, he says: To say ten thousand entities is about one entity; to say one entity is about ten thousand entities. In general, all together are one taiji, but each one thing/affair also has its own taiji. (Zhu 1986: 2409) 言萬個是一個, 一個是萬個, 蓋體統是一太極, 然又一物各具一太極。

In addition to using the analogy of moon, Zhu Xi also uses water and burning-­hot tong to explain that the transcendent tianli can be realized in different things as xing1li. He thinks that, just like water can be filled in different containers, tianli can be realized in different things. He also thinks that, metaphorically, the sage is filled with all the functions of water while ordinary scholars can only be filled with a part. But, actually, they are the same water. Similarly, he argues, we cannot treat the incense scoop (xiangshi 香匙) as the ti of the burning-hot tongs (huozhu 火箸) and the burning-hot tongs as the yong of the incense scoop. Ti and yong are one thing. Yiben is wanshu and wanshu is yiben (Zhu 1986: 677). Zhu Xi deeply knows that how to identify yiben (i.e., the transcendent tianli) or wanshu (i.e., the immanent xing1li) is not easy. However, in comparison, he thinks that the latter is relatively more difficult to identify (Zhu 1986: 677–80). Both tianli and xing1li are above form and thus not empirically observable though the perceived things and events can be empirically recognized. So, it is not only that the transcendent is not easy to grasp, but also that the immanent is difficult to identify. Here, for Zhu Xi, to find out something which is transcendent can be done through the whole  In regard to this problem, I have given a detailed explanation elsewhere. Please see Fung (1993).

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process of gewu1 and zhi1zhi2. Although to go through the whole process until guantong is not easy, to identify something which is immanent is more difficult. It is because the only way to do it is to go through a process of discovering or disclosing something which is above form from the perceivable things and events through empirical investigation. In other words, this is to find out something above form from something below form. How can we finish this difficult job? Is it a mission impossible? Even though it is difficult, Zhu Xi still thinks that we can finish the job. I think his key to open the black box to disclose or discover xing1li is a method of transcendental argument or transcendental deduction.9 Let’s see the following examples: Chengzi said: “Based on one’s compassion, we know that s/he has ren.” That is: based on what emerges externally, we know that there is xing1 inside. (Zhu 1986: 465) 程子曰:「因其惻隱, 知其有仁。」因其外面發出來底, 便知是性在裏面。 Li 理 is invisible. But, based on the performance of love and appropriate action, holding reverence and distinguishing right and wrong, we know that the li of ren 仁, yi 義 (righteousness), li 禮 (rites) and zhi 智 (wisdom) are inside. (Zhu 1986: 468) 理不可見。因其愛與宜, 恭敬與是非, 而知有仁義禮智之理在其中。 If this is the case, then it must have that by which this is the case. The management of mind and cultivation of oneself are essential; to sprinkle water, sweep away the dirt and social contact are less essential. Both are the happening of events. In regard to that by which events happen, that is li. No matter it is refined or not, essential or not, both are one in unity. (Zhu 1986: 1210) 「是其然, 必有所以然」。治心修身是本, 「洒掃應對」是末, 皆其然之事也。至 於所以然, 則理也。理無精粗本末, 皆是一貫。 Between the heaven and the earth, the above is the heaven and the below is the earth. There are many things including the sun and the moon, mountains and rivers, grasses and trees, human beings, birds and beasts, all these are implements of below form. But, just inside these implements of below form, there is a dao/li owned by each of them. This is the dao above form. What we call “gewu1” is intended to exhaust that dao/li of above form in these implements of below form. How could we just treat these implements of below form as the dao/li of above form? (Zhu 1986: 1496) 天地中間, 上是天, 下是地, 中間有許多日月星辰, 山川草木, 人物禽獸, 此皆形而下 之器也。然這形而下之器之中, 便各自有箇道理。此便是形而上之道。所謂格物, 便 是要就這形而下之器, 窮得那形而上之道理而已。如何便將形而下之器作形而上之 道理得?

For both Cheng Yi and Zhu Xi, compassion or love as emotion or feeling belongs to qi which is below form or empirical while ren (as shengsheng 生生) or yi (as moral principle) belongs to li which is above form or non-empirical. To know what is above form from what is below form is based on the belief or faith that without li there is no qi which can emerge appropriately. In other words, the possibility of all the rightness of functions by virtue of qi or, less onto-cosmologically  I think there are two kinds of transcendental argument or transcendental deduction in modern philosophical literature. Detailed analysis of this distinction of the two kinds can be found in Fung (2006). 9

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speaking, the possibility of all the appropriate intentional actions, presupposes the existence of the immanent li. When Zhu Xi says that “based on the li which has been known to further exhaust it [or to further investigate the li which has not yet been known]” (yin qi yi zhi zhi li er yi qiong zhi 因其已知之理而益窮之), what he really means is that “based on the place of emergence and exhibition to exhaust it in further investigation” (yin qi faxianchu cong er qiong jiu zhi 因其發見[現]處從而 窮究之) (Zhu 1986: 263). In other words, it is not really to mean that one can know the li directly by gewu1 or qiongli. Instead, one can only know the li indirectly through the emergence or exhibition of li in wu1. That is a transcendental deduction or transcendental argument. Let’s put aside the problem of validity of this kind of transcendental deduction or transcendental argument. I think the notion of faxianchu 發見[現]處 (the place of the emergence and exhibition of li) is crucial for Zhu Xi’s argument. As mentioned in last section, this notion can be interpreted as “realization.” I think the faxianqu is a place which shows that the invisible li is realized in the visible wu1 (things/events). Just like the invisible software as formal program can be realized in the visible hardware, the relation between xing1li and wu1, I think, is realization. The following examples can be interpreted in this way: Liu asks question about zhong 忠 (loyalty or real) and shu 恕 (extending or reciprocity). It is said [by Zhu Xi] that: “Zhong is the real li. Zhong is nothing but one li, and shu is nothing but its ten thousand manifestations. Just like [what is said in the Book of Poetry] that ‘the mandate of the heaven is bright and everlasting’ it is merely to describe that this real li is flowing and emerging the ten thousand things. So, [when it is flowing and emergence] the cow endowed with it becomes the cow, the horse endowed with it becomes the horse, and the grass and tree endowed with it become the grass and tree.” (Zhu 1986: 695) 劉問忠恕。曰:「忠即是實理。忠則一理, 恕則萬殊。如『維天之命, 於穆不已』, 亦只以這實理流行, 發生萬物。牛得之為牛, 馬得之而為馬, 草木得之而為草木。」 It is also [about the problem of] extending self to things. If one can extend, things and oneself could be guantong, there would be a sign of the entity of infinite shengsheng [i.e., ren], and also a scene/vision that “the heaven and earth are changing and the grasses and trees are luxuriant.” The heaven and earth are only of this kind of dao/li. If one cannot extend, things and one’s self would be separated. One would want to have benefit for oneself, but not for others; one would want to be rich, but want others to be poor; and one would want to be long-living, but want others to die young. Just like this scene/vision, it can be described as totally inaccessible and isolated, it is similar to [the scene/vision] that “the heaven and earth are inaccessible and the gentlemen are hidden.” (Zhu 1986: 690) 亦只推己以及物。推得去, 則物我貫通, 自有箇生生無窮底意思, 便有「天地變化, 草木蕃」氣象。天地只是這樣道理。若推不去, 物我隔絕。欲利於己, 不利於人; 欲 己之富, 欲人之貧; 欲己之壽, 欲人之夭。似這氣象, 全然閉塞隔絕了, 便似「天地閉, 賢人隱」。

The message from these passages is that: The tianli of shengsheng realized in things cannot be known by empirical investigation and logical reasoning, either by induction or deduction. What is subject to inductive reasoning or generalization is phenomena of the same kind, while by tui 推 (to extend or push forward) or shu 恕 (to extend or reciprocate) by virtue of extending the endowed and hidden li of shengsheng in the internal (mind) to the immanent and invisible li of shengsheng in the

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external (things and events) is a way or strategy to substantiate and disclose the li of shengsheng at utmost (without committing to the situation of playing shadow [wan nong quang ying 玩弄光景], just like the case of Buddhism). So, tui or shu is not to extend what is known from things or events, but to extend what is hidden in mind to penetrate what is endowed in things for jumping into a higher level of knowing, i.e., enlightenment or spiritual transformation. According to Zhu Xi’s view, if one cannot extend the originally immanent or inherently endowed xing1li in her/his mind (liangzhi2 or benyou zhi zhi2 本有之知) to what is known from the investigation of the xing1li immanent in particular things or events, s/he cannot tread their self and things or events together in the sense that the xing1li immanent in external things or events is related or connected to the xing1li immanent in her/his mind. So, on the one hand, his mental state may be dominated by selfish ideas and thus cannot enter the spiritual vision of the creative creativity of benevolence/humanity (sheng-sheng zhi ren 生生之仁); on the other hand, if one cannot enter the spiritual vision of the creative creativity of benevolence/humanity, what is immanent in things or events, i.e., their particular xing1li, cannot be linked up to what is immanent in her/his mind and thus her/his mind cannot penetrate all the outer and inner xing1lis and also cannot be enlightened into a spiritual vision that all the outer and inner xing1lis are identical with the transcendent tianli. So, based on this idea of realization, Zhu Xi says that: Each grass and each tree and other things like waring kudzu in summer and fur cloth in winter, the relationship of the monarch and his subjects and that of father and son, and the items of instrument in the system of rites and music, all are the flowing of tianli. (Zhu 1986: 1049) 一草一木, 與他夏葛冬裘, 渴飲飢食, 君臣父子, 禮樂器數, 都是天理流行。

Here, the idea of tianli liuxing3 天理流行 (the flowing of tianli) or fasheng wanwu1 發生萬物 (the emergence of ten-thousand things) is the natural activation of tianli’s realization or manifestation in human affairs and physical things. Before tianli’s fasheng liuxing3, it is one; after its fasheng liuxing3, the tianli is immanent in human affairs and physical things as xing1lis, they are many. But, one is many and many is one. This can be called liyi fenshu” (one li with different manifestations) or yiben wanshu (one root/base with many manifestations).

7  Guantong and Zhenzhi2 It seems to some scholars that Zhu Xi sometimes uses the term guantong 貫通 or huitong 會通 (understand thoroughly) to describe a process of generalization or universalization through induction, class-deducing or analogical reasoning (Chen 1990: 277). I do not think this is Zhu Xi’s idea. It is because we cannot use induction, class-deducting or analogical reasoning to obtain something from the empirical to the non-empirical, from the below form to the above form, or, most importantly, from the realizer to the realizee. The only way to make reasoning or inference from the realizer to the realizee is by transcendental argument or

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transcendental deduction which includes a premise of transcendental presupposition. That is: the possibility of the realizer presupposes the existence or subsistence of the realizee. Nevertheless, Zhu Xi’s idea is much more complicated than that of transcendental presupposition. He is not merely to claim that the non-empirical tianli necessitates the emergence of empirical wu1 (things or events) in which there is some xing1lis immanent, but also that, in the way pantheism or panpsychism, the transcendent tianli is identical with the many xing1lis which are immanent in wu1. So, I believe, guantong or huitong is a self-transcendence or spiritual transformation with a kind of quantum jump from the empirical to the non-empirical, from the below form to the above form. Without this kind of jump, for Zhu Xi, there would be no real enlightenment. Another reason to justify my view that guantong or huitong is not a kind of method like induction, class-deducing or analogical reasoning is that xin as cognitive faculty and xing1 as li [immanent in wu1] are originally or inherently guantong (benlai guantong 本來貫通). So, it is not necessary to really make it (Zhu 1986: 5). I think, as he sometimes maintains, it is about the case of the sage. In regard to the ordinary scholars, to achieve guantong through gewu1 and zhi1zhi2 is most desirable, if not logically necessary. Anyway, if xin and xing1li is originally or inherently guantong, there would be no need to appeal to the method of induction or deduction. But, why is it still most desirable for ordinary people to achieve guantong through gewu1 and zhi1zhi2? It is because this original brightness of virtue is often covered or polluted by the inherent or natural dispositions and the external stimulations which often cause our mind in a muddled state. That is a mind of the selfish or self-centered state. In this regard, it is the reason why most Confucians, including Zhu Xi, stress the thesis of fu qi chu 復其初 (return to their original nature) and fan qiu zhu ji 反求諸己 (to reflect and try to find it [dao/li] in oneself). In other words, it is a process of spiritual transformation or self-transcendence to the realm of quanti dayong wu3 buming 全體大用無不明 (understanding thoroughly and clearly all the great functions wholly). To return to our original nature, it is necessary to do moral practice for removing the pollution or muddle which affects our original brightness. To use Zhu Xi’s own words, it is ming mingde 明明德 (to illustrate the illustrious virtue). According to Zhu Xi’s view, the moral practice or cultivation for the purpose of returning to our original nature includes the five steps from gewu1 to xiushen. But, behind these first-­ order gongfus, there is a second-order gongfu, namely, jing 敬 (reverence or concentration). Jing is a gongfu which penetrates weifa 未發 (the mind not yet in activated state) and yifa 已發 (the mind in active state). He thinks that we may lose the direction of returning to our original nature if we cannot focus on the way rightly with the mental state of jing. On the other hand, if we have jing, our mind would be naturally in the state of concentration on one way rightly, namely, not at a loss as to what to follow (zhuyi wu3shi 主一無適), naturally in the state of neatness and tidiness, solemnity and respectfulness (zhengqi yansu 整齊嚴肅), and naturally in the constant state of cleverness/brightness (chang xing4xing4 常惺惺), in which the mind is

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convergent without including any other things inside (Zhu 1986: 371–72).10 In other words, if our mind is able to keep in the state of concentration on oneness in terms of direction (cunyang zhuyi 存養主一) without losing or violating ren (bu wei ren 不違仁), we would have the goodness (Zhu 1986: 92). The mind in this state is a gongxin 公心 (the impartial mind), namely, a mental state in which xin and li are in unity, or the former follows the latter rigidly and naturally. If our mind is a gongxin, we are able to remove the obstacle of disclosing the brightness of our original nature. That is, the sixin 私心 (the egoistic mind) which is in the selfish or self-­ centered state would be removed. Huitong or guantong is to “see” the hidden and invisible ti penetrating all its exposed and visible yongs. So, it is a method of mental disclosing and transcending. Besides, jing or cheng 誠 (sincerity or reality), a mental state which is able to remove the selfish or self-centered state, is necessary for guantong and thus for the enlightenment of liyi fenshu. So, Zhu Xi says: If there is any selfish desire, there would have some part [of the li] that cannot be fully grasped. If there is some [lis] cannot be fully grasped, we cannot overcome the selfish desires. If we can grasp them fully and thoroughly, there would be no selfish desires left. The key point is: it must be in the final stage of zhi1zhi2. When we are in the final stage of zhi1zhi2, our intention would become sincere and our mind would be rectified in one direction. (Zhu 1986: 2740) 有一分私慾, 便是有一分見不盡。見有未盡, 便勝他私慾不過。若見得脫然透徹, 私慾自不能留。大要須是知至, 才知至, 便到意誠、心正一向去。 To try to cultivate our zhi2, the only way is to minimize our desires. If our desires are minimized, there would be no mingling of confusion and thus our zhi2 would be increasingly bright. There is no worrying about its change and our zhi2 would be more stable. (Zhu 1986: 405) 欲養其知者, 惟寡欲而已矣。欲寡, 則無紛擾之雜, 而知益明矣。無變遷之患, 而 得益固矣。

Based on the passages mentioned above, it is obvious that the zhi2 of zhi1zhi2 is not about the accumulation or generalization of knowledge in mind. Instead, the mental state of jing which can help us to grasp or to arrive the gongxin (which is united with li) and to remove the sixin (which is dominated by selfish desires) is crucial for the self-transcendence or spiritual transformation with a quantum jump or heterogeneous shift. Zhu Xi’s guantong presupposes the realization of tianli in wu1. To use Zhu Xi’s own words, guantong is a concept based on the ti–yong (substance–functions) scheme. The relation between ti and yong is similar to that of realization. In this regard, without ti, there would be no yong. In other words, the emergence of yong presupposes the existence of ti. Just like the case that: without realizee, there would be no realizer. What is all over the world is visible and below form, but there is something invisible and above form inside and nothing is without it. The above form is ti and the below form is its yong. Yong is the flowing (liuxing3 流行) of ti. They are not separated (Zhu 1986: 1532–33, 1537, 1095). So, without li as ti, there  Here, the function of jing seems like that of a virtuous person’s sensibility of “silencing” as mentioned by John McDowell. According to McDowell’s view, virtuous reasons can silence (not merely override) competing instrumental considerations or desires (McDowell 1998: 53–56). 10

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would be no yong in virtue of the flowing of qi and thus no heaven and earth, no things and events (Zhu 1986: 1). Or, simplified as “without xing1[li], there would be no wu1” (fei xing1 wu3 wu1 非性無物) (Zhu 1986: 1432). Since all the wu1 in the world is produced by the real li, there would be really no such a specific wu1 in the world if there is no such a specific li. Even though there is such a specific wu1 in terms of common sense, it can be understood as seemingly nothing (Zhu 1986: 1579). It is because, without li realized in wu1, what is left is mere qi, not really wu1. In this sense, we can follow Zhu Xi to say: “bucheng bian wu3wu1” 不誠便無物 (without sincerity, there would be no things/events) (Zhu 1986: 2463). If the final stage is not the accumulation and generalization of knowledge, and jing as a second-order gongfu is helpful for a quantum jump, it is highly possible that this kind of zhi2 is a mental state of enlightenment. Let’s see Zhu Xi’s own words about this point: Only when we are awakened would this thing [li] be here and ignited to move. Only this is the flowing of the heaven’s mandate. (Zhu 1986: 1265) 只是纔喚醒, 這物事便在這裏, 點著便動。只此便是天命流行處。 The “jue” 覺 of “the prior jue and posterior jue” is the jue in terms of self-enlightening (zhiwu2 自悟). It is similar to the goal of sudden guantong through gewu1 and zhi1zhi2 in the Great Learning. . . . In “the prior zhi2 to make the posterior zhi2 to be jue and the prior jue to make the posterior jue to be jue,” both the two tokens of the word “jue” are interpreted as wakening. This is myself to waken that [my mind]. (Zhu 1986: 1363) 「先覺後覺」之「覺」, 是自悟之覺, 似大學說格物、致知豁然貫通處。⋯⋯「先 知覺後知, 先覺覺後覺」, 中央兩箇「覺」字, 皆訓喚醒。是我喚醒他。

If my understanding of Zhu Xi’s view is right, it is impossible to treat the zhi2 of benyou zhi zhi2 and the zhi2 of zhi2zhi3 知至 (i.e., the final stage of zhi2) as an epistemic concept. Instead, I think, it should be understood as a mental state of jue. So, Zhu Xi often uses the terms like “jue” 覺, “wu2” 悟, and “xing5wu2” 醒悟 (wakening and enlightening) to describe the mental state of sudden guantong (Zhu 1986: 394). It is the mental state of “suddenly like the wakening from a sound sleep” (Zhu 1986: 714, 2528, 2776). One more evidence to support the interpretation that the zhi2 of benyou zhi zhi2 and the zhi2 of zhi2zhi3 知至 (i.e., the final stage of zhi2) should be understood as a mental state of jue is that the former is described by Zhu Xi as “jieran zhi jue” 介然之覺 (suddenly awakening), metaphorically speaking, it is the fire made from striking flint (jishi zhi huo 擊石之火); the latter is described as “dajue” 大覺 (fully awakening), it is just like the fire to set the prairie ablaze (liaoyuan 燎原) (Zhu 1986: 376). In addition to the fire metaphor, the candle metaphor is also used by Zhu Xi. He thinks that, to remove the cover of a candle, it would return to the state of original brightness to shine all around (Zhu 1986: 283). He also uses mirror to express a similar point: zhi1zhi2 致知 (extending zhi2) is benxin zhi zhi2 本心之知 (the zhi2 of the original mind). Just like a mirror, it was originally thoroughly bright, but later concealed by dust. Now, with the dust wiped off, the mirror returns to its brightness, which can be used to illuminate everything

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(Zhu 1986: 283). Moreover, this originally bright virtue is also described by Zhu Xi as the first stage of little awakening from drunkenness (shaoxing5 少醒) and the recovery to fully brightness as the final stage of fully awakening (daxing5 大醒). He calls this phenomenon as “return to its original state” (fu qi chu 復其初) (Zhu 1986: 262). In sum, I think, an epistemic interpretation cannot be used to explain the examples mentioned above. Instead, a non-epistemic interpretation is much more reasonable in explaining this kind of phenomena of mental transformation. When we both use the external gongfu of gewu1 or qiongli and the internal gongfu of zhi1zhi2 致知 and eventually arrive at the final stage of zhi1zhi2 (i.e., zhi2zhi3 知至) or guantong, our mind would return to its original state (i.e., benyou zhi zhi2 or liangzhi2). According to Zhu Xi’s view, this final stage of zhi2 can be named as “zhenzhi2” 真知 (true knowing or real understanding). Here, my question is: In what sense it is true or real? It is definitely not the kind of ordinary knowing or understanding. But, what is the salient characteristic of this kind of zhi2? This kind of zhi2 is our originally bright virtue. It is a strong mental power which is able to guarantee our actions on the right track (xunli 循理) and to silence or override other immoral reasons for action, especially those based on selfish desires, by silencing them. In this sense, there is no zhi2 which does not enable a person to xing3 行 (put into action). So, Zhu Xi says: If one does not have zhenzhi2, how can one act? If one really has zhenzhi2, it cannot stop her/ him from doing. (Zhu 1986: 2793) 不真知得, 如何踐履得!若是真知, 自住不得。 If one really and solidly has zhi2, s/he will be going to do incessantly. (Zhu 1986: 1436) 真實知得, 則滔滔行將去。 If one knows that something is not good and should not be done but still does it, it is merely because s/he is unable to have zhenzhi2 of it. (Zhu 1986: 1173) 知不善之不當為, 而猶或為之, 是特未能真知之也。 If one has zhenzhi2, it would be naturally/spontaneously for her/him to do without artificial effort. (Zhu 1986: 390) 既知則自然行得, 不待勉強。 If one arrives zhi2zhi3, then all the thing that should be done would be naturally/spontaneously done. (Zhu 1986: 601) 若知至, 則當做底事, 自然做將去。

As indicated by these examples, I think, this kind of zhi2 has a robust, consistent and integrated power which is able to activate moral actions naturally/spontaneously and to stop immoral actions without making artificial effort. That is the mind of zhong 忠 (loyalty or real) and xin 信 (sincerity or faithfulness) which can be described as “the mind of extensively and greatly impartiality and of natural response to the things to come” (Zhu 1986: 147). In other words, it is a moral faith with strong commitment (zixin deji 自信得及) (Zhu 1986: 297–98, 712–15). For Zhu Xi, it is also a mental power which is able to make zhi2 and xing3 in unity.

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8 Conclusion In this chapter, I have tried to compare two kinds of interpretations for Zhu Xi’s ideas of gewu1 and zhi1zhi2. I have provided some significant evidence from Zhu Xi’s texts to demonstrate that the epistemic interpretation, though influential, cannot be coherent with these significant data, while the non-epistemic one is more coherent and reasonable to explain the problems in the texts. I think it is clear from the texts that zhi2 used as a verb is not to express an empirical or non-empirical knowing activity and used as a noun is not to mean empirical or non-empirical knowledge. As demonstrated above, I have argued that Zhu Xi’s zhi2 is a kind of mental state of morality, zhi1zhi2 is a mental act which aims at mental transformation, and zhi2zhi3 is a final state of enlightenment or a mental state of huoran guantong or tuoran guantong. To treat gewu1 and zhi1zhi2 as two aspects of the same epistemic or cognitive activity cannot cope with the texts.

References Bickle, John. 2013. “Multiple Realizability.” Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy, first published on November 23, 1998; substantive revision on January 15, 2013. https://plato.stanford.edu/ entries/multiple-realizability/ Chen, Lai 陳來. 1990. A Study of Zhu Xi’s Philosophy 朱熹哲學研究. Taipei 臺北: Wen Jin Press 文津出版社. Fung, Yiu-ming (Feng, Yaoming) 馮耀明. 1993. “A Rational Reconstruction of Zhu Xi’s Theory of Mind and Nature 朱熹心性論的重建.” In Chung Tsai-chun 鍾彩鈞, ed., Collected Essays of the International Conference on Zhu Xi Study 國際朱子學會議論文集, 437–461. Taipei 臺 北: Institute of Chinese Literature and Philosophy, Academia Sinica 中央研究院中國文哲研 究所. Fung, Yiu-ming (Feng, Yaoming). 2006. “Davidson’s Charity in the Context of Chinese Philosophy.” In Bo Mou, ed., Davidson’s Philosophy and Chinese Philosophy: Constructive Engagement, 117–162. Leiden: Brill Academic Publishers). Jaworski, William. n.d. “Mind and Multiple Realizability.” Internet Encyclopedia of Philosophy. https://www.iep.utm.edu/mult-rea/ Kong, Yingda 孔穎達. 2001. Correct Meaning of the Book of Rites 禮記正義. Taipei: Wu4-Nan Book Inc. 五南圖書出版股份有限公司. Lau, D. C. 1967. “A Note on ke wu1 格物.” Bulletin of the School of Oriental and African Studies 30.2(June ): 353–57. Legge, James, trans. 1983. The Four Books. Taipei 臺北: Culture Book Company 文化圖書公司. Li, Caiyuan 李才遠. 1982. “Wang Fuzhi’s Criticism of Zhu Xi’s Theory of Gewu and Zhizhi 王 夫之評朱熹的格物致知說.” Journal of Southwest China Normal University 西南師範大學 學報 2: 14–19. McDowell, John. 1998. “Virtue and Reason.” In John McDowell, ed., Mind, Value, and Reality. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. (One of the important papers in virtue ethics.) Mou, Zongsan 牟宗三. 1990. The Mind as Substance and the Nature as Substance 心體與性體, vol. 3. Taipei 臺北: Zhengzhong Book Company 正中書局. (One of the classics in contemporary Neo-Confucianism on the key concepts of xin 心 [heart/mind] and xing 性 [immanent nature] in Song–Ming Confucianism.)

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Shun, Kwong-loi. 2003. “Gewu1 and Zhi1zhi2: Investigation of Things and Extension of Knowledge.” In Antonio S.  Cua, ed., Encyclopedia of Chinese Philosophy, 267–269. New  York/London: Routledge. Tang, Junyi 唐君毅. 1990. An Inquiry into the Origin of Chinese Philosophy: The Volume on the Origin of [Moral] Teaching 中國哲學原論:原教篇. Taipei 臺北: Xuesheng Book Company 學生書局. (A Far-ranging and insightful survey of Chinese philosophical thought throughout the tradition.) Wang, Yangming 王陽明. 1992. A Completed Collection of Wang Yangming 王陽明全集, 2 vols. Shanghai 上海: Shanghai Classics Publisher 上海古籍出版社. Wang, Fuzhi 王夫之. 1996. A Completed Explanation of the Four Books 讀四書大全說, in vol. 6 of The Completed Works of Chuanshan (Chuanshan Chuanshu 船山全書). Changsha 長沙: Yuelu Book Society 嶽麓書社. Yang, Rurbin 楊儒賓. 2002. “Investigation of Things and Enlightenment: Two Key Concepts of Zhu Xi’s Philosophy” 格物與豁然貫通:朱子〈格物補傳〉的詮釋問題. In Chung Tsai-chun 鍾彩鈞, ed., The Development of Zhu Xi Study: Academic Collection 朱子學的開展:學術篇, 219–246. Taipei 臺北: Center for Chinese Study 漢學中心. Yü, Ying-shih. 2016. Chinese History and Culture, 2 vol. New York: Columbia University Press. (A major work of anti-metaphysical view on Chinese philosophical thought from a perspective of intellectual history.) Zhu, Xi 朱熹. 1983a. An Annotation of the Great Learning 大學章句, in The Collected Commentaries of the Four Books 四書章句集注. Beijing 北京: Chung Hwa Book Company 中華書局. ———. 1983b. Commentary on the Analects 論語集注, in The Collected Commentaries of the Four Books 四書章句集注. Beijing 北京: Chung Hwa Book Company 中華書局. ———. 1986. Classified Conversations of Zhu Xi朱子語類. Beijing 北京: Chung Hwa Book Company 中華書局. ———. 2000. Collected Essays of Zhuzi 朱子文集. Taipei 臺北: Defu wenjiao jijinhui (Yun chen wen hua) 德富文教基金會(允晨文化). Yiu-ming Fung is an emeritus professor at the Hong Kong University of Science and Technology and currently a visiting professor at the Department of Philosophy at Tunghai University, Taiwan. He is an analytic philosopher with special interest in Chinese philosophy and comparative philosophy. Fung is the author of several books, including The Methodological Problems of Chinese Philosophy (1989), Chinese Philosophy in the Ancient Period, 4 volumes (1992), The Gongsun Longzi: A Perspective of Analytic Philosophy (1999), and The Myth of Transcendent Immanence: A Perspective of Analytic Philosophy on Contemporary Neo-­Confucianism (2003), and the editor of Dao Companion to Chinese Philosophy of Logic (forthcoming). He has also published more than 100 research papers both in Chinese and English.  

Chapter 15

Theory of Knowledge 2: “Genuine Knowledge” and the Problem of Knowledge and Action in Zhu Xi Kai-chiu Ng

1 Introduction This chapter deals with a challenge many may find for Zhu Xi’s philosophy: if moral cultivation (or self-cultivation), as Zhu Xi holds, relies much upon a “cognitive activity”1—“apprehension of the principles in things” and “probing principle” (gewu qiongli 格物窮理),2 then, given the familiar phenomenon of “weakness of will”,3 it is reasonable to suspect that Zhu Xi’s “cognitive activity” may not provide enough motivation for moral actions. In other words, gewu qiongli seems only to be able to secure moral knowledge—knowing what one should and should not do—but not moral action of doing what one should do and refusing to do what one should not do. Interestingly, Zhu Xi himself may not consider this as a challenge, because moral knowledge means the ability to motivate moral action, as long as it is “genuine,” How can one act when one does not possess genuine knowledge? One cannot help but act on genuine knowledge, in the case of possessing it. (Zhu 1994: 2793)

 I will clarify in Sect. 3 that this so-called “cognitive activity” is one of a special kind, in terms of the “object” being known - li 理 - through this activity. 2  I adopt Daniel K. Gradner’s translations of gewu and qiongli. For his detailed consideration of these translations, see Gardner (1990: 53). 3  For the detailed discussions of “weakness of will” from the perspective of Confucianism, see Nivison (1996) and Huang (2014). 1

K.-c. Ng (*) Department of Philosophy, The Chinese University of Hong Kong, Hong Kong, People’s Republic of China e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2020 K.-c. Ng, Y. Huang (eds.), Dao Companion to ZHU Xi’s Philosophy, Dao Companions to Chinese Philosophy 13, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-29175-4_15

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Here, Zhu brings up the concept of “genuine knowledge” (zhen  zhi 真知).4 This chapter offers a thorough examination of this concept and aims to look for solutions to the aforementioned issues of knowledge and action. The discussion will be divided into four main parts. The first section elaborates the problem of knowledge and action in Zhu Xi’s works alongside the detailed analysis of Mou Zongsan 牟宗三 (1909–1994). The second section attempts to clarify the notion of “genuine knowledge” in light of Huang Yong’s and Tang Junyi’s 唐君毅 (1909–1978) inspirations, which I will then characterize as certain kinds of feeling and clarify the connotation of “gewu qiongli as cognitive activity.” Thirdly, the puzzling problem of knowledge and action in Zhu Xi will be discussed with reference to David S.  Nivison’s (1923-2014)  discussion of the weakness of will. I argue that the difficulty with Zhu Xi’s theory lies in the attainment of genuine knowledge—one has to “force or exert” (mianqiang 勉強) oneself to cultivate the feeling, which raises a tough challenge to Zhu Xi: can this “forcing or exerting oneself” be finally eliminated or overcome? If not, how can we believe that we are able to attain genuine knowledge, since genuine knowledge implies a kind of “truehearted feeling” beyond “forcing or exerting oneself”? The fourth part introduces one of Zhu Xi’s possible answers to this problem alongside my criticism.5

2 The Problem of Knowledge and Action in Zhu Xi This section aims at introducing the problem of knowledge and action in Zhu Xi’s theory of moral cultivation. The primary text that best represents this problem is Zhu’s so-called “supplementary commentary” (bu zhuan 補傳) on the Confucian classic, the Great Learning (Daxue 大學). As Gardner points out, “Convinced that the original ko wu [ge wu 格物, ‘apprehension of the principles in things’] chapter of the Greater Learning had been lost, he supplies his own version, which since his time has commonly circulated as part of the Classic itself” (Gardner 1990: 117–18). The first half of this “supplementary commentary” reads: What is meant by “the extension of knowledge lies in apprehension of the principle in things” is, that if we wish to extend our knowledge to the utmost we must probe thoroughly the principle in those things that we encounter. It would seem that every man’s intellect is possessed of the capacity for knowing and that everything in the world is possessed of principle. But, to the extent that principle is not yet thoroughly probed, man’s knowledge is not yet fully realized. Hence, the first step of the instruction in greater learning is to teach  Fung Yiu-ming translates zhen zhi as “true knowing or real understanding.” See Chap. 14 of this volume. I choose to adopt Huang Yong’s translation of the term as “genuine knowledge.” See Chap. 3 of his book, Why Be Moral? Learning from the Neo-Confucian Cheng Brothers (Huang 2014). 5  In this chapter, I only introduce the simplest and most interesting answer among the four possible answers Zhu Xi may have. My recently published Chinese book, Zhu Xi’s Theory of SelfCultivation of Probing Principle (朱子的窮理工夫論), offers a more detailed account of all four answers. See Ng (2017: Ch. 3, sec. 4). 4

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the student, whenever he encounters anything at all in the world, to build upon what is already known to him of principle and to probe still further, so that he seeks to reach the limit. (Gardner 1990: 118)

“Probing principle” (qiongli 窮理), the core idea of the above citation, signifies “utilizing one’s capacity for knowing to apprehend those principles inherent in things.” As for the meaning of “principle” (li 理), Zhu Xi offers his concise definition in his Some Questions on the Great Learning (Daxue huowen 大學或問): As far as the things in the universe go, we can be certain that each has a reason why it is as it is and a rule to which it should conform. This is what is meant by principle. (Gardner 1990: 90, emphasis added)

This definition comprises the two fundamental notions of “principle”—“a reason why a thing is as it is” (suoyiran zhi gu 所以然之故) and “a rule to which a thing should conform” (suodangran zhi ze 所當然之則). This chapter mainly focuses on the second notion. Suodangran 所當然 is a normative concept. “Dangran” means “should”; when a “suo” is added in front of “dangran,” the compound word “suodangran” denotes the object that needs complying, which is the “rule” (ze 則). For example, when “the relationship between parents and children” and “doing academic research” are the “things” (wu 物),6 “loving each other” and “being academically honest” are the “rules” (ze 則) to which the two “things” should conform to respectively. In other words, drawing on the above-cited Zhu Xi’s definition of li 理, “loving each other” and “being academically honest” are the li 理 (principles) of these two “things.” In this case, apprehending the principles in things is no different from acquiring the knowledge of moral principles. Here emerges the problem of knowledge and action: in everyday life, even when one knows what one should do (or should not do), one may still not act accordingly. Simply put, moral knowledge does not guarantee moral actions. This doubt about the validity of Zhu Xi’s view on moral knowledge and moral action can be traced back to Wang Shuoren 王守仁 (1472–1529, commonly known as Wang Yangming 王陽明), whose doubt, as I have pointed out in another occasion, is not formulated in the clearest way (Ng 2017: 170–72). Nevertheless, a similar doubt to Wang’s already raised in the days of Zhu Xi (the twelfth century): Someone asks if “complete knowledge breeds sincere intentions” (zhizhi erhou yicheng 知 至而后意誠), it seems to imply that all principles in the world . . . is apprehended from the outside. . . . Again, Zhu Xi answers in a relaxed manner, “I often say that a man has two sons, one stays at home and another works abroad for family business. However, the father only recognizes the one who stays at home as his son, but not the other who works abroad!” (Zhu 1994: 303)

No matter how perplexing this conversation might seem, Zhu Xi’s standpoint clearly holds the father up as an object of ridicule for his dismissal of the son abroad. Regarding this analogy and conversation, two points call for clarification. Firstly,  Or more accurately, “affairs” (shi 事), as Zhu Xi often identifies “thing” (wu) as “affair.”

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the analogy expresses that Zhu Xi’s main idea of li (principles), which seemingly exists only outside (in this case, someone who leaves his family and works abroad), is simultaneously found inside the human mind/heart (xin 心). This idea, concisely expressed in Zhu’s famous proposition of “the mind/heart as a container of principles” (xin ju li 心具理), thus offers his discussion partner the analogy in question: The fact that a son works abroad is analogous to the idea that principles are found in external things or issues; and the fact that he remains his father’s son is analogous to the idea that these principles simultaneously lie inside the mind/heart. Secondly, Zhu Xi’s answer may appear to have missed the point as it concerns the “location” or “habitat” of principles. The very beginning of the question draws reference from the Great Learning—“complete knowledge breeds sincere intentions.” In this light, it is reasonable to believe that his question concerns less about the “location” or “habitat” of principles than about a more subtle question: why is “complete knowledge” capable of guaranteeing “sincere intentions”? According to Zhu Xi’s explanation that appears in the same chapter (juan 卷), the concept of “sincere intentions” (yi cheng 意誠) means the willingness to (qing yuan 情願 or xin gan yi keng 心甘意肯) act morally (Zhu 1994: 299, 301). Therefore, the question looks at, instead of the location of principles, the relation between moral knowledge and moral intention, particularly on why moral knowledge can give rise to moral intention. Zhu Xi seems to have missed the point here. In fact, Mou Zongsan also identifies the relation between “complete knowledge” and “sincere intentions” as the core of the question. According to Mou, the question implies that moral intention can only be originated from the mind/heart, rather than activated by the principles apprehended in external things (Mou 1969: 404). In this light, Zhu Xi’s assertion that principles are simultaneously within and external to the mind/heart seems to be still missing the point. While the principles are situated within the mind/heart, they are still “cognitive objects” “external to” (and not identical with) the mind/heart itself. (Mou adopts a rather strict view that, once principles become objects, they are “external,” regardless of their habitat.) It is dubious whether external cognitive objects can sufficiently activate the moral intention of the mind/heart (or the moral agent) and motivate moral actions. Mou further adds that “while Zhu Xi’s analogy [of the two sons] is wonderful, his theory does not address the son at home, for it has not established the source of [moral] action, the so-called ‘internal foundation [of moral practice]’” (Mou 1969: 404). Mou thus offers his famous characterization of Zhu Xi’s theory of moral cultivation as a “pan-cognitivist theory of gewu” (fanrenzhi zhuyi zhi gewulun 泛認知主義 之格物論). This idea of characterization can be articulated in three steps. Firstly, Zhu Xi’s theory of moral cultivation, like other theories of the same kind in the Confucian tradition, aims to provide some practical methods through which one can cultivate himself/herself to become a moral person. Secondly, Zhu falsely stresses gewu qiongli 格物窮理—a kind of cognitive activity—as the primary method. Thirdly, the fact that the success of moral cultivation depends mainly on moral practice identifies moral intention as the motivation of moral practice; yet gewu qiongli can only give rise to moral knowledge, and moral knowledge cannot guarantee moral intention. This discloses the crucial idea of the characterization of

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“­ pan-­cognitivism”: Zhu’s theory of moral cultivation wrongly assigns moral cognition with a task that it cannot bear—to give rise to moral action. Simply put, moral cognition transgresses its bound or, in Mou’s terminology, Zhu Xi confuses the faculty of moral action with the faculty of cognition (Mou 1969: 402).

3 Genuine Knowledge and Its “Object” In hopes of providing a valid response to Mou’s criticism, this section shifts the attention to Zhu Xi’s theory of “genuine knowledge.” Zhu Xi says, as quoted in Sect. 1, “How can one act when one does not possess genuine knowledge? One cannot help but act on genuine knowledge, in the case of possessing it.” By introducing the concept of “genuine knowledge,” Zhu can make a claim that while Mou’s worry about the incapability of moral knowledge in generating moral intention and thus moral action can be true, Mou is ignorant of different “tiers” of moral knowledge. In this light, Mou’s worry can only be directed towards the low tier moral knowledge which has nothing to do with moral intention rather than the high tier moral knowledge—genuine knowledge. For Zhu Xi, once a person acquires genuine (moral) knowledge, he/she must simultaneously and spontaneously have the intention to act morally. Yet, Mou has also responded to Zhu’s idea of “genuine knowledge” with criticism. As he writes, “In fact, in Zhu Xi’s thought system, it is clear that genuine knowledge only needs to be verified by ‘heteronomous [moral] action.’ If one can really act heteronomously, his/her moral knowledge can thus be regarded as genuine knowledge” (Mou 1969: 405). Mou’s response was clear even with jargons like “heteronomous” and “heteronomously”7: the so-called “genuine knowledge” (or “having the genuine moral knowledge”) is nothing but a synonym of “action” (or “being able to act morally”); “knowing a moral principle genuinely” says nothing more than “acting out that moral principle.” In this case, the problem of “how moral knowledge can generate moral action” has yet to be solved. Zhu Xi’s argument evades explaining the transference between knowledge and action by complicating the concept of “moral knowledge” with the division between “non-genuine knowledge” and “genuine knowledge.” After all, the capacity of genuine knowledge for causing action remains unexplained. Interestingly, Huang Yong has dealt with a similar question when he studies Cheng Yi’s 程頤 (1033–1107) concept of “genuine knowledge.”8 In the third  By bringing up “heteronomous” (talu 他律), a concept opposite to “autonomous” (zilu 自律), Mou implies that, to Zhu Xi, a moral action is guided or determined by an object external to the mind/heart, which is, the moral principle (li 理) that the mind/heart apprehends in things. 8  In fact, the concept of “genuine knowledge” was first put forward by Cheng Yi, the predecessor in the Northern Song dynasty whom Zhu Xi respected the most (for the relevant discussion, please see Chap. 8 of this volume). “Genuine knowledge” is one of the ideas Zhu has succeeded from Cheng. 7

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c­hapter of his book, Why Be Moral? Learning from the Neo-Confucian Cheng Brothers, Huang mentions that in the comments on the previous version of this chapter, two scholars “raised the issue of the possible problem of circular reasoning here: Profound and genuine knowledge of/as virtue, in contrast to superficial and common knowledge from seeing and hearing, is defined in terms of its ability to lead us to act, while proper action, in contrast to blind and forced action, is in turn defined by its being guided by profound and genuine knowledge of/as virtue” (Huang 2014: 281). While the problematique behind this comment may be slightly different from Mou’s, they both seem to express a similar expectation: we cannot be content with the mere assertion that “the possession of genuine (moral) knowledge will inevitably lead to acting morally.” The prerequisite here is the crucial element that enables genuine knowledge to have the capacity for generating moral action. Huang’s understanding and analysis of Cheng Yi’s “genuine knowledge” can shed some light on the question. He points out Cheng’s three kinds of dichotomy of knowledge: (1) “profound knowledge” (shen zhi 深知) and “shallow knowledge” (qian zhi 淺知) (Huang 2014: 112), (2) “genuine knowledge” and “ordinary knowledge” (chang zhi 常知) (Huang 2014: 112), (3) “knowledge of/as virtue” (dexing zhi zhi 德性之知) and “knowledge from hearing and seeing” (wenjian zhi zhi 聞見 之知) (Huang 2014: 113). Among these three dichotomies, the second distinction between “genuine knowledge” and “ordinary knowledge” will be discussed in this section. To illustrate “genuine knowledge,” Huang first quotes one of Cheng’s famous sayings: Genuine knowledge is different from ordinary knowledge. There was a farmer who had been hurt by tiger. When hearing that tiger was hurting people, nobody was not scared, but the farmer’s composure was different from everyone else’s. Tiger can hurt people; this is something that even children know, but they do not have genuine knowledge. Genuine knowledge is the one that the farmer has. Therefore a person who knows that something is not good and still does it does not have genuine knowledge. Had the person had genuine knowledge, he or she would have not done it. (Cheng and Cheng 2004: 188; Huang 2014: 112, emphasis added.)

The last sentence clearly shows how Zhu Xi has succeeded the idea of “genuine knowledge” from Cheng. Huang then further cites Cheng’s another relevant passage on the meaning of “genuine knowledge”: Knowledge is all different. While some is profound, some is shallow. . . . [This farmer] has genuine knowledge of tiger. The profound knowledge of a learner is similar. . . . A learner ought to seek genuine knowledge; only then can one claim to have the knowledge and act naturally. When I was twenty years old, I could interpret classics without much difference from the way I am doing today. However, what I get from classics today is very different from what I got then. (Cheng and Cheng 2004: 188; Huang 2014: 112–13, emphasis added)

While the first half of the message confirms our previous discussion, the second half (sentences underlined) contains new and significant information that is crucial to the understanding of “genuine knowledge.” Huang explains in-depth as follows: As Cheng Yi often uses this story of tiger and farmer to illustrate genuine knowledge, scholars often think that his distinction between genuine knowledge and ordinary

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k­ nowledge is one between knowledge from direct experience and that from indirect experience. However, in Cheng’s view, while genuine knowledge must be from direct experience, not all knowledge from direct experience is genuine knowledge. Genuine knowledge is one from a special kind of direct experience: the inner experience. This is clear from Cheng’s discussion above about a learner’s genuine knowledge and his own experience with the interpretation of classics. It is only in this sense of knowledge that he claims that “with genuine knowledge, no one will fail to act” (Waishu 6: 388). (Huang 2014: 113, emphasis added)

The keen observation shown in the lines quoted above discloses the subtle implication in Cheng’s testimony that what he understands from classics “today” is very different from what he got at the age of 20, despite his “direct experience” of reading and interpreting classics at that age. The point Huang makes here is that while direct experience is a necessary condition for genuine knowledge that makes the aforementioned farmer different from ordinary people, inner experience is really the necessary and sufficient condition (inner experience implies direct experience, but not vice versa) for genuine knowledge that differentiates today’s Cheng Yi from the 20-years-old Cheng Yi. Therefore, strictly speaking, what sufficiently makes the farmer different and constitutes his genuine knowledge is his inner experience (a special kind of direct experience), rather than the general kind of direct experience (the kind that Cheng Yi had had at his age of 20). Before going into the meaning of “inner experience,” Huang’s response to the problem of circular reasoning should be first examined. It can also be seen as a response to Mou’s criticism—“genuine knowledge” is nothing but a synonym of “action.” In the aforementioned Chap. 3 of his book, Huang responses, “My response is that, from an observer’s point of view, there is indeed no other way to determine whether a person’s knowledge is genuine or not than observing whether the person acts accordingly. However, the person knows clearly what type of knowledge he or she has even before his or her action (or lack thereof) according to his or her knowledge . . . .” (Huang 2014: 281). Huang confirms here that genuine knowledge is indeed defined by inner experience rather than by action. And inner experience can exist before the action is performed, although an external observer cannot see this inner experience from the outside. This response can also prove that Zhu Xi’s view that genuine knowledge guarantees action is far from a tautology of “action guarantees action,” for genuine knowledge is not synonymous with (moral) action. The clarification of inner experience is required for fully understanding this point. In a scenario where two students read a page on which a syllogism is printed— “Men are mortal. Socrates is a man. Therefore, Socrates is mortal.”—both of them know the argument and then read the sentences printed aloud (that is an action). However, one of them merely utters the words without even validating the argument, while the other reads with an internal feeling—the feeling of being convinced by the deductive argument. The evident difference in the knowledge of the same syllogism between the two students can hardly be observed from their actions of reading aloud alone, especially without taking the internal feelings in their mind/ heart into account. What differentiates non-genuine (ordinary) knowledge from genuine knowledge is feeling. Therefore, on top of Huang Yong’s characterization

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of genuine knowledge as inner experience, I further clarify such inner experience as feeling and hold that feeling as the essence of genuine knowledge. The above notion of “feeling” is inspired by Tang Junyi. He puts forward the concept of gan 感 (feeling) in his explanation for how moral knowledge in Zhu Xi’s theory can motivate moral action. As Tang writes in his article, “A Discussion on Normative Li and Ontological Li through Zhu Xi’s View of ‘Li Is Prior to Qi’ (You zhuzi zhi yan lixian qihou lun dangranzhili yu cunzaizhili 由朱子之言理先氣後論 當然之理與存在之理),” When we reflect on our experience of normative li [or moral principle], what we discover first is that the manifestation of normative li is primarily in a form of “commanding,” commanding us to act in accordance with it. In concrete terms, this li manifests itself as “a li that should be realized.” . . . Therefore, when we know a normative li, we simultaneously acquire a feeling that we are not allowed not to act in accordance with this li, and cannot help but realize it. (Tang 1974: 1425, emphasis added)

In other words, Tang establishes that knowing a moral principle is equivalent to having a feeling of being commanded; otherwise one cannot claim to have such knowledge. This echoes the above example of “knowing an argument”—knowing an argument’s validity cannot be separated from the feeling of being convinced. In this light, although Zhu Xi’s li, those principles apprehended through the “cognitive” activity of gewu qiongli (an activity that aims at acquiring moral knowledge), can be regarded as “cognitive objects,” they still belong to a special kind of objects which is different from the ordinary cognitive objects. Although both the ordinary kind of cognitive objects (such as the fact that snow is white, the Earth is a planet, and 2 is an even number), which will be called “information” hereafter, and “li”9 can be regarded as the objects of the mind/heart, there are at least two significant differences that establishes how knowing information does not equal to knowing li. The first difference is that information can be implanted but li cannot. Secondly, reciting information can be counted as knowing, but the same does not apply to li. For example, “the letter after L is M” is a piece of information that can be introduced to a child who starts to learn about the alphabetical order, and the child can be considered knowing this order when he/she can recite successfully. On the contrary, li is neither implantable (or cannot be known through others’ report) nor recitable (or its being known cannot be shown through recitation). For example, the knowledge that smoking is unhealthy is different from knowing the normativity of quitting smoking, as the former is more of a bare fact than a command and the normativity of quitting smoking is not an implantable or recitable fact, unlike the alphabetical order. At first glance, both propositions are expressed under the subject–object structure of knowing, but knowing the normativity of quitting smoking represents a special “object”—it is a command, also a moral principle. “I” know a moral principle if and only if, as Tang Junyi points out, “I” have the feeling that “I” am commanded by it (Tang 1974: 1432). Huang Yong also, “Sages can of  For the convenience of discussion, I  maintain the appellation of the special kind of cognitive objects as “li” (for instance, “I should quit smoking” and “parents should love their kids”). 9

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course teach us about moral principles, but unless we really grasp it from our own heart/mind, it is for us (although not for sages) merely knowledge of hearing and seeing, which will not be able to motivate us to act according to such moral principles” (Huang 2014: 114). The above discussion offers a sound response to Mou Zongsan’s criticism of Zhu Xi’s theory of genuine knowledge. In addition to proving that “genuine knowledge” is an independent thing that should not be reduced to “action,” I also argue that, with the help of Huang Yong and Tang Junyi, the so-called “object” of genuine (moral) knowledge—li (moral principle)—is a special one that cannot be known without the feeling of being commanded. Furthermore, as the feeling of being commanded (by a moral principle) can give rise to an intention of acting out that moral principle—or that feeling and intention is coincided, genuine knowledge is sufficient for motivating moral actions. In other words, Mou is right only in the sense that the ordinary kind of cognitive objects—information—is not capable of motivating an action, just as the fact that smoking is unhealthy cannot guarantee the action of quitting smoking, unless the smoker has the intention to take care of his/her own health. But to Zhu Xi’s theory of genuine knowledge and his methodology of moral cultivation (the theory of gewu qiongli), Mou’s criticism of “pan-cognitivism” is invalid.

4 The Genuine Challenge However, Mou Zongsan’s failure does not entail that Zhu Xi’s theory is totally unquestionable. This section endeavors to disclose the deep puzzle of Zhu’s theory of gewu qiongli in light of his conception of genuine knowledge. The previous section establishes genuine knowledge as the feeling of being commanded by moral principles, but it should be noted that this feeling may have nothing to do with joy—the joy of acting in accordance with moral principles, or that being commanded can be opposite to being joyful. However, Zhu Xi is in fact more ambitious in the sense that he defines “knowing moral principles genuinely” not only as “feeling the commandment of moral principles,” but also as “feeling the joy of moral practice” or “enjoying morality.” In short, he regarded genuine knowledge as a moral interest, a long-term propensity for moral progress rather than solely the intention to perform particular moral actions. His analogy of eating and drinking is, among many of his other writings,10 exemplary of this idea: It is similar to eating fruit: eating or not does not concern you before knowing its good taste; but once you have tasted it, you cannot help but keep eating it (zi zhu bu de 自住不得). (Zhu 1994: 132)

The last phrase, “zi zhu bu de 自住不得,” also appears in the first quotation of this chapter, although it is translated into “cannot help but act” given its context. The use 10

 For the detailed textual evidences, see Ng (2017: 219–29).

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of the same phrase—zi zhu bu de—instantly invites the correlation between the two passages and infers the former’s relevance to genuine knowledge. It is worth noting that the cited passage stresses the notion of savoring. Zhu Xi often mentions “savoring” (wan wei 玩味 or zhi wei 知味) when discussing the proper way of studying canons. For example, he contends that learners have to “repeatedly savor” (wan wei fan fu 玩味反覆), “read carefully over and over” (shu du 熟讀) those canons (Zhu 1994: 191, 167). He also analogizes studying canons to eating fruit. “Similar to eating fruit, some people just take a bite without savoring. We should masticate it finely to release its real favour. It is not until then that we can finally know whether it is sweet, bitter, mellow, or spicy—this is savoring” (Zhu 1994: 167). The close relationship between the study of the canon and moral cultivation deserves closer examination. Zhu Xi asserts that “the study of the canon is one of the issues of gewu (apprehension of principles in things)” (Zhu 1994: 167), “in the way of self-cultivation, nothing is more fundamental than qiongli (probing principle). And the core of qiongli definitely lies in canon study” (Zhu 2010: 668). In this light, “savoring” is in itself a concept of moral cultivation that denotes a method of attaining genuine knowledge, which further suggests two theoretical implications. Firstly, Zhu Xi identifies “savoring” as a method to cultivate an interest of, a preference for, or a long-term propensity towards morality, moral practice, and moral progress. That said, it does not contradict the understanding of genuine knowledge established in the last section—feeling is the essence of genuine knowledge, but rather adds another dimension to such feeling. This “feeling” does not only refer to being commanded by moral principles, but also to a feeling that moral cultivation, moral progress, or morality itself is enjoyable. Secondly, as shown by Zhu Xi’s quotes on “repeatedly savoring” and “reading carefully over and over,” “savoring” involves long-term repeated practice. A process, perhaps a long and not easy one, is required for cultivating the moral interest, which brings up the genuine challenge of Zhu’s theory. Not surprisingly, the first question addresses how to cultivate the moral interest. Following the analogy of “repeatedly savoring” of food and “reading carefully over and over” when studying the canons, the attainment of moral interest requires continuous moral practice. This is the reason why Zhu Xi always stresses that, in the context of moral cultivation, knowledge and practice should complement each other. For example, Extending knowledge without exerting efforts in practice is no different from knowing nothing. (Zhu 1994: 2777) Knowledge and practice, both cultivating activities (gongfu 工夫), have to go hand in hand. The clearer the knowledge, the more consolidated the practice. The more consolidated the practice, the clearer the knowledge. Lopsided emphasis on either one should not be favored. It is similar to humans walking on two legs, which motion successively before arrival. (Zhu 1994: 281) Knowledge and practice need one another, just like the eyes cannot walk without the legs and the legs cannot see without the eyes. (Zhu 1994: 148)

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In short, practice is needed for attaining genuine knowledge. As Chen Lai points out, “According to Zhu Xi’s thought, once one arrives at the tier of genuine knowledge, his/her knowledge is able to motivate moral action, thus eliminates the problem of ‘knowing what is right but cannot act upon it.’ However, genuine knowledge cannot be attained without the assistance of practice” (Chen 2000: 324). In fact, it is theoretically significant for Zhu Xi to hold such a view when genuine knowledge is understood as a kind of sensible or emotional feeling—the interest in morality. Such feeling should be attained through practices rather than through intellectual investigation alone, just as the love for fruit can only be acquired through the actual practice of savoring. The second question is: since practice is necessary for the attainment of genuine knowledge, what are the factors that can contribute to this practice before genuine knowledge is achieved? David S. Nivison’s proposal of “the regress problem” in his discussion on Mencius’ concept can shed some light. As he writes “think” (si 思): “It’s just that I don’t think.” But why don’t I? . . . What kind of judgment or perception about myself would I have to reach to see that I ought to think? And how would I reach it, except by thinking? To say, as Mencius seems always to assume, that I am morally responsible for my moral dispositions seems to lead to a regress: if I ought to do A, then I ought to come to want to do A, and so, I ought to come to want to come to want to do A, and so on. (Nivison 1996: 114)

While Mencius’ issue may not be the exact same as Zhu Xi’s, it is quite obvious that they share a similar puzzlement. Zhu is puzzled by the idea that one is motivated to practice morality in order to attain genuine knowledge before he/she can taste the joy of morality. Nivison’s concept of “trying” is useful for answering this question: Normally such a regress would be self-terminating. When I notice that I ought to do the thing, and that I am insufficiently moved, I then have an obligation and a motive to work on myself. And this motive does not depend, for its existence, on an anterior motive to be motivated. It may, of course, be insufficient; it may be sufficiently strong to get me to try as hard as I can and I may still fail; but then, I might be adequately moved to try as hard as I can to do the thing in the first place and still fail. It is part of the concept of trying that success is problematic. (Nivison 1996: 114–15)

Nivison’s idea resonates with Zhu Xi’s writings. Instead of “trying,” Zhu Xi uses the word mianqiang 勉強, a concept that means “forcing oneself” or “exerting effort” from the Book of the Mean (Zhongyong 中庸). As he writes, If we can only practice after having known the principle, then the cultivating activities (gongfu 工夫) of [Zhongyong’s] “practicing for the benefits and practicing through great efforts” will become useless. (Zhu 1994: 159)

In other words, morality must first be practiced before savoring the joy of it. The motivation behind this practice is nothing but mianqiang—implementation with great efforts.

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In this case, the second question above can be answered, but not without giving rise to the third question, the most challenging one in my view: how can mianqiang be eliminated? Or is it possible at all? If it is impossible to eliminate mianqiang, it is not possible to attain genuine knowledge either. Needless to say, it would strike a fatal blow to Zhu Xi’s theory.

5 An Imperfect Answer Zhu Xi says, “Studying the canons is like drinking wine. Those who love drinking would keep going one glass after another. Those who don’t enjoy drinking would stop after one glass” (Zhu 1994: 174). This implies that at the very early stage of self-cultivation, one has to force oneself to practice morality in order to acquire the genuine knowledge (moral interest), just as a person who does not like drinking need to force himself/herself to drink the first glass. Yet, it precisely leads to the question of interest: why can mianqiang finally be eliminated? Why is genuine knowledge (moral interest) guaranteed in Zhu Xi’s theory? After all, one can continue forcing oneself to act morally without the interest in being moral. While my monograph has closely examined four possible answers extracted from Zhu Xi’s theory (See Ng 2017: 234–71), this chapter only focuses on the simplest but most interesting idea that qi 氣 essentially tends to operate in accordance with li 理 without mianqiang. Here we should first explain the concept of qi. In Chap. 8 of this volume, where I illustrate Zhu Xi’s “li–qi dualism” (a metaphysical–physical two-tiered ontology), li is treated as an ontological concept—the transcendental ground of the existence of all things—which is mainly interpreted with Zhu Xi’s idea of suoyiran zhi gu 所以然之故; this chapter focuses on suodangran zhi ze 所當然之則—moral principles. As for qi explained in Chap. 8, “Zhu Xi claimed that no humans, plants, and animals ‘between heaven and earth’ can be born without ‘seeds’ (zhong 種 or zhongzi 種子), which refers to qi (Zhu 1994: 3). With this analogy, it justifies the classification of qi as ‘material.’ However, Tiwald and Van Norden maintained that ‘qi is unlike matter as conceived of by classical physics in that it is self-generating and self-moving; . . . As Benjamin Schwartz noted, the closest Western equivalent is perhaps the apeiron, the “boundless,” referred to by the pre-Socratic philosopher Anaximander’ (Tiwald and Van Norden 2014: 171). Therefore, we should refrain from equating qi with matter, regardless of its similar materialistic nature to atoms, because of their different ways of forming and creating things. While atoms ‘develop and nourish things’ through ‘stacking’ and these things are called ‘accumulations,’ Zhu Xi describes that qi does so by congelation (ning jie 凝結, ning jü 凝聚, jie jü 結聚; See Zhu 1994: [1]) and the end product can be seen as ‘condensed qi.’” In short, it is qi that undertakes actual creation (material development), thus all empirical beings are compositions of qi. Qi essentially tends to operate in accordance with li (principle). Zhu Xi is asked whether “the Way of Heaven (tiandao 天道) blesses kind people and condemns the bad” is a constant principle. Zhu replies, “How is it not constant? Of course the

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principle is constant. . . . The opposite means that the constant principle is upset. . . . Just as the constant principle that winters are cold and summers are hot, the constant principle is upset if winters are hot and summers are cold” (Zhu 1994: 2030). Given that li (principle) “does not feel, reckon, or create” (Zhu 1994: 3), it suggests that the initiative totally lies in qi—it can violate li and li cannot prevent such violation. However, the presence of the constant principle in most situations in nature (such as cold winters and hot summers) gives Zhu Xi a basic confidence that qi naturally—without forcing (mianqiang)—operates in accordance with li. Apart from the law of nature, Zhu Xi often brings up the “moral performances” of animals. For instance, tigers and wolves can practice filial piety; bees and ants can practice loyalty (Zhu 1994: 57, 75). More importantly, such moral practices happen naturally without moral learning, moral cultivation, or moral struggle. In other words, animals never or have the need to force themselves to be “moral.” For Zhu Xi, their only difference from human beings is that their qi-endowment (qi pin 氣稟) is worse than the latter. The moral performances of animals are limited by their particular qi-endowment (qipin suoqu 氣稟所拘) and thus can only perform a few virtues. “For example, tigers and leopards only know their father and son, bees and ants only know their king and minister” (Zhu 1994: 75). As opposed to the idea that general beings (including animals) are “limited by bodily qi’s (xingqi 形氣) bias and obstruction,” “human beings’ existence is endowed with balanced and free-flowing qi” (Zhu 2001: 3). Therefore, humans should be more capable of following the moral principles comprehensively and easily. Given the natural law of cold winters and hot summers without mianqiang, and of the practice of filial piety and loyalty of certain species without mianqiang, human beings, whose qi-endowment is superior to that of other natural beings, should be trusted with the ability to overcome mianqiang, despite its presence in the process of moral cultivation. However, Zhu Xi may not provide a perfect answer to the question of “eliminating mianqiang,” as such answer only proves that moral practice is natural, but not enjoyable or agreeable. Considering the feeling of liking or having interest in practicing morality is the soul of genuine knowledge, the analogies of seasons and animals are unfortunately weak. The assumption that nature likes or enjoys following the principle of cold winters and hot summers, or that certain species are interested in practicing filial piety and loyalty is unnecessary when already in practice; however, it is far from satisfactory to merely infer that human beings, as the superior qi-compositions, are more capable of practicing morality “naturally” without indicating where the feeling of moral enjoyment comes from. In short, mianqiang (being forced) is expected to be overcome by the feeling of joy rather than by natural tendency. The cause for this theoretical imperfection pertains to Zhu Xi’s understanding of the human mind/heart as innately morally neutral—neither good nor evil. As he says, “The mind/heart is an agent that can naturally act good or evil. For example, compassion is good; witnessing a child falling into a well without compassion is evil. Distancing from goodness is [to act] evil. While the initial state of the mind/ heart is not yet not good, it is not entirely free of evil. What else is accountable for

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evil if not the mind/heart?” (Zhu 1994: 86). Zhu therefore may find it difficult to share Mencius’ view that “the principles of our nature and the determinations of righteousness are agreeable to my mind, just as the flesh of grass and grain-fed animals is agreeable to my mouth” (Mencius 6A.7, translated by “Chinese Text Project”: https://ctext.org/mengzi/gaozi-i). Following Zhu Xi’s metaphor of drinking wine, it is worth asking how someone who dislikes drinking can finally love it through continuously forcing himself/herself to drink. While Zhu Xi is optimistic about human beings for their superior qi-endowment, the successful attainment of genuine knowledge—the feeling of liking or being interested in practicing morality—is problematic after all.

6 Conclusion This chapter first defends Zhu Xi’s theory of self-cultivation of gewu qiongli against Mou Zongsan’s criticisms of pan-cognitivism and that genuine knowledge is synonymous with action. On the one hand, li (moral principle) is a special kind of cognitive object; on the other, genuine knowledge is essentially a kind of feeling that coincides with the moral intention with which moral action is motivated. However, the real challenge lies in Zhu Xi’s idea of genuine knowledge as a feeling of enjoying moral practice. The successful attainment of this feeling (or the moral interest) is problematic because of his assertion that the human mind/heart is innately morally neutral. How can humans be understood: originally moral, evil, or neutral? To such a huge question, Zhu Xi’s view of human beings that our mind/heart are innately morally neutral may offer a realistic way out where, perhaps, the failure of eliminating mianqiang (being forced to act morally) or the attainment of genuine knowledge (moral interest) need not to be counted as a serious flaw in Zhu Xi’s philosophy.

References Chen, Lai 陳來. 2000. Research on Zhu Xi’s Philosophy 朱子哲學研究. Shanghai 上海: East China Normal University Press 華東師範大學出版社. Cheng, Hao 程顥, and Cheng Yi 程頤. 2004. Collection of the Two Chengs 二程集. Beijing 北 京: Zhonghua shuju 中華書局. Gardner, Daniel K., trans. 1990. Learning to Be a Sage: Selection from the Conversations of Master Chu, Arranged Topically. Berkeley: University of California Press. (The largest-scale translation of Zhu Xi’s Classified Sayings [Zhuzi yulei 朱子語類] to date.) Huang, Yong. 2014. Why Be Moral? Learning from the Neo-Confucian Cheng Brothers, Albany: State University of New York Press. Mou, Zongsan 牟宗三. 1969. Mind-Substance and Nature-Substance 心體與性體, vol. 3. Taipei 臺北: Zhengzhong shuju 正中書局. (The third volume of the three-volume magnum opus with very deep philosophical discussions of Song–Ming Neo-Confucianism signaling the breakthrough of the field.)

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Nivison, David S. 1996. The Ways of Confucianism: Investigations in Chinese Philosophy. Chicago: Open Court. Ng, Kai-chiu 吳啟超. 2017. Zhu Xi’s Theory of Self-Cultivation of Probing Principle 朱子的窮理 工夫論. Taipei 臺北: National Taiwan University Press 國立臺灣大學出版中心. Tang, Junyi 唐君毅. 1974. The Foundations of Chinese Philosophy: Inquiry into Human Nature 中國哲學原論:原性篇, vol. 3. Hong Kong 香港: New Asia Institute of Advanced Chinese Studies 新亞研究所. Tiwald, Justin, and Bryan W. Van Norden, eds. 2014. Readings in Later Chinese Philosophy: Han Dynasty to the 20th Century. Cambridge, MA: Hackett Publishing Company. Zhu, Xi 朱熹. 1994. Zhu Xi’s Classified Sayings 朱子語類. Beijing 北京: Zhonghua Book Company 中華書局. ———. 2001. Some Questions on the Four Books 四書或問. Shanghai 上海: Shanghai guji chubanshe 上海古籍出版社; Anhui jiaoyu chubanshe 安徽教育出版社. ———. 2010. Zhu Xi’s Collected Papers 晦庵先生朱文公文集. In Zhu Jieren 朱傑人, Yan Zuozhi 嚴佐之, and Liu Yongxiang 劉永翔, eds., Zhu Xi’s Complete Works 朱子全書, revised ed., vols. 20–25. Shanghai 上海: Shanghai guji chubanshe 上海古籍出版社; Anhui jiaoyu chubanshe 安徽教育出版社. Kai-chiu Ng is a senior lecturer at the Department of Philosophy, The Chinese University of Hong Kong. His main research interest lies in Confucianism, especially Zhu Xi’s philosophy. He is the author of Zhu Xi’s Theory of Self-Cultivation of Probing Principle (in Chinese, National Taiwan University Press, 2017).  

Chapter 16

Zhu Xi’s Cosmological and Metaphysical Interpretations of the Confucian Cardinal Virtues Shuhong Zheng

1 Introduction Like most intellectual figures in Confucianism, Zhu Xi’s 朱熹 (1130–1200) philosophical thinking is by and large ethically oriented, and the core of his ethical scheme consists in his ingenious reinterpretation of the four cardinal virtues (si de 四德), namely humaneness (ren 仁), righteousness (yi 義), propriety (li 禮), and wisdom (zhi 智). Two lines persist throughout Zhu Xi’s exposition of the Confucian cardinal virtues: one is the cosmological interpretation which offers a vivid account of Confucian moral-cultivation in practical terms, in that sense ren, yi, li, and zhi form a dynamic all-embracing unity which mirrors the cycle of life in the natural order; the other is the metaphysical interpretation in which Zhu’s theory of substance and function (or manifestation) is thoroughly applied to the explanation of the four cardinal virtues, as a result ren, yi, li, and zhi are established as unchangeable moral principles in theoretical terms. And the two lines are often intertwined in Zhu Xi’s philosophical and literary compositions. Given the complexity and richness of his works on this topic, ranging from the formal writings (scriptural commentaries, philosophical treatises and discursive letters) to the colloquial talks and conversations transcribed by his pupils, any attempt to summarize his thought runs the risk of oversimplification. With that difficulty in mind, this chapter is intended to grasp the depth and subtlety of master Zhu’s philo-

S. Zheng (*) Department of Philosophy, Sun Yat-sen University, Guangzhou, Guangdong Province, People’s Republic of China e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2020 K.-c. Ng, Y. Huang (eds.), Dao Companion to ZHU Xi’s Philosophy, Dao Companions to Chinese Philosophy 13, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-29175-4_16

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sophical speculations on the four virtues ren, yi, li, and zhi, and to contextualize and structure his thought in a concise and appropriate manner.1 In the context of Neo-Confucianism, de 德 (virtue) on the one hand refers to the innate goodness in human nature, while on the other hand it is conceived as equivalent to de 得 (obtaining). In Zhu Xi’s own words, “de zhe de ye 德者得也 (virtue means obtaining),” (Zhu 2012: 94) or “de zhe ji zhi suo du de 德者己之所獨得 (what is meant by virtue refers to what is realized by oneself)” (Zhu 2010, vol. 14: 238, under Yulei 6). Similar expressions can be found in Sishu Zhangju Jizhu 四書章 句集注 (Commentaries on the Four Books) and Zhuzi Yulei 朱子語類 (Conversations of Master Zhu Typically Organized), which makes it clear that Zhu Xi deliberately uses a verb (de 得) to define a noun (de 德).2 In that sense de 德 not only speaks of one’s inner moral quality, but more importantly, it refers to one’s endeavors in moral cultivation (xiu de 修德), the culmination of which consists in the accomplishment of moral perfection (cheng de 成德). Should de 德 be translated simply as “virtue” without further explanation, Zhu Xi’s point will be overlooked. For Zhu de 德 is not merely the inwardness and innateness of virtue as in classical Confucianism, but also points to the methodology for self-cultivation (gongfu lun 工夫論) that makes it possible and meaningful for one to pursue one’s own virtue in real life. It is this concrete procedure of moral cultivation that allows one’s innate virtue to be fully realized; hence the method or procedure of pursuing virtue ought to be prioritized. In relation to the Neo-Confucian trend of understanding virtue in terms of obtaining virtue, Zhu Xi takes ren, yi, li, and zhi as the counterpart of yuan 元 (origination), heng 亨 (flourish), li 利 (advantage) and zhen 貞 (firmness), so that the four virtues of our mind correspond neatly to those of the mind of Heaven and Earth (Zhu 2010, vol. 23: 3279, under Wenji 67). Seen in light of the proceedings of yuan, heng, li, and zhen as performed in the natural world, the four virtues of human mind ren, yi, li, and zhi thus acquire universal value, and are no longer to be regarded as four separate moral properties. It follows that the role of ren in the moral order, like that of yuan in the natural order, holds the inexhaustible generative power to initiate one’s moral life and to sustain it. Undoubtedly this dynamic model of taking ren, yi, li, and zhi in cosmological terms cannot do without the type of cosmology of qi 氣 (material force) developed in Neo-Confucianism. Another theme running through Zhu’s theory of ren, yi, li, and zhi is the application of metaphysical concepts such as li 理 (Principle) and ti 體 (substance) and yong 用 (function or manifestation) to the interpretation of the four virtues. This line of thought exemplifies the continuity in philosophical speculation between Cheng Yi 程頤 and Zhu Xi. It is by modifying Cheng Yi’s thought and rectifying that of Cheng’s disciples that Zhu Xi accomplished the mission of reconstructing in metaphysical terms a system of Confucian ethics whose core lies in the moral values embodied by ren, yi, li, and zhi .

 Despite the employment of the term “virtue” here, it is still open to dispute whether or not Zhu Xi’s concept of ren, yi, li, and zhi falls into the category of “virtue ethics” in the modern sense. 2  This interpretation is also found throughout the works of the two Chengs, see Cheng and Cheng 1981: 206, under Yishu 18. 1

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Thanks to the cosmological and metaphysical interpretations rendered by the Song Confucian masters from Zhou Dunyi 周敦頤 through Zhang Zai 張載 and the Cheng brothers to Zhu Xi, the meaning of ren, yi, li, and zhi is substantially deepened and broadened. Despite the fact that the moral values expressed by ren, yi, li, and zhi may be found in Buddhism or Daoism, it is only in Confucianism that the four cardinal virtues form an organic unity, and as a set of self-evident values are elevated to the status of the moral principles. Zhu Xi himself takes ren, yi, li, and zhi as the very benchmark to evaluate the doctrines of other schools of thought. Compared with his predecessors, Zhu Xi makes it an even more urgent task to clarify theoretically the border line that substantially distinguishes the orthodox Confucian learning from various kinds of heretical learning as seen in Buddhism (Chan Buddhism in particular) and Daoism. In philosophical terms, the whole project of Neo-Confucianism cannot do without the tension and the contrast between the “orthodox” Confucianism and what was seen as the “heretical” Buddhism and Daoism. It is by refuting the empty learning of Buddhism that the solid learning of Confucianism is to be established, while the negation of Buddhist metaphysical assumptions goes hand in hand with the affirmation of Confucian moral values. The kind of otherworldliness promoted by Buddhism must be radically rejected, and replaced by the Confucian conviction in the four cardinal virtues rooted in human nature, as so stated in the sacred texts by the ancient sages. Hence attention should be paid to the apologetic role that Zhu Xi has conscientiously reserved for ren, yi, li, and zhi in his commentary writings. In sum, Zhu Xi’s exposition of ren, yi, li, and zhi holds the key to radicalizing and systematizing Confucian values in the sense that, as shown in his Commentaries on the Four Books and other literary compositions, he is no longer content with seeking an ontological or cosmological ground for ren, yi, li, and zhi; instead he takes the four cardinal virtues as fundamental principles and uses this newly formulated theoretical instrument to moralize the whole universe. It is firmly believed that Heaven, Earth, humanity and myriad things share one Principle, which gains perfect manifestation in the Confucian orthodox teaching characterized by ren, yi, li, and zhi. Not only is the traditional notion of tian ming 天命 (mandate of Heaven or heavenly mandate) substantiated by moral principles, but probably for the first time, the goodness (shan 善) allotted to human nature is settled definitively and forever. For the sake of clarity in expression, we shall start with the line of cosmological exposition of the four virtues, and then move on to the metaphysical speculations in this regard. Having explained the two different lines of thought, we will reach the final part of this chapter, in which a further appraisal and analysis of Zhu Xi’s narratives on this topic will be provided.

2 The Cosmological View of the Four Cardinal Virtues Elements of Zhu Xi’s interpretation of the four cardinal virtues are scattered through a number of texts from his long (over forty years) academic career. Chen Lai 陳來 provides us with a detailed examination of these primary sources. In two weighty articles Chen Lai delineates a complex process attesting the developments of Zhu

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Xi’s thought as presented in his earlier and later works (Chen L. 2011: 26–44; 2012: 8–27). He concludes that in his late years Zhu Xi was more inclined to adopt the model of liuxing 流行 (cosmic movement) rather than that of tiyong 體用 (substance and function or manifestation), hence the change from a relatively more static model to a dynamic perspective that is tied up with the idea of qi 氣 (Chen L. 2012: 9). Although Mou Zongsan’s name is not even mentioned here, I assume Chen Lai is rendering a nuanced response to Mou’s criticism of Zhu Xi in his three-volume monograph Xinting yu Xingting 心體與性體 (Substance of Mind and Substance of Human Nature) (Mou 2003, vol. 3: 29). Undeniably, the way in which Chen Lai renders his textual analysis drives home how complex this topic can be if we take on board Zhu Xi’s life-long pondering upon the four cardinal virtues. As a result, the authority of Mou Zongsan’s view is significantly challenged, if not undermined. According to Chen Lai’s observation, Zhu Xi in his later works developed a different model of explanation on top of his li 理 (principle) qi 氣 (material force) theory, which is to view the four cardinal virtues from the perspective of “liuxing zhi tongti 流行之統體 (a dynamic all-embracing unity)” (Chen L. 2012: 27). This is indeed an insightful analysis, because it sums up very well Zhu Xi’s cosmological interpretation of the four cardinal virtues. Nonetheless it is open to question whether this dynamic model as expressed through the notion of “liuxing zhi tongti” should be confined to Zhu’s later works. This term occurs in Zhu Xi’s Commentary on the Book of Changes (Yi Zhuan 易傳) (Zhu 2010, vol. 1: 149), written in 1177 when Zhu Xi was still in his prime.3 By liuxing zhi tongti Zhu Xi means the cosmic movement of qi, which applies specifically to the two leading hexagrams qian 乾 (Heaven) and kun 坤 (Earth). Even before that Zhu Xi had already started to expound the notion of “dynamic substance of the mind (xinti liuxing 心體流行)” in his Treatise on the States of Mind before and after the Emotions Aroused (Yifa weifa shuo 已發未發說), written in 1169. Obviously Zhu Xi regards the substance or being of the mind as dynamic unity, in which both yifa (after the motions are aroused) and weifa (before the motions are aroused) are included. Suffice it to say that the model of depicting the mind with recourse to the dynamic being of qi is fully demonstrated in Zhu Xi’s early works; hence it does little justice to the development of Zhu’s thought to attribute it only to his later period. The year 1169 saw the turning point in Zhu’s intellectual and spiritual life, when the true meaning of zhong he 中和 (equilibrium and harmony) suddenly dawned on him, triggering a breakthrough in his long-term confusion regarding yifa and weifa. This sudden enlightenment resulted in a number of important works, including the aforementioned Treatise on Yifa and Weifa (Zhu 2010, vol. 23: 3266–69, under Wenji 67), and his First Letter to the Gentlemen of Hunan on Equilibrium and  Shu Jingnan 束景南 points out that Zhu Xi’s Yi Zhuan (Commentary of the Book of Changes) is different from his Zhouyi Benyi 周易本義 (The Literal Meaning of the Book of Changes). Previous studies mistake one for the other and for that reason the dating is incorrect. In fact the former is based on Wang Bi’s 王弼 edition and was completed in 1177, whereas the latter is based on Lü Zuqian’s 呂祖謙 edition, hence the completion of Zhouyi Benyi cannot be earlier than the date of Lü’s work, 1181. For details, see Shu 2014: 594–96. 3

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Harmony (Yu Hunan Zhugong Lun Zhonghe Diyishu 與湖南諸公論中和第一書) (Zhu 2010, vol. 23: 3130–31, under Wenji 64), which is only a shorter version of this essay. The message Zhu Xi intends to get across to his Hunan fellows is an urgent one. Zhu makes it clear that Cheng Yi’s usage of the term yifa in his well-known saying “whenever the mind is mentioned, it refers to yifa” contradicts the way yifa is used in Zhongyong 中庸 (Doctrine of the Mean). Put simply, what master Cheng means by yifa refers to the dynamic substance of the mind, whereas in the text of Zhongyong it refers to the state of the mind after the emotions are aroused.4 This discovery was no trivial issue for Zhu Xi, because Zhu’s final resolution of the ambiguity of yifa makes it necessary to formulate a more comprehensive methodology for Confucian moral cultivation, which is to combine Li Tong’s 李侗 approach (nourishing one’s sacred nature, allotted by Heaven, in the state of inactivity) with that of the Hunan school (observing the state after the emotions are aroused). In other words, it calls for a true synthesis of the two approaches whose focus was on weifa and yifa respectively (Adler 2014: 111). Zhu Xi’s New Theory of Equilibrium and Harmony (Zhong He Xin Shuo 中和新 說) (which is in content identical to the aforementioned Treatise on the States of Mind before and after the Emotions Aroused), together with the modified methodology for moral cultivation, marks the maturity of his thought. This is vitally important for his treatment of the four cardinal virtues in general. As early as in his New Theory of Equilibrium and Harmony Zhu Xi had already offered a nuanced exposition of the mind, in which the substance of the mind is viewed as dynamic unity pervading the states before and after the emotions are aroused. Since the substance of the mind is all-embracing and all-pervading, the praxis of moral cultivation is ceaseless and inclusive. The dynamic nature of the mind is based on the notion that it is, in its entirety, an organic system. In other words, the mind is dynamic in nature simply because it is not lifeless. Clearly underneath this dynamic structure of the mind lies the Neo-Confucian notion of sheng 生 (creation, life or generativity) or yuan qi 元氣 (the vitality of an organic life or the generative power), which refers to the fundamental driving force that sustains all things in the universe, including the human mind. This train of thought gains systematic expression in Zhu Xi’s Treatise on Humaneness (Ren Shuo 仁說) and Treatise on Origination Flourish Advantage and Firmness (Yuan Heng Li Zhen Shuo 元亨利貞說), both of which regard ren as the essential virtue of the mind, which is likened to the generative power of the universe. The mind of Heaven and Earth is to generate things. In the generation of man and things, they receive the mind of Heaven and Earth as their mind. Therefore, with reference to the essential virtue peculiar to the [human] mind,5 although it embraces and penetrates all and  Chan Wing-tsit offers an English translation of this letter, see Chan 1963: 600–602, slightly altered. 5  The original text is xin zhi de 心之德. Chan used the phrase “character of the mind” in his translation, and I alter it to “the essential virtue peculiar to the [human] mind,” which is not a literal translation, but a paraphrase based on the philosophical implication of the original text. In places where the translator’s name is not mentioned, it will be the author’s own translation. 4

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leaves nothing to be desired, one word will cover all, namely, ren (humaneness). (Zhu 2010, vol. 23: 3279, under Wenji 67. English trans., Chan 1963: 593–94, slightly altered)

The opening sentence of this treatise sets the tone of the whole discourse. Here Zhu Xi relates the power “to generate things” to “the mind of Heaven and Earth.” Nothing but generativity will suffice when a description of the mind of Heaven and Earth is wanted. That is the first layer of this passage, which is followed by the second layer that generativity as the mind of Heaven and Earth is also bestowed upon the generated, meaning humans and things, thus becomes their mind through the process of universal generation. Finally comes the third layer, which entails a core Neo-Confucian question: What is the best way to define the uniqueness of the human mind if generativity is believed to permeate Heaven, Earth, human beings and myriad things? Zhu Xi’s answer, as most Neo-Confucian masters would affirm, is one word: ren (humaneness). With regard to generativity, ren can be conceived as the manifestation of generativity in human being. Overall, these three layers of narrative are well structured, and as a whole offer a cosmological ground for the discussion of ren as unfolded in the following passage: The virtues of the mind of Heaven and Earth are four: yuan (origination), flourish, advantage, and firmness. And the principle of origination unites and controls them all. In their operation they constitute the course of the four seasons, and the vital force of spring permeates all. Therefore in the mind of man there are also four virtues, namely, ren (humaneness), righteousness, propriety, and wisdom, and ren embraces them all. In their emanation and function, they constitute the feeling of love, respect, being right, and discrimination between right and wrong. And the feeling of commiseration pervades them all. (Zhu 2010, vol. 23: 3279, under Wenji 67. English trans., Chan 1963: 594, slightly altered)

This dynamic model presumes the correspondence between Heaven and human; it is almost taken for granted that each always resonates with the other. This mode of thinking and expressing allows ren to be unfolded into four—ren, yi, li, and zhi— precisely in the way that yuan is itself manifested in “the course of the four seasons.” Just as yuan permeates all through the vital force of spring, so ren pervades all by way of the feeling of commiseration. Origination (yuan), as the dominant virtue of the mind of Heaven and Earth, exerts its effects on all by means of the vital force of spring. Likewise ren, as the dominant virtue of the human mind, exerts its influence on all through the feeling of commiseration. In most cases, ren is regarded as the dominant virtue of the mind, which encompasses within itself yi, li, and zhi as shown above. In addition to that, ren can be taken in a relative sense as one among the four. And these four cardinal virtues correspond respectively to the four sentiments—the feeling of love, of respect, of being right, and of discrimination between right and wrong. Since the four sentiments represent four different aspects of one substance, whereas the four seasons refer to four successive stages of one course of movement, the one– four relationship demonstrated by ren and ren, yi, li, and zhi becomes more complicated when the two sets are intertwined. That is particularly the case with regard to moral cultivation. The sophisticated interaction between ren, yi, li, and zhi as operated in moral life is well explained in Yushan Lecture (Yushan Jiangyi 玉山講義), delivered in 1194 and often regarded as Zhu Xi’s final say on the four cardinal virtues.

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As the principle of generation, ren permeates the four virtues and is circulating among them all. Ren of course refers to the substance of ren; yi the judgement and decision of ren; li the restraint and ornament of ren; and zhi the discernment and differentiation of ren. Therefore ren pervades the four virtues in the way that the vital force of spring (chun zhi shengqi 春 之生氣) runs through the four seasons: spring represents the birth of the vital force; summer the growth of the vital force; autumn the harvest of the vital force; and winter the preservation of the vital force. (Zhu 2010, vol. 23: 3589, under Wenji 74)

Here Zhu Xi picks the metaphor of “the vital force of spring” to explain to his fellows in what manner ren is unfolded as ren, yi, li, and zhi, and how ren, yi, li, and zhi, in turn, form one course of life that is initiated and sustained by ren. In this vivid account of ren, yi, li, and zhi, the role of ren is particularly stressed. Zhu Xi seems to believe that the generative power of ren is the source of one’s moral life, whose operation bears resemblance to the way in which the vital force of spring works in one’s natural life. All in all, the four cardinal virtues form a dynamic cycle that speaks of the growth, flourishing and culmination of an individual’s moral life. In Yushan Lecture and elsewhere Zhu Xi elucidates in detail the relationship between ren and the other three cardinal virtues. When the concept of yin yang 陰 陽 (the negative and the positive cosmic forces) is applied, the four are then divided into two pairs, and the order is altered to ren, li, yi, and zhi in accordance with the order of the four seasons. Noticeably ren and li, which correspond to spring and summer, belong to yang; while yi and zhi, corresponding to autumn and winter, belong to yin. Therefore li becomes the abundant emanation of ren in the sense that the flowing forth of summer is the flourishing of the growth of spring; ren and li thus form a pair whose relationship suggests that of inner and outer, or that between substance and function or manifestation. Similarly the relationship between yi and zhi is explained with reference to that of autumn and winter; that is, the preservation and collection of winter is the final resort of the forbidding spirit of autumn. So the four (ren, li, yi, and zhi) can be reduced to two (ren and yi) in terms of yang and yin, and the two can be further reduced to the one dominant virtue ren. The relation of ren to zhi is an intriguing one, which indicates the correlation between the beginning and the end. As mentioned above it is believed that in the very beginning (ren) consists the whole process of growing (li and yi) as well as the end (zhi). Because this sort of circular movement is endless, ren and zhi as the beginning and the end inevitably overlap, and the joint of ren and zhi gives some hint as to the secret code of Heaven and Earth.6 The importance of zhi lies in the fact that it holds the power to activate or trigger ren. At the end of Yushan Lecture Zhu Xi lays emphasis on the inter-penetration of ren, yi, li, and zhi, namely, none works on its own, and in daily affairs it is always the case that in the operation of one cardinal virtue the other three are also involved.

 This line of thought is particularly expressed in Zhu Xi’s appraisal of and commentaries on Zhou Dunyi’s works. This issue has been addressed by scholars such as Julia Ching, Ellen Neskar and Joseph A. Adler. For details, see Ching 2000; Neskar 2012: 344–66; Adler 2014. 6

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3 The Metaphysical Interpretation of the Four Cardinal Virtues In addition to a cosmological view of ren, yi, li, and zhi, the operation of ren can be explained with recourse to the Principle of Heaven. Zhu Xi stated that “the flow of the Principle of Heaven is ren” (Zhu 2010, vol. 14: 258, under Yulei 6). As Chen Chun 陳淳 summarizes, “ren refers to the state when the mind is fully occupied with the operation of the Principle of Heaven” (Chen C. 1983: 22. English trans., Chan 1986: 77, altered). A heated discussion of ren is found in both Yulei (Conversations of Master Zhu Typically Organized) and Yishu 遺書 (Posthumous Works of the Two Chengs), which makes it clear that a philosophical definition of ren had been attempted in the circle of the Cheng–Zhu school for quite a long period of time, and this issue had been continuously pondered upon by all the great thinkers in that circle, despite the fact that no final consensus was reached among the pupils of the two Chengs. To describe ren from a certain aspect is one thing, and to give an accurate and comprehensive definition of ren is another. Zhu Xi and his predecessors were fully aware of the difficulty involved in defining ren. As a matter of fact this sort of theoretical attempt had been started by Han Yu 韓愈, who in his well-known treatise Yuan Dao 原道 (On the Way) rendered ren as universal love (Han 2014: 15, under Wenji 1). Han’s view was refuted by Cheng Yi on account of the distinction between nature and sentiment; in his words, “ren refers to the nature and love to the sentiment” (Cheng and Cheng 1981: 182, under Yishu18). Probably due to Cheng Yi’s emphasis on the distinction between ren (nature) and love (sentiment), his pupils such as Xie Shangcai 謝上蔡 and Yang Shi 楊時 no longer had any interest in discussing ren in terms of love, to the extent that they almost completely forsook the link between ren and love, thus kept ren purely on a lofty level that, for Zhu Xi, is too far from daily life. Zhu Xi’s treatise On Ren (Ren Shuo 仁說) was meant to rectify such a manner of speaking. Xie was renowned for his interpreting ren entirely in terms of consciousness (Huang 1986: [24] 918). For Zhu Xi, Xie fails to see the point that consciousness is not the reason why ren is so called, although such an interpretation allows zhi to be included in ren. With regards to Yang’s interpretation, which is to see ren as the unity of all things with the self (Huang 1986: [25] 954), Zhu Xi remarks that unity is not the reality that makes ren a substance, despite the fact that to explain ren in terms of unity allows the spectrum of ren to be fully extended. At the end of On Ren Zhu Xi pinpoints the defects of the two well-received views: To talk about ren in general terms of the unity of things and the self will lead people to be vague, confused, neglectful, and make no effort to be alert. The bad effect—and there has been—may be to consider other things as oneself. To talk about ren in specific terms of consciousness will lead people to be nervous, irascible, and devoid of any quality of depth. The bad effect—and there has been—may be to consider desire as principle. In one case (the mind) forgets (its objective). In the other (there is artificial effort to) help (it grow). Both are wrong. Furthermore, the explanation in terms of consciousness does not in any way approach the manner of (a man of ren who) “delights in mountains” (while a man of wisdom delights in water) or the idea that (ren alone) “can preserve” (what knowledge has attained), as taught his pupil by Confucius. (Zhu 2010, vol. 23: 3281, under Wenji 67. English trans., Chan 1963: 596)

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For Zhu Xi the two interpretations deviated from master Cheng’s teaching and had already drifted into a sort of Buddhist mode of thinking and expressing. Noticeably Xie’s view is deemed an even more harmful deviation because it falls into the trap of identifying function with nature (zuoyong shi xing 作用是性)—a theoretical defect typically seen in Buddhist doctrines. Nonetheless it is not hard to see a continuity between Xie’s strong emphasis on consciousness and the two Chengs’, particularly Cheng Yi’s, likening ren to sensitivity from the medical point of view (Cheng and Cheng 1981: 15, under Yishu 2). Similarly, the origin of Yang’s notion of forming one body with all things can be traced back to that of Cheng Hao’s (Cheng and Cheng 1981: 15–17, under Yishu 2). Other views of the two Chengs, such as the metaphor of the seed of grain (Cheng and Cheng 1981: 184, under Yishu 18) and interpreting ren in terms of gong 公 (unselfishness or impartiality) (Cheng and Cheng 1981: 105, under Yishu 9), are inspiring one way or another, but none suffices to become the definition of ren. Zhu Xi bluntly pointed out that Cheng’s taking ren as authentic principle (zheng li 正理) (Cheng and Cheng 1981: 1136, under Jingshuo 6) is too broad an interpretation, as this term can equally be applied to the other three cardinal virtues yi, li, and zhi (Zhu 2010, vol. 14: 882, under Yulei 25). As for Cheng Yi’s saying “ren is the universal unselfishness and the foundation of goodness” (Cheng and Cheng 1981: 820, under Zhouyi Chengshi Zhuan 2), Zhu Xi’s response would be that “unselfishness is the approach to ren,” “unselfishness is prior to ren,” and “unselfishness is where ren starts to operate, without which ren cannot be put into practice” (Zhu 2010, vol. 14: 258, under Yulei 6). In short, Zhu Xi does not believe it is appropriate to define ren in terms of “authentic principle,” “unselfishness,” “consciousness” or “forming one body with all things.” While it goes without saying that the intellectual legacy of the two Chengs and of their pupils is essential to Zhu Xi’s final resolution of ren, nonetheless Zhu Xi’s thinking does entail a radical turn on this issue, which diverted the attention of Confucian thinkers from the lofty terms designed for the substance of ren to a down-to-earth observation of the function or operation of ren in daily life. Unlike the pupils of the two Chengs, Zhu Xi put emphasis on the importance of love (Chan 2007: 25–45), and in On Ren separated the definition of ren into its two aspects: “principle of love” (ai zhi li 愛之理) and “virtue of the mind” (xin zhi de 心 之德). It is only in his Commentaries on the Four Books that the two verses are put together, hence the rendering “by ren is meant the principle of love and the virtue of the mind” (ren zhe ai zhi li xin zhi de ye 仁者愛之理心之德也) (Zhu 2012: 48). Noticeably “the principle of love” is prior to “the virtue of the mind”; here “love” is in relation to the function of ren, and “the mind” to the substance of ren. The meaning of ren varies, and whether it points to the substance or the function or both, depends on the concrete circumstance in which ren is used. As Cheng Yi points out: Yuan (Origination) as the head of the four qualities of Change, is like ren (humaneness) to the five constant virtues in human nature.7 In relative sense ren can be taken as one among

 The five constant virtues here refer to humaneness (ren), righteousness (yi), propriety (li), wisdom (zhi), and faithfulness (xin 信). In Yushan Lecture Zhu Xi explains that among the five, what is meant by the last one xin is simply faithfulness or truthfulness. Because the other four are all truthful, there is no need to mention xin. See Zhu 2010, vol. 23: 3588, under Wenji 74. 7

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the four cardinal virtues, while in specific terms ren is regarded as the dominant virtue of the mind which embraces the four in itself. (Cheng and Cheng 1981: 697, under Zhouyi Chengshi Zhuan 1)

When being used “in relative sense,” ren ought to be understood in terms of its function or manifestation, hence the connection between ren and love. As the principle of love ren is differentiated from yi, li, and zhi (Chan 2007: 35; Chen C. 1983: 19; Zhu 2010, vol. 14: 260–61, under Yulei 6). With regard to its substance, ren is treated as a specific term that indicates “the complete virtue of the original mind” (ren zhe ben xin zhi quan de 仁者本心之全德); in that sense ren is to be identified with the Principle of Heaven, whose operation is nothing but the flowing forth of the Principle of Heaven (Zhu 2012: 133). Following Cheng Yi’s elucidation of Principle, Zhu Xi in his Commentaries on the Four Books takes the four concepts—principle, nature, mandate (of Heaven), and virtue (of the mind)—almost as interchangeable. In line with the Mencian theory of human nature, Zhu Xi put in his commentary on Mencius a Neo-Confucian theory regarding the relationship between mind (xin), sentiment (qing), and nature (xing): The four feelings—the feeling of commiseration, the feeling of shame and dislike, the feeling of modesty and complaisance, and the feeling of approving and disapproving—belong to the sentiments; while humaneness (ren), righteousness (yi), propriety (li), and wisdom (zhi) belong to one’s nature. And the mind is in charge of the nature and the sentiments. It is through the arousing of the sentiments that the original state of the nature becomes manifest, just like when there is something inside, its inkling will be seen from outside. (Zhu 2012: 239) Here not only is the distinction between nature and sentiment affirmed, but also the dominant role of the mind is brought to the fore in the form of commentary writing. Furthermore, the interdependence between sentiment and nature is stressed in the sense that sentiment is regarded as the emanation of nature, and nature as the substance from which sentiment is derived. A further elaboration of this view is given in Yushan Lecture, in which ren, yi, li, and zhi are treated as the principles of or reasons (daoli 道理) for the respective moral behaviors. With respect to the four terms humaneness (ren), righteousness (yi), propriety (li), and wisdom (zhi), there is distinction between one and another, which should never be left unclarified. Overall ren denotes the reason for mildness and kindness; yi the reason for judgement and decision; li the reason for courtesy and respectfulness; and zhi the reason for distinguishing right from wrong. The four as thus possessed by the mind constitute the substance of the nature. Before being aroused they are invisible and formless; while being aroused they will become manifest through different functions, hence ren is to be expressed by the feeling of commiseration; yi by the feeling of shame and dislike; li by the feeling of modesty and complaisance; and zhi by the feeling of approving and disapproving. Each will be aroused in response to the calling of the situation, and be expressed in accordance with its own intrinsic fabric, so that all will fall into place … . Therefore boundaries do exist between the four virtues ren, yi, li, and zhi in the mind, and each has its respective nature and sentiment as well as its own substance and function, whose operations will differ from each other as a result of that. (Zhu 2010, vol. 23: 3588–89, under Wenji 74)

For Zhu Xi it is essentially important to grasp the subtle differences between the four inter-related virtues with respect to their substance and function, so a vague and general understanding of their commonality must fall short when it comes to the complex and ever-changing applications of ren, yi, li, and zhi in real life.

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The concept of substance–function as a pair of metaphysical terms is widely applied to the elucidation of the four cardinal virtues in Wenji, Yulei, and Commentaries on the Four Books, which makes it clear that for Zhu Xi a metaphysical interpretation of ren, yi, li, and zhi is at least as important as an ontological exposition based on the notion of sheng (generation) or a cosmological understanding of qi (matter or material force) and yinyang (negative and positive cosmic force). The theory of substance–function culminated in the Weijin Metaphysical Schools (Weijin Xuanxue 魏晉玄學), to which the Neo-Confucian masters were deeply indebted. Nonetheless, it acquires some new significance in the context of Neo-­ Confucian discourse. Zhu Xi particularly clarifies what he means by substance and function. An elaboration on the usage and meaning of these two terms is offered in the form of question and answer: Question: You mentioned the evening before that substance and function have no fixed reference, and it depends on the concrete situations. Nonetheless should all things be treated as one unified substance and function, what would it be like? Answer: Substance and function can also be taken in fixed terms. If what is in the present is the substance, then what is generated in the future will be the function. If this body is the substance, then the movement of it will be the function. If Heaven is the substance, then the starting point of the life of the myriad things will be the function. If the Earth is the substance, then the point where the formation of the myriad things lies will be the function. Seen from the perspective of yang, what belongs to yang will be regarded as the substance and what belongs to yin as the function. Likewise seen from the perspective of yin, what belongs to yin will be regarded as the substance and what belongs to yang as the function.

And Substance refers to a principle or reason, while function refers to its application or operation. For instance, it is only natural that ears can hear and eyes can see, and that is called the principle; while to look at things with the eyes and to listen to things with the ears is called the function. (Zhu 2010, vol. 14: 239, under Yulei 6)

As shown above, what Zhu Xi means by the substance does not necessarily refer to a material object such as a table or a chair, but mostly indicates the principles or reasons whose ontological basis lies nowhere but in the mind. Hence, in Zhu Xi, the expression of substance and function (ti yong) is directly related to that of principle and material force (li qi). In most cases the former is used to describe the invisible intellectual truth, whereas the latter refers to the visible things or affairs that one is bound to deal with in daily life. Overall, this sort of discussion of the four virtues is often likened to a speculative description of the substance, hence ren, yi, li, and zhi are treated as the moral principles which, in turn, are used to define the mandate of Heaven in human nature.

4 Conclusion The two lines of thought in Zhu Xi—cosmological and metaphysical interpretations of Confucian concepts such as ren, yi, li, and zhi—inevitably bring about difficulties in understanding. There is an undeniable tension between the two modes of

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expression, which was actually noticed and pointed out by Zhu Xi’s sharp-minded pupil Cai Yuanding 蔡元定,8 who was normally addressed by his courtesy name Jitong 季通. In Yulei 6 a short conversation between Zhu Xi and Jitong drops some hint as to Zhu Xi’s two ways of expression with regard to li (principle). It reads as follows: Jitong asked: Principle can be conceived in terms of the cosmic movement (liuxing 流行) on the one hand, and be interpreted in terms of duality (duidai 對待) on the other.9 So the theory of the cosmic movement holds priority over that of duality. Zhu Xi replied: It is hard to say one is prior to the other. Jitong then took Taiji Explanations as an example to illustrate his point, and [Jitong or Zhu Xi?] maintained that both theories make sense, nonetheless insisted on his own view. (Zhu 2010, vol. 14: 238, under Yulei 6)

Clearly Zhu Xi does not give his consent to the view that the theory of cosmic movement (liuxing) should be prioritized, despite his approval of its significance. The implication of Zhu’s response is that he does take the sort of expression in terms of duality (duidai) as equally important. What he means by duidai is duality, contrast or distinction between the two spheres, namely what is above form (xingershang 形而上) and what is within form (xingerxia 形而下). Such a differentiation is of vital importance for Zhu Xi, especially when it comes to abstract terms such as taiji (the Great Ultimate), dao (the Way), de (virtue), li (the Principle), qi (the material force), ti (substance) and yong (function or manifestation). This train of thought gains nuanced expression in Zhu Xi’s Commentary on Zhou Dunyi’s Explanation of the Diagram of the Great Ultimate (Taijitushuo Jie 太極圖說解): That in the Great Ultimate there is activity and non-activity is the flowing forth of the mandate of Heaven…. The Great Ultimate refers to the mystery of the original state; while activity and non-activity are the mechanism (ji 機) by means of which the Great Ultimate itself is manifested. The Great Ultimate falls into the category of the formless Way; whereas yin and yang belong to the formed implements. (Zhu 2010, vol. 13: 72, under Taijitushuo Jie)

Again it was Cai Jitong who swiftly grasped the profound implication of his master’s commentary, and he particularly appreciated Zhu’s concise definition of “activity and non-activity” in this case, as “the mechanism (ji 機) by means of which the Great Ultimate itself is manifested.” As recorded in Yulei 5, an elaboration was offered by Jitong, who made the point that

 Shu Jingnan points out that Zhu was indebted to Cai for his enlightenment experience over the issue of yifa and weifa (Shu 2014: 407). Cai is called by his Courtesy name Jitong 季通 in Wenji and Yulei. The letters Zhu Xi wrote to him are collected in Wenji 44 (Zhu 2010, vol. 22: 1988– 2008). He is also listed among Zhu Xi’s pupils by Chan Wing-Tsit, who composed a short bibliography of Cai (Chan 2007b: 230–31). 9  Here it refers to the contrast and inter-dependence between what is above form (xingershang 形 而上) and what is within form (xingerxia 形而下), the relation between the two is often applied to ti (substance) and yong (function or manifestation). See Zhu’s Letter to Lü Bogong (Da Lü Bogong 答呂伯恭) (Zhu 2010, vol. 21: 1421, under Wenji 33). 8

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The Great Ultimate is the Principle (li) and belongs to the sphere of what is above form; while yin and yang are the material forces (qi) and belong to the sphere of what is within form. Nonetheless li is invisible whereas qi has its own traces. If activity and non-activity can be attributed to qi, how would it be possible that li—which is manifested by qi—has nothing to do with activity and non-activity? (Zhu 2010, vol. 14: 218, under Yulei 5)

Jitong’s exposition was highly regarded by Zhu Xi, because his Taijitushuo Jie was profoundly disputed by many renowned Confucian scholars of the day (Zhu 2010, vol. 13: 76–78, under Taijitushuo Jie), whereas to Zhu’s delight, his most intelligent pupil Cai Jitong understood it immediately. What was difficult for his contemporaries to understand is precisely the idea that marks Zhu Xi’s innovation. To clarify this, we need to consider Zhu Xi’s intellectual affinity with both Cheng Yi and Zhou Dunyi. In an elegant and discursive style, Zhu Xi composed two pieces of commentary on Zhou Dunyi’s philosophical treatises, in which he frequently refers back to two well-received notions of Cheng Yi. One is the oft-repeated “substance and function share one origin, and there is no such gap that separates the visible from the subtle” (tiyong yiyuan xianwei wujian 體用一源顯微無間) (Cheng and Cheng 1981: 689, under Yizhuan Xu; Zhu 2010, vol. 13: 76–78, under Taijitushuo Jie). The other is “there is no starting point between activity and non-activity, between yin and yang” (dongjing weuduan yinyang wushi 動靜無端陰陽無始) (Cheng and Cheng 1981: 1029, under Chengshi Jingshuo1; Zhu 2010, vol. 13: 73, under Taijitushuo Jie). It goes without saying that Zhu Xi is deeply indebted to both Cheng Yi and Zhou Dunyi for their speculative thinking as to the inter-dependence and inter-penetration between substance and function, activity and non-activity, the Way and the implements. Nevertheless, Zhu Xi’s overall interest lies in ethics rather than cosmology; in other words, he is more concerned with ethical issues than with cosmological thinking, despite his engagement in studying the Book of Changes as his two predecessors did. Zhu Xi’s appraisal of the thoughts of the two masters makes it plain that he is never pleased to repeat what they had already clarified: the dialectical relationship between activity and non-activity on the ground of the Changes. In the context of Neo-Confucianism, from Zhou Dunyi onwards there came into fashion dialectical speculation on the question of activity and non-activity, and cosmological thinking centered on the cosmic movement and cosmic creation/generation, according to which it is almost self-evident that a philosophically sound system of ethics or ethical thought ought to be cosmologically justified. Zhu Xi somewhat downplayed the role of the Changes and twisted the relationship between cosmological and ethical thinking. As a result the cosmological and metaphysical speculations underwent an ethical transformation at Zhu Xi’s hand; for instance, he read ethical meaning into Zhou Dunyi’s notion of non-activity (jing 靜) by relating it to a desire-free state and then interpreting it as “the return to authenticity and the reality of the nature” (cheng zhi fu er xing zhi zhen ye 誠之複 而性之貞也) (Zhu 2010, vol. 13: 75, under Taijitushuo Jie. English trans., Adler 2014: 189). With the intention to reconstruct the Confucian ethical system in mind, Zhu Xi did not hide his contempt for vague and obscure expression concerning the unity of

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substance and function or the oneness of all things as seen in Cheng Yi’s followers. On the contrary, he laid emphasis on clarity and accuracy in expression. For him it is necessary to distinguish what is above form from what is within form in metaphysical terms. On that account the distinction between substance and function, the difference between the Way and the implements, must be thoroughly expounded. In addition, Zhu Xi made the point that “the substance should be established before the function proceeds” (Zhu 2010, vol. 13: 75, under Taijitushuo Jie). As mentioned earlier, what is meant by substance refers mostly to the principles or reasons. Moral or ethical principles are meant to be “unchangeable rules” (buyi zhize 不易之則) (Dai 1982: 83), so that they can be universally applied to ever-­ changing situations. Philosophically speaking, for Zhu Xi, the non-changeability of principle cannot be established without a distinction between substance and function. Hence a metaphysical speculation on substance, the Principle, the Way, and what is above form is necessary. However Zhu Xi does not allow for a transcendent world as seen in Buddhism. For him the unchangeable principles as invisible existence must be manifested by the visible things, be it material force, implements, or rituals. That means that Zhu Xi, in his sophisticated interpretation of ren, yi, li, and zhi, must make sufficient room for the two major lines of thought—cosmological and metaphysical trends— to be integrated and differentiated. Overall ren ought to be understood as the substance that denotes the source of life as well as ethical principle, in Zhu’s own words, as the principle that holds the power to generate [things] (neng fayongdi daoli 能發用底道理) (Zhu 2010, vol. 22: 2199, under Wenji). To sum up, in Zhu Xi the unity of the four cardinal virtues ren, yi, li, and zhi not only defines the mind or hear-and-mind (xin 心) as well as the innate goodness of human nature (xing 性), but also constitutes the ontological ground for Confucian self-cultivation in private life as well as ethical and political practice in social life, hence the interdependence and interaction between the inner and the outer, between the subjective virtues and the objective ethical principles or moral norms, and between the dynamic line of cosmological interpretation and the static line of metaphysical interpretation. Precisely in the intertwining of the two lines lies the innovative element of Zhu Xi’s interpretations of the Confucian cardinal virtues, which also accounts for the complexity of Zhu’s ethical thinking as a whole. What Zhu Xi has accomplished in his theoretical reconstruction of ren, yi, li, and zhi can be summarized into two points: first, the four virtues of the mind are to be established as moral principles within a dynamic cosmological framework; and second, the established moral principles will, in turn, transform the cosmological and metaphysical ground and redefine its meaning. In short, Zhu Xi is not seeking a cosmological ground for ren, yi, li, and zhi as his predecessors normally do, but has radically transformed the meaning of Confucian ethical thinking, in the sense that he has reached the point of moralizing the whole universe and formalizing the moral, spiritual, social and political life with the benchmarks of ren, yi, li, and zhi.

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References Adler, Joseph A. 2014. Reconstructing the Confucian Dao: Zhu Xi’s Appropriation of Zhou Dunyi. Albany: State University of New York Press. (An in-depth analysis of Zhu Xi’s reception of Zhou Dunyi’ philosophical thinking.) Chan, Wing-tsit (Chen, Rongjie) 陳榮捷. 1963. A Source Book in Chinese Philosophy. Princeton & New York: Princeton University Press. ———, trans. 1986. Neo-Confucian Terms Explained: (The Pei-­his tzu-i) by Ch’en Ch’un, 1159– 1223. New York: Columbia University Press. (An accurate and elegant English translation of Chen Chun’s philosophical explosion of Neo-Confucian terms.) ———. 2007a. Essays on Zhu Xi 朱學論集. Shanghai 上海: Huadong Shifan Daxue Chubanshe 華東師範大學出版社. (A collection of scholarly articles on Zhu Xi.) ———. 2007b. Pupils of Zhu Xi 朱子門人. Shanghai 上海: Huadong Shifan Daxue Chubanshe 華 東師範大學出版社. (An extensive study of Zhu Xi’s pupils in terms of intellectual affiliation and geographical mapping.) Chen, Chun 陳淳. 1983. Neo-Confucian Terms Explained 北溪字義. Beijing 北京: Zhonghua Shuju 中華書局. (A well-structured book of Neo-Confucian terms.) Chen, Lai 陳來. 2011. “Theory of the Four Virtues in Zhu Xi’s Thought 朱子思想中的四德論.” Philosophical Studies 哲學研究 2011 (1): 26–44. ———. 2012. “Additional Discussion on Zhu Xi’s Thinking of the Four Virtues.” In Philosophy and the Time 哲學與時代, edited by Chen Lai, 8–27. Shanghai 上海: Huadong Shifan Daxue Chubanshe 華東師範大學出版社. (A collection of papers delivered at the international conference on Zhu Xi in 2011.) Cheng, Hao 程顥, and Cheng Yi 程頤. 1981. Works of the Two Chengs 二程集. Beijing 北京: Zhonghua Shuju 中華書局. Ching, Julia. 2000. Religious Thought of Chu Hsi. Oxford: Oxford University Press. (A solid study of Zhu Xi’s religious concerns and ideas with detailed textual analysis.) Dai, Zhen 戴震. 1982. On Mencius: Explorations in Words and Meaning 孟子字義疏證. Beijing 北京: Zhonghua Shuju 中華書局. Han, Yu 韓愈. 2014. Literary Works of Han Changli 韓昌黎文集校注. Shanghai 上海: Shanghai Guji Chubanshe 上海古籍出版社. Huang, Zongxi 黃宗羲. 1986. Anthology and Critical Accounts of the Neo-Confucianists of the Song and Yuan Dynasties 宋元學案. 4 vols. Beijing 北京: Zhonghua Shuju 中華書局. Mou, Zongsan 牟宗三. 2003. Substance of the Mind and Substance of the Nature 心體與性體. 3 vols. Taipei 臺北: Lianjing Chuban Gongsi 聯經出版公司. (A monumental study of Neo-­ Confucian schools, ideas and intellectual history.) Neskar, Ellen. 2012. “Zhu Xi’s Travels on Mount Lu: Visiting Zhou Dunyi’s Study Hall and Paying Reverence to the Dao-tong.” In Philosophy and the Time 哲學與時代, edited by Chen Lai, 344–366. Shanghai 上海: Huadong Shifan Daxue Chubanshe 華東師範大學出版社. Shu, Jingnan 束景南. 2014. A Chronical of Zhu Xi in Detail 朱熹年譜長編. 2 vols. Shanghai 上 海: Huadong Shifan Daxue Chubanshe 華東師範大學出版社. (A detailed exploration of Zhu Xi’s life and work in chronological order.) Zhu, Xi 朱熹. 2010. Complete Works of Master Zhu 朱子全書. Vols. 1, 14, 22, 23, 24. Shanghai 上海: Shanghai Guji Chubanshe 上海古籍出版社. ———. 2012. Commentaries on the Four Books 四書章句集注. Beijing 北京: Zhonghua Shuju 中華書局. Shuhong Zheng is an associate professor at the Department of Philosophy, Sun Yat-sen University, Guangzhou. Her research interests consist in Comparative philosophy, Neo-Confucianism, medieval theology, and translation of Neo-Confucian classical texts. She published Zhu Xi and Meister Eckhart: Two Intellectual Profiles (2016).  

Chapter 17

The Problem of Evil in Zhu Xi’s Thought Simon Man Ho Wong

1 Introduction: Physical Nature as the Root of Evil In this chapter, I would like to deal with Zhu Xi’s idea of evil in the context of discussion of the problem of contradiction between the factors of determinism and free choice in human behavior. I will bring in Immanuel Kant’s (1724–1804) discussion of the problem. I will show how Kant’s ideas inspire and lead us to the solution of the problem that can be found in Zhu Xi’s idea of physical nature (qizhi zhi xing 氣 質之性). This way of handling the topic aims to reveal the significance of Zhu’s idea of evil, or at least one of its important significances.1 Let us begin with physical nature as the root of evil. It is commonly known among scholars that according to Neo-Confucianism (or the main branch of Neo-­ Confucianism), evil comes from the physical nature of human beings. The idea of physical nature originates from the Neo-Confucian philosopher Zhang Zai 張載 (1020–1077), who classifies human nature into two kinds, namely, the nature of Heaven and Earth (tiandi zhi xing 天地之性) and the physical nature. Zhang Zai said, “Nature in human is never evil. . . . With the existence of physical form, there exists the physical nature. If one skillfully recovers the Nature of Heaven and Earth, then it will be preserved” (Zhang 2014: 15).2 Here the nature of Heaven and Earth 1  In addition to Chan Wing-tsit’s article (Chan 1957: 773–91), there are also an article and a book that are not directly related to this chapter but may be worthy of being referred to as background. They are Graham (1990: 412–35) and Perkins (2014). 2  The English translation is from Chan Wing-tsit. See Chan (1957: 780). Unless otherwise indicated, all translations from Chinese to English in this chapter are conducted by the author of this chapter.

S. M. H. Wong (*) Division of Humanities, The Hong Kong University of Science and Technology, Hong Kong, People’s Republic of China e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2020 K.-c. Ng, Y. Huang (eds.), Dao Companion to ZHU Xi’s Philosophy, Dao Companions to Chinese Philosophy 13, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-29175-4_17

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refers to the original good nature, whereas the physical nature accounts for the outcome of evil. Cheng Yi 程頤 (1033–1107) expressed this idea clearly, “Material force (qi 氣) may be good or not good, nature is always good. That a person does not know to do good is because of the darkness of material force that blocks him” (Cheng and Cheng 1982: 274). In this quotation, “nature” refers to the good “nature of Heaven and Earth,” while “material force,” which may be good or evil, is related to physical nature. It can be explained that material force makes up the physical form. With the existence of physical form, there exists the physical nature that accounts for the existence of evil. Zhu Xi had a very high appraisal of the doctrine of physical nature. He said, “The doctrine of physical nature originated with Chang [Zhang] and Ch’eng [Cheng]. It made a tremendous contribution to the Confucian School and is a great help to us students. No one before this has enunciated such a doctrine. Hence with the establishment of the doctrine of Chang and Ch’eng, the theories [of human nature] of all previous philosophers collapse” (Zhu 2002, vol. 14: 199–200; see Chan 1957: 781–82). Though not directly addressing the problem of evil, Zhu Xi confirmed that the doctrine of physical nature (as well as the differentiation between the nature of Heaven and Earth and the physical nature) had put an end to the debates of Confucian scholars on the theories of human nature. As for how material force or physical nature leads to evil (or good and evil), he said, “The Nature of Heaven and Earth is the Principle (li 理). As soon as and where yin 陰 and yang 陽 and the Five Agents [of Water, Fire, Wood, Metal and Earth] operate, there is physical nature. Herein lie the differences between intelligence and beclouding, and the heavy and the light”; and again, “The two forces [of yin and yang] sometimes mutually supplement each other and sometimes contradict each other. . . . Sometimes their operation is even and easy but sometimes unbalanced. Hence there is evil and there is good” (Chan 1957: 780–81). According to Zhu Xi and some other Neo-Confucians, the nature of Heaven and Earth is the original good nature that is the Principle. The material force of the yin and yang and the Five Agents are important elements to constitute the physical nature. The material force operates in different ways and they produce good and evil in the physical nature. When the material forces (of yin and yang and the Five Agents) mutually supplement one another and their operation is even and easy, there is good. When they contradict one another and their operation unbalanced, there is evil. Zhu Xi agrees that the doctrine allows human beings to be originally good (because of the nature of Heaven and Earth) on the one hand, and explains the origin of evil in human beings (which is the physical nature) on the other. In short, the nature of Heaven and Earth is good, whereas the physical nature can be good or evil.

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2 The Problem and the Solution Inspired by Kant Despite the fact that Zhu Xi’s explanation of the root of evil may raise some questions, we would like to focus on the one arising from the concept of physical nature as the root of evil.3 In the first place, we may say that the physical nature includes a wide range of human qualities, abilities, and personalities that can be described in terms of yin/yang, resoluteness/gentleness, purity/impurity, heaviness/lightness, and darkness/brightness etc. From the perspective of morality, the physical nature can be classified, due to different operation of material force, into four groups: that human nature is good, is evil, is good and evil, or is neither good nor evil. However, we usually think that there are good and evil elements in human nature. Even if we claim a wo/man is good or evil and that s/he has a good or evil nature, we do not suppose his or her nature is perfectly good or evil. Instead we think it is the good or evil side that plays a dominant role in his or her nature. As for the nature that is neither good nor evil, we incline to see this as the good and evil being in a potential state, without the chance of manifestation and development, thus assuming the appearance of being neutral (neither good nor evil) in terms of morality. Thus, since there are good and evil in the physical nature of human being, and it is the evil side of physical nature that is responsible for our immoral behavior, we conveniently name it as evil physical nature. With this understanding of evil physical nature, we may encounter a problem. On the one hand, we usually think that we should be responsible for our immoral or evil behavior. This presupposes that our evil behavior is committed under our free choice. If the evil behavior does not originate from our free choice, it becomes unnecessary for us to be accountable for it. This is just like a car, without a driver and deprived of its brake system, runs into a person. The car should not be held accountable for hitting the person. It is because the action of the car is mechanical and is not a result of free choice. On the other hand, if our evil behavior comes from our evil physical nature, and our physical nature is inborn and unalterable, then our evil behavior caused by our evil physical nature is not a result of our free choice.4 This implies we should not be held responsible for our evil behavior. In other words, on condition that our evil ideas and behavior originate from our evil physical nature, we should not be responsible for them. But this obviously violates our common sense about morality, since we usually think that a person should be responsible for his or her evil deeds.

 One of the questions we can think of is that if there is a confusion of natural evil and moral evil in the thought of Zhu Xi. Since this is not the major issue in this chapter, we are not going to explore this problem here. Interested readers may refer to Chan (1957) and Lee (1993). 4  It should be noted that that physical nature is inborn does not preclude the fact that sometimes physical nature can be formed from habits. And that physical nature is unalterable is a saying based on real life situations; it does not preclude the possibility of the transformation of one’s physical nature through intense moral self-cultivation. 3

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Therefore, based on the problem we just raised, we may query the Neo-Confucian claim that evil comes from evil physical nature, and say that it is incorrect. But is it really incorrect? Referring to the problem that “evil comes from evil physical nature” may lead to the claim that one should not be held responsible for one’s evil deeds, we do not see any discussion by the Neo-Confucians. It seems that they did not have a strong awareness of the possibility of the lack of the factor of free choice in the deeds determined by one’s evil physical nature.5 In the Western tradition, however, Immanuel Kant is at least one of the great philosophers who was aware of this problem and tried to give an explanation. Kant wrote about this problem in his “On the Radical Evil in Human Nature,” the first book of his Religion within the Limits of Reason Alone published in 1793. I quote his writings as follows: Lest difficulty at once be encountered in the expression nature, which, if it meant (as it usually does) the opposite of freedom as a basis of action, would flatly contradict the predicates morally good or evil, let it be noted that by “nature of man” we here intend only the subjective ground of the exercise (under objective moral laws) of man’s freedom in general; this ground—whatever is its character—is the necessary antecedent of every act apparent to the senses. But this subjective ground, again, must itself always be an expression of freedom (for otherwise the use or abuse of man’s power of choice in respect of the moral law could not be imputed to him nor could the good or bad in him be called moral). Hence the source of evil cannot lie in an object determining the will through inclination, nor yet in a natural impulse; it can lie only in a rule made by the will for the use of its freedom, that is, in a maxim. But now it must not be considered permissible to inquire into the subjective ground in man of the adoption of this maxim rather than of its opposite. If this ground itself were not ultimately a maxim, but a mere natural impulse, it would be possible to trace the use of our freedom wholly to determination by natural causes; this, however, is contradictory to the very notion of freedom. When we say, then, Man is by nature good, or, Man is by nature evil, this means only that there is in him an ultimate ground (inscrutable to us) of the adoption of good maxims or of evil maxims (i.e., those contrary to law), and this he has, being a man; and hence he thereby expresses the character of his species. (Kant 1960: 16–17)6

What Kant meant by “nature of man” here is similar, if not equivalent, to what we call physical nature in this essay. When he says man is by nature good or evil, he is referring to the good or evil physical nature of human being. He says that “by nature of man we here intend only the subjective ground of the exercise (under objective moral laws) of man’s freedom in general,” and emphasizes that “this subjective ground must itself always be an expression of freedom,” “for otherwise the use or abuse of man’s power of choice in respect of the moral law could not be imputed to him.” We can see Kant thinks that the factor of freedom exists from the very beginning in the (evil) behavior originated from (evil) physical nature. He goes further to claim that “the source of evil. . . can lie only in a rule,” and this rule is nothing but a maxim which is “made by the will for the use of its freedom.” It seems that for Kant, from the premise that a person should be responsible for his or her evil deeds, the evil deeds should be results of free choices. Even if the evil deeds come from evil physical nature, the evil  This problem has somehow come to the awareness of some scholars today. For example, Fung Yiu-ming calls it the problem of “determinism of physical nature.” Cf. Fung (2003: 258–60). 6  As the author of this chapter, I should say that I am not familiar with German. 5

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physical nature should contain the factor of freedom in it. But how can this be possible? If that the evil deeds are originated from evil physical nature bears a sense of determinism, this would be incompatible with the idea that the deeds are conducted with freedom of choice. How can we put them together and say that the deeds are originated from (evil) physical nature and at the same time come from our freedom of choice? Is it not that Kant says at the beginning of the above quotation that “nature” usually means the opposite of freedom as a basis of action? This is exactly the reason why Kant says in the latter half of the quotation that when we say man is by nature good or evil, “this means only that there is in him an ultimate ground of the adoption of good maxims or of evil maxims,” and this ultimate ground is “inscrutable to us.” Concerning the inscrutability of the ultimate ground, Kant has a note which says, That the ultimate subjective ground of the adoption of moral maxims is inscrutable is indeed already evident from this, that since this adoption is free, its ground (why, for example, I have chosen an evil and not a good maxim) must not be sought in any natural impulse, but always again in a maxim. Now since this maxim also must have its ground, and since apart from maxims no determining ground of free choice can or ought to be adduced, we are referred back endlessly in the series of subjective determining grounds, without ever being able to reach the ultimate ground. (Kant 1960: 17–18)

In other words, as the ultimate ground of good or evil deeds, the physical nature, in the last resort, is inscrutable to us. It is because when we adopt a good or evil maxim for our action, the adoption itself is a free choice. But if we ask for the reason or ground of this adoption, that is, the reason why we choose a good but not evil maxim, or vice versa, we may come to the understanding that there is a driving force behind, and that this driving force comes from our character or physical nature. However, the comprehension of physical nature cannot come to halt at merely taking it as natural impulse. Behind the natural impulse there must be a freedom of choice to form or determine this physical nature or character, for otherwise we would not be held morally accountable for our deeds on the assumption that our physical nature is nothing but natural impulse. Yet the freedom of choice determining the physical nature is again a choice of maxim. We can then continue to ask for the reason or ground of the adoption of this maxim, and come to the understanding of a driving force. And this driving force is a natural impulse that is formed with the freedom of choice. . . . This process may go on infinitely; therefore, Kant says “we are referred back endlessly in the series of subjective determining grounds, without ever being able to reach the ultimate ground.” This makes the physical nature, as the ultimate ground of the adoption of moral maxims, inscrutable to us. Kant proposes the inscrutability of the ultimate ground as an answer to the question of the incompatibility of factors of determinism and free choice embodied in the (evil) deeds originated from (evil) physical nature. To say that the ultimate ground is inscrutable shows that Kant is careful in his judgment, but this may not be an ideal answer. This is equivalent to saying that the co-existence of the factors of determinism and free choice in the (evil) deeds originated from physical nature is a mystery that cannot be comprehended. To the author, this cannot be considered as a very good answer. We can only say that the contribution of Kant to this question is that he gives a reason for the inscrutability of the ultimate ground.

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To further explore the issue, let us look at an example. A man is born with cruelty and any kind of nurture or education cannot prevent him from committing cruel behavior. Even if he is born with such a character, we still think that he should be held responsible for this cruel behavior since it is conducted under his free choice. In this case, the man is born with a cruel character that has a strong driving force in him; it is not just a neutral potential tendency. And his behavior that comes from his cruel character is at the same time his free action; it is not that only after acquirement through habits that he concretizes his nature as a kind of cruel character. This example indicates that it is possible for the co-existence of the two factors of determinism and free choice in real life. The problem is: how is the co-existence possible? How can we explain it in theory? Kant’s answer is that the endless reference between the two factors shows that human nature or physical nature as the ultimate ground is inscrutable to us. We are not satisfied with his answer. But a careful study of his answer in greater detail enables us to probe into the deeper meaning behind it. To clarify his meaning, we may need to look at his discussion of the radical evil. Kants’ idea of radical evil, or the source of evil, can be understood as what he calls “propensity to evil in human nature.” As for propensity, Kant explains it as “the subjective ground of the possibility of an inclination (habitual craving). . . .” (Kant 1960: 23). For us, this subjective ground is the physical nature as the ultimate ground; therefore the propensity to evil in human nature is actually nothing but the physical nature. In discussing the source of evil in human nature (that is, the propensity to evil in human nature), Kant said, In the search for the rational origin of evil actions, every such action must be regarded as though the individual had fallen into it directly from a state of innocence. . . . [H]e is susceptible of, and subjected to, imputability in the very moment of that action, just as much as though, endowed with a predisposition to good (which is inseparable from freedom), he had stepped out of a state of innocence into evil. Hence we cannot inquire into the temporal origin of this deed, but solely into its rational origin, if we are thereby to determine and, wherever possible, to elucidate the propensity, if it exists, i.e., the general subjective ground of the adoption of transgression into our maxim. (Kant 1960: 36)

We pay attention to the fact that Kant says we fall into evil from a state of innocence. What follows is that he thinks the origin of evil must be its rational origin but not temporal origin. He rejects the idea of the temporal origin of evil. He said, . . . Yet derivation of this sort [i.e., derivation from any preceding state] is always necessary when an evil action, as an event in the world, is referred to its natural cause. To seek the temporal origin of free acts as such (as though they were natural effects) is thus a contradiction. Hence it is also a contradiction to seek the temporal origin of man’s moral character, so far as it is considered as contingent, since this character signifies the ground of the exercise of freedom; this ground (like the determining ground of the free will generally) must be sought in purely rational representations. (Kant 1960: 35)

Kant’s attitude is clear: the source of evil in human nature cannot be sought in the series of time at the empirical level. Kant states explicitly that “it is a contradiction to seek the temporal origin of man’s moral character,” and this moral character as the ground “must be sought in purely rational representations.” He explains the rational origin as follows:

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If an effect is referred to a cause to which it is bound under the laws of freedom, as is true in the case of moral evil, then the determination of the will to the production of this effect is conceived of as bound up with its determining ground not in time but merely in rational representation; such an effect cannot be derived from any preceding state whatsoever. (Kant 1960: 35)

In other words, the rational origin should involve free choice, and free choice is the key factor of the inscrutability of the origin or source of evil. Kant said, But the rational origin of this perversion of our will whereby it makes lower incentives supreme among its maxims, that is, of the propensity to evil, remains inscrutable to us, because this propensity itself must be set down to our account and because, as a result, that ultimate ground of all maxims would in turn involve the adoption of an evil maxim [as its basis]. Evil could have sprung only from the morally-evil (not from mere limitations in our nature), and yet the original predisposition (which no other than man himself could have corrupted, if he is to be held responsible for this corruption) is a predisposition to good; there is then for us no conceivable ground from which the moral evil in us could originally have come. (Kant 1960: 38)

Human nature has its limitations, and the propensity to evil in human nature limits and drives us to conduct evil deeds. But according to Kant, our evil deeds are at the same time the results of our free choice of adoption of evil maxims. Human being should be responsible for his or her evil deeds or corruption as the results of his or her free choice. Therefore, with the co-existence of the factors of determinism and freedom, Kant proposes the inscrutability of the propensity to evil in human nature as his conclusion. From this comparatively detailed explanation we see Kant thinks that human being falls into evil from the state of innocence, and that as the origin of evil the propensity to evil in human nature (i.e., evil physical nature) should be the rational (but not temporal) origin. All these imply that evil physical nature should not be mere natural disposition that has its own limitations, otherwise as the origin of evil it will become an origin in time. They also imply that as the origin of evil the physical nature should not be confined to being situated at the empirical level; it should also be understood from the higher level of reason. With respect to this, the following words by Kant may help to clarify: In seeking, therefore, a ground of the morally-evil in man, [we find that] sensuous nature comprises too little, for when the incentives which can spring from freedom are taken away, man is reduced to a merely animal being. On the other hand, a reason exempt from the moral law, a malignant reason as it were (a thoroughly evil will), comprises too much, for thereby opposition to the law would itself be set up as an incentive (since in the absence of all incentives the will cannot be determined), and thus the subject would be made a devilish being. Neither of these designations is applicable to man. (Kant 1960: 30)

This is to say that the propensity to evil in human nature (evil physical nature) cannot be understood merely as sensuous nature that follows natural principles, otherwise in the absence of free choice, a human being will not be held accountable to his or her evil behavior. In this way, the evil behavior of a human being will make no difference from that of an animal. On the other hand, evil physical nature should not be understood by situating it at the level of reason, otherwise human being does not

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fall into evil from the state of innocence; he or she is a devilish being who comprises malignant reason from the very beginning. This, however, does not apply to the reality of being human. Kant seems to imply that evil physical nature should be comprehended at somewhere in between the levels of reason and sensuous nature. We may conveniently call this state in between as “the fall of reason.” Kant probably had never used this term,7 but this does not prevent him from having this idea. This can be seen from the fact that he considers the propensity to evil in human nature as a rational (not temporal) origin of evil. However, even though he has this idea, he seems not to have looked closely at and emphasized it; instead, considering the co-­ existence of the subjective necessity of the propensity to evil in human nature and the free choice, he advises that it is inscrutable to us. Yet we think that the idea of the “fall of reason” can provide a clue for us to find out an explanation to the co-­ existence of the two apparently incompatible factors in evil physical nature, which discloses an alternative to Kant’s conclusion of inscrutability of evil physical nature.

3 Physical Nature in Zhu Xi’s Thought The alternative we have just mentioned lies in the following fact, i.e., the claim that evil physical nature is related to the “fall of reason” can easily remind us of the physical nature as seen by the Neo-Confucians especially Zhu Xi. We have explicated that the idea of physical nature comes from Zhang Zai, who classifies human nature into two kinds, i.e., the nature of Heaven and Earth and the physical nature. Zhu Xi praised the doctrine of physical nature; however, in admitting Zhang’s differentiation between the nature of Heaven and Earth and the physical nature, he adopts a different interpretation of the two kinds of nature from that of Zhang. He thinks that actually there should only be one kind of human nature, the nature of Heaven and Earth, and that the physical nature is nothing but the nature of Heaven and Earth or the original nature conditioned by material force (qi 氣) and concrete stuff (zhi 質) of the universe.8 It is likely that Zhu Xi’s idea originates from Cheng Hao 程顥 (1032–1085). Cheng Hao said, “What is inborn is called nature.” Nature is the same as material force and material force is the same as nature. They are both inborn. According to principle, there are both good and evil in the material force with which man is endowed at birth. However, man is not born with these two opposing elements in his nature to start with. Due to the material force with which man are endowed some become good from childhood and others become evil. Man’s nature is of course good, but it cannot be said that evil is not his nature. (Cheng and Cheng 1982: 10; Chan 1969: 527–28)

Reading this paragraph alone, one may easily be misled that Cheng Hao is talking about physical nature having good and evil. However, we should pay attention to his  At least we do not find the term in Kant’s “On the Radical Evil in Human Nature.”  We can understand the concrete stuff here as the outcome of accumulation or materialization of the material force. Concrete stuff is therefore, ultimately speaking, material force. 7 8

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saying that “man is not born with these two opposing elements [i.e., good and evil] in his nature to start with.” And following the paragraph he continued, Actually, in our discussion of nature, we only talk about (the idea expressed in the Book of Changes as) “what issues from the Way is good.” This is the case when Mencius speaks of the original goodness of human nature. The fact that whatever issues from the Way is good may be compared to the fact that water always flows downward. Water as such is the same in all cases. Some water flows onward to the sea without becoming dirty. What human effort is needed here? Some flows only a short distance before growing turbid. Some travels a long distance before growing turbid. Some becomes extremely turbid, some only slightly so. Although water differs in being clean or turbid, we cannot say that the turbid water (evil) ceases to be water (nature). This being the case, man must make an increasing effort at purification. With diligent and vigorous effort, water will become clear quickly. With slow and lazy effort, water will become clear slowly. When it is clear, it is then the original water. Not that clear water has been substituted for turbid water, nor that turbid water has been taken out and left in a corner. The original goodness of human nature is like the original clearness of water. Therefore it is not true that two distinct and opposing elements of good and evil exist in human nature and that each of them issues from it. (Cheng and Cheng 1982: 10–11; Chan 1969: 528)

Here the flow of water from clear to turbid is analogical to the degeneration of human nature from good to bad or evil, and it is not that two opposing elements of good and evil exist in human nature. So Cheng Hao’s idea of human nature is actually the original nature or the nature of Heaven and Earth. Zhu Xi explains Cheng’s idea and has it expounded more explicitly: It is the principle of nature that the material force with which man is endowed necessarily has the difference of good and evil. For in the operation of material force, nature is the controlling factor. In accordance with its purity or impurity, material force is differentiated into good and evil. Therefore there are not two distinct things in nature opposing each other. Even the nature of evil material force is good, and therefore evil may not be said to be not a part of nature. The Master [i.e., Cheng Hao] further said, “Good and evil in the world are both the Principle of Nature. What is called evil is not original evil. It becomes evil only because of deviation from the mean.” For there is nothing in the world which is outside of one’s nature. All things are originally good but degenerated into evil, that is all. (Zhu 2002, vol. 23: 3275; Chan 1969: 598)

That “evil may not be said to be not a part of nature” only means that evil is based upon the original nature or the nature of Heaven and Earth to come into being, therefore Zhu Xi says all are “originally good but degenerated into evil.” The good and evil here are not two distinct and opposing elements. They are the original good which is degenerated into evil, the former being the nature of Heaven and Earth and the latter being the physical nature. Thus, with Cheng’s theory as background, the relationship between the physical nature and the nature of Heaven and Earth, which is like that of a stream and its source, develops into the idea that physical nature is nothing but the nature of Heaven and Earth conditioned by material force and concrete stuff when it comes to Zhu Xi. Zhu Xi said, The physical nature is nothing but the [original human] nature that falls into material force and concrete stuff, so it follows the material force and concrete stuff and becomes one ­specific nature, just as what Zhou Zi [i.e., Zhou Dunyi (1017–1073)] called “each with its specific nature.” If there is no original nature in the very beginning, from where does the physical nature come? (Zhu 2002, vol. 23: 2768)

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“Human is tranquil at birth” is the state before the arousal of feelings; the above refers to the state of human and things before birth, and this cannot be called nature. The moment when we call nature, it refers to the state after birth of a human being, in which the principle falls into form and material force and it is no longer the complete substance of nature. However, its substance is still not outside of it. This is to let people see that they are not mixed [to become identical]. (Zhu 2002, vol. 23: 2961)

In these two paragraphs, the first implies that the physical nature is nothing but the nature of Heaven and Earth falling into material force and concrete stuff and becoming a specific nature. That physical nature actually comes from the nature of Heaven and Earth is very clearly expressed. The second argues that even though physical nature is actually from the nature of Heaven and Earth, the latter that has fallen into material force and concrete stuff has lost its completeness or purity. In a very subtle way, the nature of Heaven and Earth is not mixed to become identical with the material force and concrete stuff, but it is at the same time not external to them. This opinion is fully compatible with Zhu Xi’s own theory of the relationship between principle (li) and material force (qi) that they are neither the same nor separate. If we apply this kind of relationship to the understanding of the nature of Heaven and Earth and physical nature, we may have the following expressions by Zhu Xi: Human nature is originally good. When it falls into material force and concrete stuff, it is polluted. Although it is polluted, the original nature is still there. It depends on efforts of scholars [to recover it]. (Zhu 2002, vol. 17: 3199) [T]herefore when we speak of nature, the nature should carry material force and concrete stuff with it; it cannot be suspended in the air. “What issues from the Way is good” originally means the achievement of the development and nourishment of Nature. Mingdao [i.e., Cheng Hao] here refers to the manifestation of human nature, like what Mencius says “as a matter of fact people should be able to do good” etc. (Zhu 2002, vol. 17: 3197)

Here the first passage indicates that principle and material force are not identical. It is because the nature of Heaven and Earth in its originality is different from its being fallen into the material force and concrete staff and being polluted. The next passage indicates principle and material force cannot be separated. It is because the nature of Heaven and Earth cannot be suspended and should always carry material force and concrete stuff with it. To say “what issues from the Way is good” means that the nature of Heaven and Earth should manifest itself through material force and concrete stuff in order to accomplish the development and nourishment of human nature. This is actually the same as the manifestation of human nature, which is like what Mencius says “as a matter of fact people should be able to do good.” (Mencius 6A:6) We can combine the meanings of the relationship between principle and material force being not mixed and not separate, and discover that Zhu Xi tries to convey to us his fundamental insight: the original nature of Heaven and Earth has to manifest itself through material force and concrete stuff and at the same time be conditioned and limited by them. We think that it is exactly this fundamental insight of Zhu Xi that can solve our problem, i.e., the problem of the incompatibility of the factors of determinism and free choice in human behavior originated from evil physical nature. According to Zhu Xi and some other Neo-Confucians, the nature of Heaven and Earth is free and unlimited (this is similar to what Kant calls the free

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will). The nature of Heaven and Earth manifests itself through material force and concrete stuff, and in its self-awareness of its manifestation, it does not lose its freedom. But when it manifests itself through material force and concrete stuff and is at the same time polluted by them, it is limited and becomes physical nature in ordinary sense, which is also the source of evil. Though being limited, the nature of heaven and Earth remains itself, but only that it is limited by material force and concrete stuff. Thus the nature of Heaven and Earth is still free, but in the state of being polluted and limited, its freedom has turned from freedom of will to freedom of choice. We can say that the freedom of free choice is the practical projection of the freedom of free will; it is the “projection under the influence of senses—projection of the practical function of the will that becomes good or bad free choice.”9 Therefore, on the one hand the physical nature has its limitation since it embodies material force and concrete stuff (the aspect of determinism); on the other hand it has freedom since it is actually the original nature (the aspect of freedom)—in spite of the fact that the freedom has turned into that of free choice due to the limitation of material force and concrete stuff. Is it not that this has solved the problem of the incompatibility of the factors of determinism and freedom that co-exist? The key point of this solution is that the nature of Heaven and Earth or the free will manifests itself through self-limitation. In its limitation it is somehow determined; in its manifestation it shows its freedom (free choice). To use the example indicated above, a man born with cruelty commits a cruel behavior. We understand that his cruel behavior comes from his cruel character, a driving force in him to do cruel thing which is actually his original nature being limited or polluted in material force and concrete stuff. But at the same time we think that this man, though affected by his character, should be morally responsible for his cruel behavior since his original nature, in its manifestation and being limited as physical nature, is the ultimate (but not direct) ground of his behavior. We have shown that the nature of Heaven and Earth falls into material force and concrete stuff and becomes physical nature which is the source of evil. This does not have any problem if physical nature refers only to evil physical nature. But we all know that physical nature also includes good physical nature. How can good physical nature be the source of evil? To answer, we say that the goodness of good physical nature is not the goodness of the original nature of Heaven and Earth. The good physical nature is like the slightly turbid water in Cheng Hao’s analogy of flowing water. Although the water (nature) is only slightly turbid, it is after all limited by material force and concrete stuff, and is no longer the original pure goodness. Thus, in a narrow sense good physical nature is good and not evil, but in the very loose sense it can be put in the category of evil broadly defined as being not the original  The differentiation between “free choice” and “free will” comes from Kant in his term as “capacity of choice” and “free will.” This is explained by Mou Zongsan in his saying that the freedom of will “is comprehended through the autonomy of the will, showing the law-giving character of the will, which means its absolute self-giving character, whereas . . . the freedom of what we call ‘free choice’ only indicates that the good or bad of human behavior or their adoption of maxims comes from their free choices, therefore human beings should be responsible for their behavior.” See Mou (1985: 67). 9

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pure goodness. This is similar to what Kant calls the original predisposition to good in human nature, which includes the predispositions to animality, humanity and personality in man. They are good, but they are not fixed and can be turned into evil. (Kant 1960: 21–27). At a lower level, physical nature even includes the natural characters that completely follow the natural laws. This is like the nature of animals and in it there is no free choice at all. This is not the subject of this essay and requires no further exposition here. In sum, we think that Zhu Xi’s concept of physical nature can explain the problem of incompatibility of the factors of determinism and freedom in human behavior originated from it. We cannot say that Kant does not have any insight in relation to the solution of the problem, since he has the idea of the “fall of reason” tacitly expressed. However, in Kant’s philosophical system, the idea of free will is a postulate, and it is probably this idea (of viewing free will as postulate) that impedes him from fully acknowledging the implication of the idea of free will, the case of which is unlike that of the Neo-Confucians who pay full attention to the concept of the nature of Heaven and Earth passed down from their tradition.10 Thus Kant’s answer to the problem only stops at the inscrutability of the propensity to evil in human nature. For this, we think Zhu Xi’s theory of physical nature can really provide a supplementary explanation to the problem. Perhaps it is because of this reason that the problem had never come to the Neo-Confucians’ awareness and appeared in their discussions. Perhaps they did not see it as a problem at all. There is also an issue that should be briefly discussed in this chapter. In “Zhu Zi on the Root of Evil,” Lee Ming-huei proposes that for Zhu Xi the physical nature and the material force and concrete stuff should be differentiated, and neither of them can be regarded as the root of evil. He explains that for Zhu Xi the physical nature is the original nature of Heaven and Earth that falls into material force and concrete stuff, and this original nature is equivalent to principle which is purely good; therefore, it cannot be the root of evil. And material force and concrete stuff are nothing but natural characteristics, which do not bear any moral implication. They can never be a subject that can be held morally accountable for his or her behavior. If evil is rooted in material force and concrete stuff, this will lead to the viewpoint of determinism or fatalism, and that moral responsibility and efforts will lose their meanings and significance. For Lee, in Zhu Xi’s system, the one that plays the role of a practical subject that is responsible for one’s good or evil behavior is not nature but the mind; however, because the mind belongs to the category of material force, not to the category of principle, its role as a real moral subject is theoretically problematic (Lee 1993: 553–80).11 Although the problem of the position of the mind in Zhu Xi’s philosophical system is not a topic of concern in this chapter, we are concerned about Lee’s opinion in his article that the root of evil cannot be the physical nature according to the thought of Zhu Xi, and Lee’s opinion is not coherent with the idea of this chapter. What we have to say in response is that if in Zhu Xi’s thought the physical nature 10 11

 Cf. Mou (1981, vol. 1: 115–89).  Lee has another related article. See Lee (1994: 117–46).

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is equivalent to the nature of Heaven and Earth, the physical nature cannot be the root of evil (since it is good). However, if the physical nature is the nature of Heaven and Earth fallen in material force and concrete stuff and is limited by them—in other words, even if it is still the nature of Heaven and Earth, it is the nature of Heaven and Earth that has been polluted and limited—it would not be a problem to claim that it is the root of evil. This is just like Kant who does not regard the propensity to evil in human nature as that belongs to reason or sensuous nature, but as something in between as the “fall of reason.” Secondly, we agree it is true that to a certain extent Zhu Xi takes the mind and not nature as the moral practical subject who is responsible for his or her good or evil behavior. But we should also be aware that in Zhu Xi’s thought, nature belongs to the category of principle whereas the mind belongs to that of material force, and principle and material force are neither mixed nor separated.12 Thus from one perspective the mind and nature are not separated; nature is always participating in the activities of the mind and is responsible for one’s good or evil behavior. Of course Lee can have his own interpretation of Zhu Xi’s concept of principle and material force being neither mixed nor separated. He thinks that the meaning of the non-separation of principle and material force “is similar to what Aristotle understands as the relation of ‘form’ and ‘matter.’ . . . All things come from the combination of ‘form’ and ‘matter,’ but the two are different precepts; their distinction cannot be ignored” (Lee 1993: 561). So according to him nature/principle and mind/material force should be strictly distinguished. But what we may ask here is this: is the relation between nature/principle and mind/material force really the relation of form and matter in the Aristotelian sense? In fact, Mou Zongsan devoted a section in his book to distinguish between the principle of formation and principle of existence, and to him Zhu Xi’s “principle” belongs to the latter whereas Aristotle’s “form” belongs to the former (Mou 1981, vol. 1: 87–100). If we follow Mou’s distinction, Lee’s classification of Zhu Xi’s “principle” as principle of formation or form in Aristotelian sense is not justified. As the principle of existence, Zhu Xi’s “principle,” though not mixed, is never really separated from material force. Nevertheless, Mou agrees that Zhu Xi’s “principle” and “material force” are neither mixed nor separated, but maintains that the clear distinction between Zhu’s “mind” and “nature” should be acknowledged.13 Unlike Mou, we think that there is a corresponding relation between principle and material force, and nature and mind in Zhu Xi’s thought; in this way nature (as principle) is never separated and is always involved in the activities of the mind (as material force) even when the material force is in the state of extreme unbalance or impurity. Thus mind, with the involvement of nature, can be responsible for one’s good or evil behavior. Mou has a very detailed exposition of his argument about Zhu Xi in his work; however, to continue the discussion will involve a complete evaluation of the philosophical system of Zhu Xi, and this is too much a task for this chapter.  Zhu Xi said, “Nature is principle 性即理,” and “The mind is material force in its refined and refreshing state 心者氣之精爽.” See Zhu (2002, vol. 14: 216 and 219). 13  This idea is expressed throughout his works on Neo-Confucianism. See Mou (1981). 12

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4 Conclusion I should admit that I am not an expert of Kant’s philosophy. This chapter can only be regarded as an attempt to bring up the philosophical issue of the root of evil through which Kant’s and Zhu Xi’s Confucian philosophy can be compared. What we want to say is that through the profound and detailed analysis of Kant, we discover a problem of moral philosophy that was never seriously discussed by the Neo-­Confucians. From this we see that Kant’s moral philosophy can really enrich the content of Neo-Confucianism or even the Confucian tradition. From the fact that Zhu Xi’s idea of physical nature can provide a solution to the problem raised in this chapter, we see that through the comparison with western philosophy we can open up a new vision to some of our traditional ideas. Of course, many scholars have already been moving along this direction.14 This chapter is only another example that comes late.

References Chan, Wing-tsit 陳榮捷. 1957. “The Neo-Confucian Solution of the Problem of Evil.” Bulletin of the Institute of History and Philology, Academia Sinica 中央研究院歷史語言研究所集刊 28: 773–791. (This article delineates the evolution of the Chinese philosophy of evil and emphasizes the Neo-Confucian idea of “physical nature” as the source of evil and the idea of “love” and “life force” as bases for the transformation of evil.) ———. 1969. A Source Book in Chinese Philosophy. Princeton: Princeton University Press. (A careful selections and translations with brief introductions of the most significant Chinese philosophical texts throughout the history of Chinese philosophy from the ancient to contemporary period.) Cheng, Hao 程顥, and Cheng Yi 程頤. 1982. Collections of the Two Cheng 二程集, 2 vols. Taipei 臺北: Liren shuju 里仁書局. Fung, Yiu-ming (Feng, Yaoming) 馮耀明. 2003. The Myth of “Transcendent Immanence”: A Perspective of Analytic Philosophy on Contemporary New Confucianism 「超越內在」的 迷思:從分析哲學觀點看當代新儒學. Hong Kong 香港: The Chinese University Press 中文 大學出版社. (This book examines and criticizes the important ideas of Contemporary New Confucianism, including the philosophies of Xiong Shili, Tang Junyi, and Mou Zongsan, from the perspective of analytic philosophy.) Graham, Angus C. 1990. “What Was New in the Ch’eng-Chu Theory of Human Nature.” Studies in Chinese Philosophy and Philosophical Literature. New York: State University of New York Press. (This article proposes and discusses the “paradigm-shift” of introducing the new conceptual scheme of equating knowledge with permeation of ch’i by li by which the Ch’eng–Chu doctrine established itself as the definitive Chinese solution of the problem of human nature.) Kant, Immanuel. 1960. Religion within the Limits of Reason Alone. Translated by Theodore M. Greene and Hoyt H. Hudson. New York: Harper Torchbooks. Lee, Ming-huei (Li, Minghui) 李明輝. 1993. “Zhu Zi on the Root of Evil 朱子論惡的根源.” In Collection of Papers of International Conference on Zhu Zi’s Learning 國際朱子學會議論文  As for the comparative studies between Confucianism and Kant’s moral philosophy, the research outcomes produced by Mou Zongsan, Lee Ming-huei and Yang Zhuhan are not unfamiliar to many scholars in the area. 14

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集, vol. 1, 553–580. Taipei 臺北: Preparatory Office of the Institute of Chinese Literature and Philosophy, Academia Sinica 中央研究院中國文哲研究所籌備處. (This article examines the problem of evil in Zhu Xi’s philosophy and argues that Zhu’s philosophy can neither explain to whom moral responsibility should be attributed, nor can it justify freedom as the basis of moral responsibility.) ———. 1994. “Kant’s Theory of the Radical Evil—And a Comparison with Mencius’ Theory of Good Human Nature 康德的根本惡說—兼與孟子的性善說相比較.” In The Re-establishment of Kant’s Ethics and Mencius’ Moral Thinking 康德倫理學與孟子道德思考之重建, 117–146. Taipei 臺北: Institute of Chinese Literature and Philosophy, Academia Sinica 中央硏究院中 國文哲硏究所. (This article explores in detail the meaning of “radical evil” in Kant’s theory and argues that it is not contradictory to Mencius’ theory of good human nature.) Mou, Zongsan 牟宗三. 1981. The Substance of Mind and Nature 心體與性體, 3 vols. Taipei 臺北: Zhengzhong shuju 正中書局. (This book provides profound and insightful interpretations and evaluations of the philosophies of important Song–Ming Neo-Confucian thinkers.) ———. 1985. On Perfect Goodness 圓善論. Taipei 臺北: Taiwan Xuesheng shuju 臺灣學生 書局. (This book deeply explores the idea of “perfect goodness” in Confucianism, Chinese Buddhism and Taoism.) Perkins, Franklin. 2014. Heaven and Earth are Not Humane—The Problem of Evil in Classical Chinese Philosophy. Bloomington: Indiana University Press. (This book centers around the issue of “bad things happen to good people” and uses this as a thread to trace the effort by Chinese thinkers of the Warring States Period.) Zhang, Zai 張載. 2014. The Complete Works of Zhang Zi 張子全書, edited by Lin Lechang 林樂 昌. Xi’an 西安: Xibei daxue chuban she 西北大學出版社. Zhu, Xi 朱熹. 2002. Complete Works of Zhu Zi 朱子全書, 27 vols. Shanghai 上海; Hefei 合肥: Shanghai guji chuban she 上海古籍出版社, Anhui jiaoyu chuban she 安徽教育出版社. Simon Man Ho Wong received his BA and MA in Chinese culture from National Taiwan University, and PhD in East Asian studies from the University of Toronto. He was a part-time instructor of religion and culture at Wilfrid Laurier University of Ontario. He was an assistant professor and is now an associate professor at the Division of Humanities, The Hong Kong University of Science and Technology. His research interest is in Chinese philosophy, especially Neo-Confucianism. He has published a book about a Chinese philosopher titled Liu Tsung-chou (1578–1645): His Doctrine of Vigilance in Solitude (in Chinese) and a number of articles on Chinese philosophy and religion.  

Chapter 18

Moral Psychology: Heartmind (Xin), Nature (Xing), and Emotions (Qing) Stephen C. Angle and Justin Tiwald

1 Introduction The central goals of Neo-Confucian philosophy are explaining why and how we humans can be good—and furthermore, why we should be good. For Zhu Xi, the basic answer to these questions is “because that is what we truly are.” We are inherently good, even though we do not always act this way. Too often, we are confused or mistaken, misperceiving our world and ourselves. Sometimes our emotions guide us well, but many times we overreact or fail to be moved when we should. The theoretical challenge which Zhu Xi shoulders is explaining how it could be that unreliable creatures like ourselves really are good, deep down, and also have the capacity to realize this goodness in a much more consistent and even spontaneous way. Like most of his Neo-Confucian brethren, Zhu Xi builds his explanation of our goodness on three main conceptual foundations. Together, the concepts of nature (xing 性), emotions (qing 情), and heartmind (xin 心) enable him to construct theories that bridge the gap between metaphysical accounts of the Pattern

Much of this chapter is derived from material in Angle and Tiwald 2017, which is a general introduction to Neo-Confucian philosophy. We thank Polity Press for permission to excerpt and re-­ organize the material in this way. All translations are our own responsibility; wherever possible, we also cite existing translations for comparison. S. C. Angle (*) Philosophy Department, Wesleyan University, Middletown, CT, USA e-mail: [email protected] J. Tiwald Department of Philosophy, San Francisco State University, San Francisco, CA, USA e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2020 K.-c. Ng, Y. Huang (eds.), Dao Companion to ZHU Xi’s Philosophy, Dao Companions to Chinese Philosophy 13, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-29175-4_18

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(li 理)1 and explanations of our individual psychological realities. In this chapter we introduce these concepts one by one, focusing on key philosophical problems that Zhu Xi attempted to solve by using them and some of the important philosophical implications of his proposed solutions. Viewing the ways that Zhu puts these concepts to work helps one to see the challenges that he faced, but also the depth and success of his philosophy. In what follows we will both canvass the three concepts of nature, emotions, and heartmind, and also elucidate some of the inter-relations among them, inter-relations that are  captured most succinctly in Zhu’s notable claim that “the heartmind unites nature and emotions,” which we unpack in the fourth section of this chapter.

2 Nature (Xing 性) 2.1 Background to Nature To properly understand Zhu’s account of nature (xing 性), it will help to begin with a brief look at both classical Confucian and Buddhist sources on xing. Classical Confucian sources tend to understand xing as that which a thing is inclined to become, if properly nurtured. Two views about human nature are particularly relevant here. The first is the proposal that human nature is good, a position both explicated and defended at length in the Mencius (Mengzi). In the context of the Mencius the claim is modest in a couple of respects. First, it does not purport to show that all people are good as a matter of fact, but rather that they have natural tendencies toward goodness: “The goodness of human nature is like water’s flowing downhill. Every person is good; all water flows downhill” (Mencius 6A.2; cf. Mengzi 2008: 144). Mencius is well aware that water can be forced upwards and that people do not always act properly. His point is that we have some spontaneous inclinations toward the good, an idea that he substantiates elsewhere in the text, for example by arguing that anyone, upon suddenly seeing a child about to fall into a well, would feel “alarm and compassion” (Mencius 2A.6; cf. Mengzi 2008: 46). Mencius also acknowledges that humans have other sorts of spontaneous inclinations that are more neutral, such as the way our mouths are disposed toward delicious flavors; we will later see that how to categorize all these sorts of inclinations is central to Zhu’s analysis of “emotion.” But for Mencius, what is most important are the good spontaneous i­ nclinations that grow when human beings are brought up under conditions conducive to their natural growth. Human nature is good in this sense.

 The translation of li is rather controversial, with “principle” and “coherence” among the other choices scholars have made. We feel that “Pattern” captures the key dimensions of the meaning of li, such as coherent inter-dependence, normativity, and ultimacy, while avoiding important drawbacks of alternatives, such as the susceptibility of “principle” to being understood on the model of single, stateable moral rules. For more discussion, see Angle and Tiwald (2017), ch. 2. 1

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Another idea about the nature that comes from classical sources has to do with the relationship between xing and the larger world. In both the Mencius and Centrality and Commonality (Zhong Yong 中庸), human “nature” has a profound connection to the cosmos (tian 天).2 For example, Mencius says, “To fully fathom one’s heartmind is to understand one’s nature. To understand one’s nature is to understand the cosmos. To preserve one’s heartmind and nourish one’s nature is the way to serve the cosmos” (Mencius 7A.1; cf. Mengzi 2008: 171).3 Zhu Xi sometimes uses “cosmos” (and especially “cosmic Pattern [tian li 天理]”) to refer to that which brings order and coherence to everything—to the cosmos as a whole—and so he sees Mencius as here indicating an intimate tie between our own natures and that of all things (whatever exactly Mencius himself may have had in mind). The second crucial influence on Neo-Confucian ideas of nature—and thus on Zhu Xi’s account of it—is Chinese Buddhism, within which the idea of “Buddha nature” had, in the centuries prior to the Song dynasty, taken on enormous significance. We cannot here delve too deeply into the complex details of Buddha nature doctrines, but a few points will be important to our subsequent analyses.4 To begin with, at first pass Buddha nature appears, on popular accounts, to be a well-formed set of capacities for Buddhahood, but at least in careful, philosophical treatments, it would be a mistake to describe these capacities too straightforwardly. For many Buddhists, these capacities do not exist in the same sense as, say, ordinary faculties and emotions do, as contingent endowments of psychological traits and dispositions. To see why not, it is helpful to consider how Buddha nature doctrines came about. Buddhists argue for the emptiness of all seemingly existent things and events, as well as for the even more basic idea that attachment to anything, even one’s seemingly good nature, is a source of suffering. This view draws on the tenet—widespread in Buddhism—that all phenomenal things are causally “conditioned”: everything that seems to exist is causally dependent on (or “conditioned” by) everything else, so that there are no independent, self-subsisting things. Nothing truly “exists” on its own. This idea is called “conditioned origination.” But already well before the time that Neo-Confucian philosophy began to get its grip in the Northern Song dynasty, influential strains of Chinese Buddhism had jettisoned the idea of conditioned origination, replacing it with the view that the source of each thing’s existence is a special, profound nature that inheres in it, the aforementioned Buddha nature. It was often glossed as our “inherent (ben 本)” nature: “inherent” not in the sense of biologically innate, but rather unconditioned by interactions with anything. Thus these latter Buddhists replaced the doctrine of conditioned origination with what they called “nature origination.” This idea of Buddha nature was explained in indirect and abstract terms, rather than being ascribed with any clear content, but  What we are translating as “cosmos” (tian) is more conventionally translated as “Heaven.” We prefer “cosmos” for reasons described in Angle (2018). 3  Centrality and Commonality opens with these lines: “What the cosmos decrees is called ‘the nature’; complying with nature is called ‘the Way’; cultivating the Way is called ‘teaching.’” Zhong Yong 1; cf. (Johnston and Wang 2012: 407). We will discuss these lines further below. 4  For further details, see Chap. 28, “Zhu Xi and Buddhism,” in this volume. 2

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some Buddhists still saw it as able to provide a grounding for ethics. The important ninth-century Buddhist thinker Zongmi 宗密 (780–841), for example, was worried about the nihilistic implications of radical strands of Chan Buddhism that were emerging in his day. Zongmi emphasized doctrines related to “Buddha nature” because, in a modern scholar’s words, they “provided a firm ontological ground for Buddhist practice” (Gregory 2002: 251). The notion of “inherent nature” had played little role in earlier Chinese debates about nature, but would come to be critical for Neo-Confucians like Zhu Xi.

2.2 Nature as Ground of Morality From a philosophical perspective, the great significance of “nature” for Zhu Xi lies in the idea that a robust conception of nature offers a way of accounting for the differences between good and bad ways to live. If it turns out that it is good to accord with or develop one’s nature, that then gives us something other than our own arbitrary inclinations on which to base distinctions between good and bad ways of being. This is all the more true if it turns out that we have reasons to think our nature is in tune with the needs and interests of the larger world. In Zhu’s view, in addition, such a conception of nature also provides a major advantage over Buddhism, which he believes treats people’s arbitrary inclinations as the basis for right and wrong ways of being. Zhu’s understanding of the implicit structure of our nature, though, presents his readers with a serious conceptual challenge. On the one hand, he is clear that there is some pre-existing structure in our nature, one that is definite and stable enough to form the basis for lasting values and moral distinctions. But there is another strand in Zhu’s thought that might appear to pull in the opposite direction, suggesting that in fact nature is more open-ended, more precisely that it describes a state of equilibrium prior to the arousal of emotions and before setting any particular aims or ends. So it might seem that Zhu Xi wants to have it both ways: to say our nature is essentially open-ended and not yet predisposed to make us act in one way rather than another, but also to say—perhaps in another sense—that it does have fixed content, and even predisposes us to be virtuouos. The conceptual challenge is to understand and appreciate how nature can be constituted in both of these ways simultaneously. A good place to begin is with this famous passage from the classical-era Centrality and Commonality: What the cosmos decrees is called “the nature”; complying with nature is called “the Way”; cultivating the Way is called “teaching.” … When joy and anger, sorrow and happiness are not yet manifest (wei fa 未發), call it “the center.” When they are already manifest (yi fa 已 發), and yet all are hitting the proper measure, call it “harmony.” Being in “the center” is the great foundation of the world; being in “harmony” is the all-pervading Way of the world. By reaching “the center” and “harmony,” heaven and earth occupy their positions and the ten thousand things are brought forth. (Zhong Yong 1; cf. Johnston and Wang 2012: 407)

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In his commentary to this passage, Zhu Xi explicitly says “nature” is characterized by the state in which the emotions (joy and anger, sorrow and happiness) are not yet manifest; in other places, he makes the same point by saying that our nature is “inherent” (Zhu 2002c: [ZY] 33; cf. Johnston and Wang 2012: 411). To understand what is going on, we need to further investigate two aspects of the passage: what it means to speak of nature (or the “not yet manifest”) as “the center,” and what sort of relation to nature is manifest when emotions attain “harmony.” Let us begin with nature itself, the “not yet manifest.” From some of the metaphors that Zhu uses to elucidate the nature, we find evidence that he believes a core feature of nature is what might be described as a kind of open-ended potential to act or respond in a wide variety of ways. For example, he repeatedly says nature is like a fire or like light, which would shine forth except for the degree to which it is blocked.5 But while nature’s potential is open-ended, it also has a sense of direction—that is, a sense of what general direction is proper for it. For Zhu, this sense of direction is a necessary constituent of one’s nature, without which the nature would be incomplete or nonexistent. To illustrate this relation, Zhu proposes that nature is like the responsibility a minister has to his ruler: insofar as one understands oneself as a minister, one thereby has a sense of direction (Zhu 2002a: [4] 192–93; cited and discussed in Fuji 2011: 71–74).6 In both cases, the idea is that to have a “nature” is to have a combination of two things: first, an ability to respond in a great variety of different ways; second, a sense of the right direction to go. The language of being centered takes advantage of these notions. When we are in the center of an open area—say, a room—we have each direction as a possible way to go and so can respond in a great variety of different ways, moving in whatever direction we want. But this does not imply that any direction will be as good as any other. The room will be structured in such a way that some directions will be better than others. There is little to be gained by moving toward a closed wall when trying to avoid something dangerous. So although one can move in a number of different directions, a wise person has some sense of which ones are preferable. For this reason one also needs a sense of directionality, an awareness of which directions are the better ones given the situation one is in. Zhu Xi makes these points when explaining what it means to say that emotions in their not-yet-manifest state are “centered”: The not-yet-manifest joy and anger, sorrow and happiness can be compared to being in the center of a room, not yet having determined on setting out to the north, south, east, or west; this is what is called “being centered.” With respect to their manifesting, this is like having left through a door—if to the east, then there is no need also to exit west … When each exiting is in accord with the circumstance without contrariness, that is called “harmony.” (Zhu 2002a: [62] 2037; cf. Fuji 2011: 76)

 Several passages in Yulei 4 make this point (Zhu 2002a: [4] 182–214), and see also Fuji’s discussion of this metaphor (2011: 73–74). 6  As Fuji notes, there is a degree to which one consciously takes up one’s role, but the responsibilities are there whether the minister recognizes them or not. 5

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So part of what makes our natural emotional capacities so powerful is that they, like a person at the center of some open area, are positioned to respond in a great variety of different ways. But Zhu takes pains to add that this does not give them free rein to do whatever they want. The place in which one is centered will make some ways of moving more sensible than others; where the windows and doorways are located make some directions the better ones by which to leave, for example. Zhu explains this in connection with the not-yet-manifest emotions that are seen as starting points for virtue: When the Four Beginnings [i.e., the moral emotions of alarm and commiseration, disdain, deference, and approval and disapproval] are not yet manifest, although [one’s heartmind is] silent and unmoving, yet its center, on its own, has ramifying Pattern (tiao li 條理); on its own, has structure [literally, rooms and house-frame]; it is not homogenous with nothing in it at all. (Zhu 2002b: [58] 2779; cf. Graham 1986: 432)

An obvious question to ask, then, is about the kind of structure in which our nature is centered—what is the arrangement of rooms and house-frame that would make some movements better than others, and thus give the centered person a sense of which directions are better than others, so to speak? According to Zhu and most Neo-Confucians, the value orientation that structures our nature—that is, defines the space in which it is centered—is the “life-giving generativity (sheng sheng 生生)” which is manifest in the productive alternation of yin and yang.7 Zhu holds both that cosmic Pattern itself is structured by life-giving generativity, and that “life” specifies the center and directionality that our nature endows in us.8 How do we know this? Zhu suggests that we ask what normatively infused responses we find unavoidable. Strip away ulterior motives and the perceptual blinders caused by selfishness, and look to our spontaneous reactions. This can be hard to do, and the Zhu of course has a great deal to say about how to cultivate one’s ability to reliably respond in this way. But he is sure that what such thought experiments and personal investigation reveal is a caring for life. In particular, Zhu builds on Mencius’ famous example of encountering a child about to fall into a well. According to Mencius, … anyone in such a situation would have a feeling of alarm and commiseration—not because one sought to get in good with the child’s parents, not because one wanted fame among one’s neighbors and friends, and not because one would dislike the sounds of the  For more on this subject, see Chap. 12, “Li and Qi” and Chap. 13, “Zhu Xi’s Metaphysical Theory of Human Nature” in this volume, and Angle and Tiwald (2017): ch. 2. 8  Zhu is contrasting this position with that which he finds in Buddhism, whose doctrine of emptiness he understands as implying that the nature has no structure: it is “homogenous,” providing no guidance. As a result, without a distinction between the everyday flow of desires, on the one hand, and the Way, on the other, one “falls into the Buddhists’ mistake of seeing all functioning whatsoever as the nature” (Zhu 2002d: [A] 557; cf. Araki 2008: 284). As Brook Ziporyn has emphasized, when operating within a holistic metaphysic of interdependence (as both Buddhists and NeoConfucians are doing, in their own ways), a center provides the orientation that gives each aspect of the whole a distinct meaning. In the radical holism of at least some Buddhists, the center can be anything, making the identity of any single aspect of the whole indeterminate or, at best, provisional (Ziporyn 2000). 7

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child’s cries. From this we can see that if one is without the feeling of alarm and commiseration, one is not human. (Mencius 2A.6; cf. Mengzi 2008: 46)

Mencius goes on to say that three other emotions are equally deeply rooted in us, and then adds that each of these four are “beginnings (duan 端)” of four corresponding virtues; for alarm and commiseration, that virtue is humaneness (ren 仁). Zhu argues that these “beginnings” are “clues (xu 緒, literally the tip of a thread)” to the not yet manifest nature within us (Zhu 2002c: [MZ3] 289).9 After all, Zhu says, “If we did not have this Pattern within us inherently, how could there be this ‘beginning’ on the outside? Since we have this beginning on the outside of us, we know for sure that we have this Pattern within us, without possibility of deception” (Zhu 2002b: [58] 2779; cf. Graham 1986: 433). There is one final issue before moving on. As discussed elsewhere in this volume, Zhu Xi holds that every thing and event has its own Pattern, even though all Patterns are ultimately one; and that all Patterns are in some sense possessed by every thing and event. Our question now is: when we are told that “nature is Pattern,” does this mean that every Pattern is actually, simultaneously present in our nature, or are they merely implied? Since it is through our heartminds that we possess our natures (as we will see more fully later in this chapter), we could reformulate this question as follows: when Zhu Xi says that our heartminds “possess the myriad Patterns (ju zhong li 具眾理),”10 do we possess each of them individually? Although some scholarly interpretations use examples or metaphors that suggest that Zhu Xi conceptualized the nature as a vast set of pre-existing items of knowledge, we believe that the evidence points toward a different picture.11,12 The same letter we quoted from above (saying that nature has an internal structure) continues as follows: When there is a stimulus from outside, the inside then responds, as when, upon encountering the stimulus of a child about to fall into a well, the Pattern of humaneness responds, and the emotion of alarm-and-compassion takes form; or when, upon encountering the stimulus of passing a temple, the Pattern of propriety responds, and the emotion of respect takes

 Most interpreters believe that Zhu’s understanding of duan is quite different from that intended by Mencius himself. For Mencius, the duan is the beginning of something that can grow into full virtue, while for Zhu, the duan are the initially experiencable parts of our natures, which do not have to (and indeed cannot) grow; see Ivanhoe (2002): 105. We use “beginning” as a translation for duan because we believe it is suitably ambiguous between these two meanings. 10  In his commentary on the assertion in Mencius 7A.4 that “The myriad things are complete in me,” Zhu Xi says that the heartmind is that “which possesses the myriad Patterns and which responds to the myriad affairs” (Zhu 2002c: [MZ13] 426–27). 11  An example of an interpretation that leans in the direction of pre-existing, individual Patterns is (Fuji 2011: 133n19), where Michiaki Fuji says that what Zhu means by saying the heartmind possesses the myriad Patterns is that “the heartmind knows a priori all of the principles, essences, and truths in the world; in other words, the heartmind possess complete ‘knowledge.’” 12  It may be relevant that in a famous discussion of the Tiantai Buddhist idea of “inherent possession in the nature (xing ju 性具),” the monk Guanding 灌頂 explicitly denies that this doctrine— according to which the heartmind includes all dharmas—should be understood on the model of individual grains of sand stored in a sack (Ziporyn 2000: 161–62). 9

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form. From within, where the myriad Patterns are all integrally and indivisibly possessed, individual Patterns become distinctly manifest. (Zhu 2002b: [58] 2779; cf. Graham 1986: 432)

The Pattern that is our nature is an interdependent whole that cannot be fully captured in words,13 but at the same time it is possessed of a complex structuring that results in reliable responses to any of a wide variety of external stimuli. Zhu says that the reason Mencius focuses on the Four Beginnings is to show students that Pattern reliably ramifies in these ways, and so we can conclude that our nature is good. In short, Zhu wants us to see that nature is not empty, but possessed of a complex and interdependent structuring—possessed of the myriad Patterns, which is just to say Pattern—that can guide us to be good.

2.3 Individuality and Failure For the many Confucians over the centuries who have held that people’s natures are mixed, different, unreliable, or even bad, it has been simple to explain why people do bad things. Most Chinese Buddhists, on the other hand, believe that we all share the same inherent “Buddha nature,” and even if they typically do not say that this nature is “good,” they are still faced with explaining our actual, mixed behavior. At the core of Buddhist explanations lies the idea of delusion. Our most basic beliefs and desires are mistaken; only when we awaken to their “emptiness” can we realize our nature. As we will see in the next section, this is often put in terms of whether or not we can generally trust our “emotions”: for Buddhists the answer tends to be no, and even early Neo-Confucians are also suspicious of the emotions. As we have seen, Zhu Xi shares with Buddhists the idea of an inherent nature, but for Zhu our inherent nature provides the direction that grounds human ethics. He therefore rejects the Buddhist idea of delusion or emptiness, insisting instead that the nature and Pattern are “substantial (shi 實)” and that at least some of our actual reactions are reliable. In other words, Zhu neither claims that our natures are to blame for our bad behavior, nor that delusion is the problem. What, then, explains that our actual characters and behavior are a mix of good and bad? Faced with this challenge, early Neo-Confucian philosophers like Zhang Zai 張 載 (1020–1077), Cheng Hao 程顥 (1032–1085), and Cheng Yi 程頤 (1033–1107) developed related answers that Zhu Xi drew on and refined. Their core idea is that the vital stuff (qi 氣) out of which we are made is often imbalanced or even flawed in some way, and thus imperfectly expresses our inherent nature. Zhang and the two Chengs use several different terms to speak about an individual’s particular ­configuration of vital stuff, the most important of which is qi zhi 氣質. The second of this term, zhi 質, means material or substrate. In the context of “qi zhi,” zhi can be understood as a kind of material substrate that generates the more immaterial

13

 This is explicitly stated at the beginning of the same letter (Zhu 2002b: [58] 2778).

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(though still physically present) qi; together, the interaction of qi and zhi constitute us.14 Qi zhi has two aspects, the endowment (or substrate) and the more readily changeable dimension, but it is ultimately one thing, just as a living and changing plant is one, dynamic thing, and thus in a broader sense, we can say that qi zhi is all qi. This idea that qi and zhi, representing less- and more-stable aspects of our physical reality, interact and change over time, is actually quite intuitive. Think of an individual with an irascible disposition. There are various obviously physical aspects to this, from underlying brain structures to the ways that one’s heartbeat accelerates under stress; and also aspects that we might be tempted to categorize as mental, like angry thoughts and emotions. On the qi zhi model, both the more fixed and the more ephemeral aspects of these phenomena all count as vital stuff in its broad, basic sense, so the ways in which they interact with one another—zhi generating qi (in its narrower sense), and qi influencing zhi—are not mysterious, unlike in more dualist models of mind–body relations. Becoming less irascible will require changing some aspects of the substrate, which in turn will affect the particular emotions we experience moment-by-moment. One contemporary scholar describes qi zhi as being one’s “contingent constitution,” which nicely expresses the idea that with work the qi zhi can be changed, but for good or ill, it reflects our current dispositions and is thus an important constituent of us (Moran 1983). This general idea—that our contingent constitution, typically expressed via the term “qi zhi,” explains our moral failures—becomes common property of Daoxue Confucianism after the Cheng brothers.15 Zhu Xi not only uses the term repeatedly, but also echoes the analysis of it that we have just given, when he says, “That through which Pattern is realized in practice necessarily follows vital stuff that has been made into substrate (zhi)” (Zhu 2002d: [MZ3] 934; for discussion, see Fuji 2011: 70). He even distinguishes vital stuff from substrate by associating the former with more ethereal “heaven,” and the latter with more material “earth.”16 In addition to explaining badness, our qi zhi also explains all of the ways in which we differ from one another. As we have seen, our natures are identical (and all-­encompassing), but the interactions of less- and more-material vital stuff with which one is endowed at birth, encompassing both the physical and emotional dimensions of all the situations that one has so far encountered, shapes the contingent constitution that one finds oneself with at a given point in time. One’s height is a matter of one’s contingent constitution, as are any quirks or dispositions that might be related to one’s history of encountering the world as a person of above-average (or below-, or what have you) height. In addition to using the term qi zhi, Zhu Xi also regularly uses another term, “nature of the contingent constitution (qi zhi zhi xing 氣質之性),” that he credits to  We are influenced here by Moran’s extensive analysis (1983).  We use the term Daoxue 道學 (“Learning of the Way”) to refer to the teachings and practices of that subset of Neo-Confucians whose views came to be closely associated with the brothers Cheng Hao or Cheng Yi, including the Cheng brothers themselves, Zhang Zai, Zhou Dunyi 周敦頤 (1017–1073), Zhu Xi, and Wang Yangming 王陽明 (1472–1529). 16  Zhu’s view on this issue develops over time; see Moran (1983: 273–75). 14 15

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both Cheng Yi and Zhang Zai. In the very few instances that Zhang Zai uses “nature of the contingent constitution,” he simply means the general characteristics (or nature) of one’s contingent constitution: for example, that one has desires. For Zhang, it is the contingent constitution itself that is doing the philosophical work, not these general characteristics. Indeed, he emphasizes that superior people do not think of this as a kind of “nature” at all (See Zhang 1978: 282).17 What, then, does Zhu Xi mean by the “nature of the contingent constitution”? We begin with three observations. First, “nature of the contingent constitution” plays an important theoretical role for Zhu and he uses it often. Second, he is quite explicit that there is really only one “nature”—and for him, this is the inherent, completely good nature that we discussed above. Therefore, third, his use of “nature of the contingent constitution” is either inconsistent or subtle. We will argue that it is the latter. Zhu is very clear that there is only one nature: “The contingent constitution is the result of yin and yang and the five phases; nature is the complete inherent reality of the supreme pivot. When speaking specifically of the nature of the contingent constitution, this is simply the complete inherent reality descended into the midst of contingent constitution, and not another, distinct nature” (Zhu 2002b: [61]; see also the discussion in Araki 2008: 298). The nature of the contingent constitution, though, is not just a generalization about the contingent constitution itself: it is the actual formless nature as instantiated (“descended into”) a specific entity. Given the way that Zhu Xi uses “qi zhi zhi xing 氣質之性,” therefore, a better translation would be “embodied nature” rather than “nature of the contingent constitution.” As he says, “Nature is just Pattern. Without the heavenly vital stuff and earthly substrate, though, this Pattern would have nowhere to reside …. Thus when speaking of nature, it is necessary to simultaneously speak of contingent constitution (qi zhi) in order to be complete” (Zhu 2002a: [4] 195). Similarly, he elsewhere says “Discussing ‘the nature of heaven and earth’ is only to refer to Pattern, but discussing ‘the embodied nature’ is to speak of Pattern and vital stuff mixed together” (Zhu 2002a: [4] 196).18 So it seems clear that he avoids the problems that some of his predecessors run into by speaking of two different kinds of nature. Of course, there remains the large question of what, exactly, it means for nature to “descend into” vital stuff; for Zhu’s answer to that question, but that is a question for another chapter.19

 Zhang is here alluding to Mencius 7B.24. See also the discussion at Kasoff (1984: 72–76), although Ira Kasoff accords the “nature of qi zhi” more weight, relative to qi zhi itself, than we think appropriate. 18  “The nature of heaven and earth,” like “the cosmic decree is what is meant by ‘nature,’” refers to the inherent nature. 19  On the problems caused by two distinct types of nature, see Angle and Tiwald (2017: ch. 3). For more on the relations between Pattern and vital stuff, see Chap. 12, “Li and Qi” in this volume, and the discussion of the asymmetrical co-dependence between Pattern and vital stuff in Angle and Tiwald (2017: ch. 2). 17

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3 Emotions (Qing 情) 3.1 Background to Emotions We now turn to another of the key ideas describing our basic psychology: “emotions (qing),” which encompass all actual, affective and/or cognitive responses we have to stimuli from the world. The word qing has a range of senses in early texts, sometimes meaning the essence of a thing and sometimes the basic dispositions, feelings, emotions, or passions that are characteristic of a thing.20 For Neo-Confucians, qing clearly has the latter set of meanings, and among the many classical passages on which they draw to spell out these “emotions,” two stand out as particularly important. One of these, from the “Evolution of Rites,” (Li Yun 禮運) offers a list of the seven emotions that people have without needing to learn them, and which sages must understand and regulate via rituals, if human society is to flourish: “What are human emotions? They are seven: joy, anger, sorrow, fear, love, dislike, and desire” (Li Ji 9). The idea here is clearly that human emotions are natural and unavoidable; they need not be taught and cannot be eliminated, but they can lead us astray and so must be regulated. This same idea appears in a passage we already met in the last section of this chapter. Centrality and Commonality tells us: “When joy and anger, sorrow and happiness are not yet manifest, call it ‘the center.’ When they are already manifest, and yet all are hitting the proper measure, call it ‘harmony’.” The four emotions listed here are not explicitly called qing, but the general sense is the same: so long as joy, anger, and so on “hit the proper measure,” we have harmony. On their own—that is, independent of a context in which they count as either hitting the proper measure or not—it seems that the emotions can only be said to be neutral. Their importance lies in the fact that they motivate or even determine behavior, so it is by shaping one’s emotions that we shape our selves and our societies. The other crucial bit of background we need before turning to Zhu Xi is the role played by Buddhism, which helped to popularize the notion that the emotions are fundamentally problematic.21 Over the centuries, Buddhists employed qing in a variety of ways.22 For our purposes, the most important uses refer to the deluded emotions and thoughts that characterize the interaction of the non-enlightened with the external world. Unlike the thinkers responsible for the classical Chinese discussions of emotion that we examined in the previous paragraph, both Indian and then Chinese Buddhists worried that our emotions and thoughts are systematically ­problematic. There are countless examples, a few of which will suffice to make the  See Eifring (2004), Harbsmeier (2004), Puett (2004), and Yu (1997: 56–66).  We note that the contrast between xing and qing is not simply an invention of Buddhism. See Barrett (1992: 94–98) for anticipations of the distinction in both Zhuangzi and Wang Bi. 22  Already near the beginning of the adaptation and translation of Buddhism into Chinese, qing is used to express the idea of a “sense faculty,” and it is periodically used in this way thereafter. Somewhat later and more commonly, qing comes to be used to correspond to “sentience”: a sentient being is one who “has qing (you qing 有情)” (See Anderl 2004: 151–52, 159). 20 21

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point. According to one sutra that was particularly well-known during NeoConfucian times, only when one’s deluded emotions have been “forgotten” does one have the heartmind of a Buddha (The Sutra of Perfect Enlightenment; T X09_243_1.c033). Similarly, an influential lay-Buddhist from the Tang dynasty announces in his greatest work: “Only the arising of emotions obstructs the wisdom of sentient beings.”23 And an important Chan collection from the tenth century includes this saying: “The moment one produces emotions, one will be bound to the world of suffering for ten thousand kalpas” (Anderl 2004: 153). It should come as no surprise, therefore, that key participants in the shared Confucian–Daoist–Buddhist discourse of the eighth and ninth centuries also adopt a largely negative view of the emotions. This is perhaps most striking in the famous “Letter on Returning to the Nature” (Fuxing shu 復性書) by Li Ao 李翺 (772–841), who is widely (and correctly) viewed as an important forerunner of the NeoConfucian revival (Barrett 1992: 28). Li’s “Letter” begins: That whereby a person may be a sage is nature; that whereby a person may be deluded as to this nature is emotion. Joy, anger, sorrow, fear, love, dislike, and desire—these seven are all the workings of emotion. When the emotions are darkened, the nature is hidden, though it is through no shortcoming of the nature: the seven follow one another in constant succession, so that the nature cannot achieve its fullness. (Fuxing shu 1.1; cf. Barrett 1992: 94)24

Even more explicitly, later in the text Li speaks of emotions that respond to an external stimulus as follows: These emotions are a perversion of the nature. Knowing that they are perverse and that perversion has no inherent existence, the heartmind will be absolutely still and not accept them, perverse thoughts will cease on their own, and the nature will shine brightly. (Fuxing shu 2; cf. Barrett 1992: 114)

Of course, these two quotations do not do justice to the argument and subtlety of Li’s essay; indeed, he makes efforts to acknowledge a positive role for something like emotions when he says things like the nature must “show its brightness through the emotions” and that the sage, “although he has emotions, he [the sage] has never had emotions” (Fuxing shu 1.3 and 2.2; cf. Barrett 1992: 96, 97). Various interpretations have been offered for these statements, but in the context of Li’s fairly brief essay, no definitive view is possible. Li’s work thus functions best as an expression of the complex state-of-play in the late Tang dynasty in which the philosophical need for the emotions to play a positive role seems to be straining against widespread worries about their problematic effects. The stance of many early Neo-Confucian philosophers is rather similar to that of Li Ao, and the tensions within Li’s position are only partly worked out. Our empha-

 From Li Tongxuan’s 李通玄 (635–730) Xin Lun 新論, T36.1739.721a6–8; cf. Koh (2011: 23).  Barrett argues throughout his commentary for a less-negative view of emotion than has become the conventional interpretation, but we do not find this particularly convincing. Barrett also resists the idea that Li Ao was simply drawing on Buddhism; here he seems to us to be correct, but fighting an old fight. Li Ao was clearly well aware of, drawing on, and even speaking to a context shot through with Buddhist ideas and terminology. 23 24

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sis here is on Zhu Xi, who makes major strides toward assigning the emotions a more positive role. In the following sections, we will explore Zhu’s view of the emotions in the context of two specific debates, one over the meaning and value of “desires (yu 欲)” and another concerning the relationship between emotions normally regarded as morally neutral or worse (the canonical seven discussed above) and the four emotions widely regarded as the starting-points for moral virtue—the “four beginnings (duan)” identified by Mencius.

3.2 Desire According to the canonical list of seven emotions, “desire” is one kind of emotion. It is a quite general category, indicating that one is drawn toward a given object or state; when one is hungry, the impulsion toward eating that one experiences is a classic desire. As we will see, there is considerable debate about whether desires can sometimes be apt. We will begin by looking at an early, extreme position that appears to argue that we should aim to have no desires at all, very much in keeping with the broader skepticism about emotions that we have already mentioned. Zhu Xi’s response to this “no desire” position is complicated, as he wants both to endorse and yet qualify it in crucial ways. We will end this section by evaluating later criticisms of Zhu’s stance. Zhou Dunyi famously asserted that sages are without desires.25 What he means by this, however, is not immediately apparent. The term “without desires” appears prominently in the early Daoist classic Daode Jing 道德經, but it is also found in a variety of other early texts, and is used in a range of contexts by later thinkers, including by Buddhists; as with so many Neo-Confucian terms of art, it is best understood as a polyvalent resource that some Neo-Confucians choose as part of the conceptual, rhetorical, and pedagogical framework they construct. Zhou uses the absence of “desire” to help define a special kind of “tranquility (jing 靜),” in which many aspects of the outer world simply do not matter to one: “The sage settles human affairs using centrality, correctness, humanity, and righteousness, and regards tranquility as fundamental. (Having no desire, one will be tranquil)” (Zhou 1990: [1] 6; cf. Zhu and Lü 1967: 1). The fundamental kind of “tranquility” mentioned is a mental state or phase we can achieve not just when at rest but when active as well: Unity is the essential way. Unity is having no desire. If one has no desire, then one is tenuous while tranquil, straight while active. Being tenuous while tranquil, one becomes intelligent and hence penetrating; being straight while active, one becomes impartial and hence all-embracing. (Zhou 1990: [2] 29–30; cf. Zhu and Lü 1967: 123)

25

 On the place of Zhou Dunyi within the Daoxue fellowship, see Tillman (1992: 115–16).

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In a final passage, we can see Zhou flesh out these ideas of “tranquility” and “no desire” in a more concrete context. Zhou cites a description of Confucius’ favorite student, Yanzi 顏子,26 and comments: Wealth and honor are what people love. Yanzi did not love or seek them but instead enjoyed poverty. What does this tell us about his unique heartmind? There are high honors and enormous wealth that one can love and seek after, but Yanzi was unlike others since he could see what was truly great and forget what was really small. He saw the great, so his mind was at peace. His mind was at peace, so there was nothing he lacked. Lacking nothing, he treated wealth, honor, poverty, and humble station in the same way. As he treated them in the same way, he could transform them and equalize them. This is why Yanzi was regarded as second to the sage. (Zhou 1990: [2] 31; cf. Chan 1963: 475).27

It certainly sounds like some desires that most of us have are ones that the sage should not have at all. If we lack these desires, we will be calm, tranquil, quiescent, and lack for nothing, though we may be desperately hungry and living in filth. Zhu Xi believed that there was much to learn from Zhou Dunyi, but he felt it was important to qualify or clarify Zhou’s statements about desire: Zhou said that one should have fewer and fewer desires until one has none, for he was afraid that people thought it enough to have few desires …. But the task of having no desire depends on one’s ability to have few desires. No one but the sage can reach the point of having no desire. Someone then asked: “But what are we to make of this word ‘desire’?” Zhu replied: “There are different meanings. This idea of having few desires—that is with respect to those desires that are improper: things like selfish desires. As for being hungry and desiring to eat or being thirsty and desiring to drink, are these desires that one can be without?” (Zhu 2002a: [94] 3172; cf. Chan 1963: 155)

Zhou was right that sages do, in some sense, reach a state of “no desire.” But it seems that there are good desires and bad desires. Zhu often refers to bad desires as “human desires (renyu 人欲)” or “selfish desires (siyu 私欲),” and it is quite clear that what makes them bad is determined not only by their objects but also by their degree of strength or their priority relative to the situation and to other desires. For example: Someone asked: “Were parents to feel boundless love for their children and to desire that the children be brilliant and become established, could that be called the sincere heartmind [i.e. the Way heartmind]?” Zhu responded: “It is proper that parents love their children, but to love without limitation and thus to unquestioningly desire things on their behalf is improper. One must properly distinguish between cosmic Pattern and human desires.” (Zhu 2002a: [13] 398–99)

Part of loving is desiring things on behalf of one’s loved ones. This can be proper, but when one “unquestioningly desires things on their behalf,” one’s desires are out of balance. In the same vein, Zhu says that “eating and drinking are the cosmic

 Yanzi is described as “having only a single dish of rice, a single gourd of drink, and living in a narrow lane; others could not have endured this distress, but he did not allow his joy to be affected” (Analects 6.11). 27  Zhou’s reference to “transform and equalize” is an obvious reference to Chapter Two of the Daoist classic Zhuangzi. 26

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Pattern, but demanding delicious flavors is human desire” (Zhu 2002a: [13] 389; cf. Chan 1989: 200). If we read Zhu sympathetically, we must conclude that in most cases it is not the object of a desire that makes it bad, but the strength of that desire at that time and place, in comparison to other desires one might have. Many desires can be acceptable, when felt to the proper degree. But if the desire becomes too strong and overpowers other desires it will tip into selfishness. It is acceptable to want that one’s children have successful careers, so long as this does not overpower the desire that they be virtuous and have good live by more meaningful measures. It is thus unjust to charge Zhu with advocating wholesale suppression of the desires, and as we will see in the next section, Zhu has important insights into the role that certain emotions can play in ethically proper motivation. As far as desires are concerned, though, Zhu focuses on their negative effects and has relatively little to teach us about positive roles that desires may play. The sharpest criticism of Zhu’s understanding of desire comes centuries later, from Dai Zhen 戴震 (1724–1777). Dai succinctly expresses the core of his conception of desire when he writes, “whatever comes from desire is always for the sake of life and nurture” (Dai 1995: [A.10] 274). Dai certainly believes that desires can go too far, but in their origins they are good, motivating us to seek things upon whose value all agree. We must be motivated by our desires, else we will care neither about ourselves nor about others. Without desires there can be no humaneness (Dai 1995: [A.10] 273). He therefore criticizes Song dynasty Confucians like Zhu Xi for all the invective that Song thinkers launched at “human desire.” Dai wonders what room is left for “humaneness”—and how, in particular, they can countenance good inclinations such as “desires for humaneness.” Dai believes that the Song understanding of humaneness is “abstract” or “empty,” divorced from the flesh-and-blood desires about which we really care—and which alone can serve to motivate us to do good for our selves and others. At the heart of ethical motivation, according to Dai, are our everyday desires (Dai 1995: [C.40] 323). In the next section we will return to Zhu to see whether he has an answer to Dai’s challenge.

3.3 The Four Beginnings as Morally Pure? In one of the most famous passages from Mencius, the author assigns a special significance to each of four specific moral reactions—reactions that structurally resemble the “emotions” we have just been discussing: Suppose someone suddenly saw a child about to fall into a well: anyone in such a situation would have a feeling of alarm and commiseration—not because one sought to get in good with the child’s parents, not because one wanted a good reputation among one’s neighbors and friends, and not because one would dislike the sounds of the child’s cries. From this we can see that if one is without the feeling of alarm and commiseration, one is not human. If one is without the feeling of disdain, one is not human. If one is without the feeling of deference, one is not human. If one is without the feeling of approval and disapproval, one is not human. The feeling of alarm and commiseration is the beginning (duan 端) of humaneness. The feeling of disdain is the beginning of righteousness. The feeling of deference is the

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beginning of propriety. The feeling of approval and disapproval is the beginning of wisdom. People having these four beginnings is like their having four limbs. (Mencius 2A.6; cf. Mengzi 2008: 46–47)

Here Mencius offers us a thought experiment for only one of the four feelings, but the passage implies that each of these four feelings is equally automatic. The term we here translate as “feeling” is actually xin 心, “heartmind,” but in this context we are to understand it as referring to specific reactions of one’s heartmind, thus “feeling.” These four feelings are reactions to circumstances, just like the emotions we have been discussing so far. Although the term qing is not used, we also see quite explicitly that the possession of these four is partly definitive of what it is to be human, and it also appears that they are natural or innate, rather than learned. In short, they seem to be structurally very similar to the seven emotions listed in the canonical “Evolution of Rites” passage cited earlier in this chapter. Two aspects of the passage make things more interesting, however. First is the fact that these four reactions seem not to be neutral, but distinctively ethical, perhaps in their own right and certainly in their connections to the corresponding virtues (of humaneness, righteousness, and so on). Second, the reactions are described as “duan,” a term whose basic meaning is “tip” or “beginning.” In the context of the Mencius, many scholars today believe that duan should be understood as “sprout”—one’s nascent ethical character is something that needs to be cultivated and grown from these sprouts—but as we will soon see, Zhu Xi understands the passage somewhat differently. There are two philosophical problems that the four beginnings have the potential to solve. The first is what we will call the “guidance problem.” As we saw above, like many Daoxue Confucians Zhu Xi thinks we cannot have direct access to nature, but emotions can serve as an indirect guide or indicator of the nature. But this raises a question: which emotions in particular are reliable guides to the nature? The theory of the four beginnings offers the hope of answering this question, so long as we can come to identify the four beginnings and learn how to expand on the glimmers of our nature that they afford us. The second is what we will call the “motivation problem.” Given that early Daoxue Confucians are suspicious of most emotions, one might criticize their theories as unable to provide some alternative source of motivation sufficient to drive people to do good things. As we just saw, Dai Zhen thinks that Zhu Xi’s distaste for desires deprives him of the very sympathetic capacities necessary to care about the life fulfillment of others. Here too the theory of the four beginnings might offer a solution, if there is good reason to think that they point to a source of motivation which is both sufficient to drive people to do virtuous things and acceptable in the eyes of the Daoxue Confucians. Cheng Yi seems to have been the first Neo-Confucian to put particular emphasis on the significance of the four beginnings; the beginnings go unmentioned in the writings of his Confucian contemporaries, both within and without the emerging

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Daoxue group.28 In the following passage, we can see Cheng Yi grappling with both of the philosophical problems we have raised: Alarm and compassion belong under love, which is an emotion rather than the nature. Sympathetic understanding (shu 恕) is a means of entry into humaneness, but not humaneness itself. It is on account of our feeling of alarm and compassion that we know that we have humaneness. (Cheng and Cheng 1981: [15] 168; cf. Bol 1992: 324; and Graham 1992: 54)

Cheng Yi is explicit here that beginnings like “alarm and compassion” are emotions (or at least aspects of a full-fledged emotion like love) rather than the virtue of humaneness itself, or expressions thereof. However, if we can take the reference to “sympathetic understanding” to relate to the feeling of connectedness with another that “alarm and compassion” signals, then this beginning might indeed help us understand how we come to feel and be moved by humaneness, thus perhaps solving the motivation problem. In addition, he also claims that it is precisely via this same beginning that we know we have humaneness, which speaks directly to the guidance problem.29 Cheng Yi is not entirely consistent in his treatment of the beginnings,30 nor does he go on to answer questions that arise if one presses at his explanation: for example, do the beginnings always motivate one in the right ways? If so, what makes them different from the standard emotions that we have been discussing throughout the chapter? For exploration of these issues—though not for definitive resolution— we must turn to Zhu Xi. A good place to start is with his famous commentary on the line from the Mencius that introduces the idea of “beginnings.” Zhu says: Alarm and commiseration, disdain, deference, approval and disapproval: these are emotions. Humaneness, righteousness, propriety, wisdom: these are nature. The heartmind unites nature and emotion. “Beginning” refers to a clue: because of the emotion’s manifestation, the inherent reality of the nature is observable, like when there is an externally visible clue to something hidden inside. (Zhu 2002c: [MZ3] 289)

One thing this passage suggests is that the beginnings are not “beginnings” in the sense of manifesting the beginning of an immature or incomplete nature. Instead, they render visible the inherent, perfect state of one’s nature. They are still only  “Duan” is used rarely, and never in its specifically Mencian sense, by figures such as Zhang Zai and Zhou Dunyi. All the uses of the term (in the Mencian sense) in the important Daoxue anthology Reflections on Things at Hand are by Cheng Yi. The same pattern can be observed in uses of the Mencius’ specific terms for the duan (like “alarm and compassion”). 29  Bol (1992: 323–26) argues that Cheng Yi uses the four beginnings to flesh out his understanding of Pattern as a kind of unified, coherent organization. Much of what Peter Bol says here seems right, except that he equivocates between the beginnings themselves (as emotions) and their corresponding virtues (such as humaneness); his discussion is really about the latter. 30  At one point Cheng Yi actually says that “within human nature there is only the four beginnings,” in much the same way that the nature of water is to be “still and tranquil like a mirror,” even though when stimulated from without water can form waves (Cheng and Cheng 1981: [18] 204; cf. Graham 1992: 53). This equation of the four beginnings with nature seems to us to be a mistake even by Cheng Yi’s own lights, perhaps a result of the difficulty of explaining answers to the sorts of questions we go on to discuss in the main text. 28

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clues or beginnings, though, because they only give us a momentary, bounded glimpse at what is in fact unified, holistic, and all-inclusive. Even a perfect emotional manifestation can only be perfect in its moment, ideally suited to the immediate context. Are the beginnings always perfect, though? Here Zhu Xi’s recorded sayings provide conflicting evidence. At one point he says that “The four beginnings are the manifestation of Pattern; the seven emotions are the manifestation of vital stuff” (Zhu 2002a: [53] 1776). But on some interpretations this seems to be at odds with Zhu’s broader metaphysical views. For example, the strongest reading of this passage—that the beginnings are only Pattern, and the emotions only vital stuff—is a complete non-starter, since Zhu clearly holds both that any detectable manifestation must be mediated in vital stuff, and that any manifestation of vital stuff must have its Pattern. Even those later interpreters who rest significant weight on this passage still acknowledge these facts.31 Another important bit of evidence comes from Zhu’s statement that the beginnings are manifestation of emotion in which “the emotion emerges from the nature and is good” (Zhu 2002a: [5] 228). This makes it clear that the beginnings are a form of emotion, and seems to say that they are always good. In a third passage, though, Zhu is explicit that the beginnings are apparently not always good: As for alarm and commiseration and shame and dislike, there are cases when they hit the proper measure and cases when they do not hit the proper measure. If one feels alarm and compassion when it is inappropriate … then it is not hitting the proper measure. (Zhu 2002a: [53] 1762)

Zhu does not say how often a reaction of alarm and commiseration can go awry, but clearly it is a possibility. Recall Zhu’s statement quoted above that “to love one’s children without limitation and thus to unquestioningly desire things on their behalf is improper.” Presumably a reaction of alarm and commiseration can similarly be too strong, perhaps because it is not balanced by other aspects of a situation that also call for one’s reaction. On balance, we should understand Zhu in this way. As we saw above, our nature cannot be directly accessed or described but its directionality is revealed through our emotions. As Zhu says at one point: “When one has this nature, one will express these emotions. Via the emotions, one sees the nature. Today there are these emotions, we can then see that inherently there is this nature” (Zhu 2002a: [5] 224; cf. Virág 2007: 81). The beginnings are special types of emotion because they are paradigmatic cases of the ways in which our emotions can reveal our nature, but they are not infallible. At the same time, any of our emotions can be a perfect expression of our nature, even if the “seven” may be less reliable than the “four.” After all, “the sage’s joy and anger are supremely impartial and smoothly responsive, the ­extremity

 For example, the most that the Korean Neo-Confucian Yi T’oegye says (as part of the famous Four-Seven Debate) is that “although neither [the four nor the seven] is separable from Pattern and qi, on the basis of their point of origin, each points to a predominant factor and emphasis” (Kalton 1994: 11, slightly modified). 31

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of cosmic Pattern” (Zhu 2002b: [67] 3277). In short, Zhu Xi assigns the emotions a more active and positive role in human psychology than did many of his predecessors.32 Earlier in this section we introduced the guidance problem and the motivation problem. Zhu Xi’s answer to the latter seems to be this: there is no special problem about being motivated to follow Pattern, because apt, Pattern-following reactions— whether of the “four beginnings” type or the “seven emotions” type—are all instances of genuine emotions, which are intrinsically motivating. There is no need for a distinctive (and implausible) other type of pure motivation. The guidance problem is trickier. We have suggested that Zhu may find the four beginnings to be more reliable than the seven emotions, but it is hard to see exactly what the basis for this might be, and in any event Zhu clearly holds that even the beginnings can go wrong. His view, then, is a kind of fallibilism in which we continually strive to put ourselves in positions in which we will respond well, even though we seem to have few ways of guaranteeing that we have succeeded in a given instance.

4 Heartmind (Xin 心) 4.1 Background to Heartmind Zhu Xi’s ultimate concern in getting an accurate account of ideas that are “formless (xing er shang 形而上; also translated as “above form”)” like Pattern and nature is to justify his specific vision of goodness and virtue, and to specify the means by which they can be achieved. Thus he pays close attention to the connection between such metaphysical notions and his views on moral understanding, good character, and moral cultivation. One crucial way of making these connections is by clarifying how the subjective cognitions and emotions of people can be made accurately to reflect and express Pattern, especially the cosmic Pattern (tian li) that gives value to the entire whole. In order to account for this alignment he takes a great deal of interest in the seat of mental and emotional phenomena which is called, in Chinese, xin 心, a term that is variously translated as “mind,” “heart,” or some combination of the two. In the most basic sense of the term, xin refers to the organ that we today call the heart, but like virtually all Chinese thinkers, Zhu Xi takes this organ to be the locus of both conation (emotions, inclinations) and cognition (understanding, beliefs). “Heartmind” expresses this unity well and is the translation we adopt here. Our goal in the remaining sections of the chapter is to focus on how the heartmind connects up with Pattern and the nature. 32  Many modern scholars have emphasized this theme in Zhu Xi; see, e.g., Araki (2008), Virág (2007), Fuji (2011), and Shun (2015). To be sure, Zhu is not alone in holding such a view; it seems to be a rather common feature of Southern Song Daoxue. For example, Hoyt Tillman shows that Zhang Shi 張栻 (1133–1180) held quite similar views—indeed, Zhang seems to have been importantly influential on Zhu in this regard. See Tillman (1992: 47–49).

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To begin with, let us look a little more closely at one of the issues that motivate a Neo-Confucian like Zhu Xi to take a philosophical interest in the heartmind. On his view, one thing that distinguishes Confucianism from rival schools of thought is that Confucian ethics and methods of moral cultivation help to create a heartmind that is responsive to Pattern rather than to contingent and subjective whims and inclinations. Zhu identifies this as a major point of departure from Buddhism, and a mark of Confucianism’s commitment to the greater good (Zhu 2002a: [126] 3939; cf. Chan 1963: 649). To show how we can develop heartminds that accord with Pattern, however, we need to know something about the nature and function of the heartmind as such: how it comes to have intentions and emotions that do or do not track the larger world and its underlying structure. Let us call this set of issues the “accordance problem.” Simplifying somewhat, we could put most answers somewhere along a spectrum. At one end is the view that the heartmind’s primary role consists in adjusting itself to fit norms that are independent from it, much as we may revise our beliefs or feelings in light of new evidence. But this is not the only way to bring moral norms and the heartmind into accordance. At the other end of the spectrum, some instead say that the heartmind is itself a source or basis of the norms, so that the norms are, in some sense and to some degree, already aligned with the heartmind just by their nature. For example, a young person might be required to treat an elder with respect because respect for elders is part of the deep structure of her thinking and emotions. Perhaps the very status of the other person as an elder, or even as a person, is a product of her heartmind. For ease of reference, we will say that the first sort of answer makes it the heartmind’s task to adapt to externally given norms, and the second sort of answer makes the heartmind a source of those norms. Even at this general level of description we can begin to see why both sorts of answers might be problematic. If we want to solve the accordance problem by saying that the heartmind is a source of moral norms, then we will have trouble justifying corrections to the emotions, desires, and thoughts that our heartminds are already predisposed to have. If we think there is something wrong with a father’s inclination to abandon his young children and elderly parents, we would need some way of explaining why this inclination is wrong. If one thinks that a given heartmind’s reactions (i.e., emotions, desires, or thoughts) are incorrect, on what basis can they be criticized? If the only standard of assessment is the heartmind’s reactions themselves, this seems too subjective, without any independence whatsoever. Let us call this the problem of finding an independent standard of assessment. However, appeals to the adaptability of the heartmind may also be problematic. Most obvious is that the heartmind seems to be riddled with powerful emotions, attachments, and cognitive predispositions that set barriers—perhaps insurmountable ones—to its powers of adaptation. For example, no matter how much we may aspire to love everyone equally, it seems nearly impossible to avoid loving members of our own family more than people completely unknown to us. Another limitation is more subtle. Let us say that virtuous people are more wholeheartedly invested in their thinking and behavior than are people who merely follow the rules. A virtuous youth does not just respect her elders because it is required; she respects them

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because she has powerful aversions to seeing her elders treated with disdain, because she takes joy in seeing them treated respectfully, and because she understands at a deep level how respect for elders maintains a kind of social harmony and, ultimately, contributes to ongoing life-generativity. Without wholeheartedness, furthermore, efforts at mere rule-following may leave one adrift if the application of past rules to new cases is unclear, and one may also experience uncomfortable doubts based in one’s inability to see how different rules mesh with one another into a coherent unity. Perhaps the heartmind’s powers of adaptation might be stretched to fulfill everything demanded of it, but it is hard to see how it could have the strong, thoroughgoing cognitive and emotional investment in this way of life if these demands are completely detached from its own internal constitution. Many Neo-­ Confucians are concerned about this latter limitation, which we can call the problem of wholeheartedness. To sum up, then, the accordance problem has two basic types of answers (setting aside for now efforts to stake out middle positions): adapt the heartmind to norms, which then faces worries about wholeheartedness, or understand the heartmind as the source of norms, which then faces worries about independent standards.

4.2 Zhu Xi on Nature, Emotions, and the Heartmind We turn now to Zhu Xi, whose account of the heartmind is explicitly designed to avoid two sorts of extremes: those that insist too strongly on heartmind as the “source” of Pattern and those that identify heartmind too closely with vital stuff (which often goes hand-in-hand with an emphasis on the need to “adapt” the heartmind). On the one hand, he holds that views of those who collapse the distinction between heartmind and Pattern—and here he names his Daoxue contemporaries Lu Xiangshan 陸象山 (1139–1193) and Zhang Jiucheng 張九成 (1092–1159)—seem to eliminate the possibility of actual psychological guidance from our heartminds. He also worries that it might lead to a Buddhist subjectivism, according to which nature, Pattern, and the whole cosmos lose their objectivity, becoming simply inventions of our subjective heartminds. He insists that: “heaven and earth are inherently existing things; they are not created by our heartminds” (Zhu 2002b: [70] 3403; see discussion in Araki 2008: 274). On the other hand, Zhu is also not happy to think of the heartmind as simply the physical organ or the contingent emotions that it happens to have at a given time. He regularly uses the term “inherent heartmind (benxin 本心)” and also emphasizes the “Way heartmind (daoxin 道心),” thus ascribing to the heartmind a certain independence from the contingent state of one’s vital stuff. Zhu defends a middle position which, in his view, avoids the hazards of each of the two extremes, and to express this position he borrows a phrase from the earlier Neo-Confucian Zhang Zai: “the heartmind unites nature and emotion” (xin tong xing qing 心統性情) (Zhang 1978: 338–40). Zhu means that the heartmind is the crucial nexus that brings together our formless nature and our contingent, empirical emotions, but how does it do this? What sort of “uniting (tong 統)” does Zhu have

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in mind? There is ­considerable scholarly controversy here, with some influential voices claiming that Zhu understands the heartmind through the category of vital stuff: that is, as an empirical entity capable of grasping empirical truths. However, in light of both specific statements that Zhu makes to the contrary, and our overall understanding of Zhu’s philosophical position, we believe that Zhu cannot hold that the heartmind is simply vital stuff.33 Instead, we find the recent interpretation of Michiaki Fujii 藤井倫明—which builds on the work of a range of other scholars— to be compelling.34 Fuji argues that Zhu’s view is that the nature and the emotions mutually constitute one another, and that this process of mutual constitution is the heartmind. So heartmind is neither Pattern nor vital stuff alone. Let us explain. Recall from section two the distinction between the not-yet-­ manifest—the realm of nature, centeredness, Pattern—and the already-manifest, where we find emotion. Zhu says that the “heartmind is not placed between the already-­manifest and the not-yet-manifest; it is both, through-and-through” (Zhu 2002a: [5] 220; cf. Fuji 2011: 163–64). How, then, do we interpret Zhu’s statements that the “heartmind possesses (ju 具) Pattern,” “heartmind includes (bao 包) nature,” and “Pattern is just in the midst of heartmind”? As Fuji emphasizes, the answer is not to envision an actual space inside of the heartmind where Pattern/nature is located, even though Zhu does on rare occasion say things that might suggest this (Fuji 2011: 156; Zhu 2002a: [98] 3305). Instead, it helps to think in terms of processes rather than spaces. The on-going process of the not-yet-manifest becoming manifest—which we just saw Zhu identify with the heartmind—can also be understood as the process of emotions emerging from the nature. As we explained above, nature is a kind of directionality or centeredness. It is present throughout the process of our emotions being manifested in response to a given stimulus, even when our response is ultimately inapt or off-center (i.e., bad). Putting this all together, we can say that the heartmind is really a process: it is the emotions continuously emerging under the (often partial) direction of the nature. Fuji suggests that the heartmind can be understood diagrammatically as follows: [nature ➔ emotion] = heartmind. (Fuji 2011: 165)35

 In fact, nothing—not even a rock—is simply vital stuff, since on Zhu’s view there is Pattern in everything. Our thanks to the Editors for pointing this out. For a short review of the scholars who see heartmind as vital stuff and for passages from Zhu Xi that are at odds with this view see Chen L. (2010: 117–29). 34  In addition to Fuji (2011: ch. 6), we have also benefitted from Wu 2009, although we are not persuaded by Wu’s ultimate conclusion. Both scholars review the existing literature: Qian Mu 錢 穆 and Mou Zongsan 牟宗三 hold that according to Zhu, the heartmind is that aspect of vital stuff capable of knowing; Chen Lai 陳來 says that it is a kind of perceptual category but is not vital stuff; and scholars like Meng Peiyuan 蒙培元 and Jin Chunfeng 金春峰 maintain that Zhu’s idea of heartmind is actually closer to Wang Yangming’s idea of “inherent heartmind” (see Fuji 2011: 151–52 and Wu 2009: 112). 35  See also the discussion in Wu (2009: 113) of another passage from Zhu that makes the same point: “The heartmind is mastered by the nature and put into effect by the emotions” (Zhu 2002a: [5] 230). 33

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This conception of the heartmind is made explicit by Zhu Xi’s student Chen Chun 陳淳 (1159–1223), who says that only when Pattern (nature) and qi (emotions) come together do we have heartmind. Chen adds that if we were to follow the Buddhists and eliminate emotion, then only “dead” nature would be left.36 Nature is “live” through being part of the heartmind’s continuous responses to the world. To wrap up this discussion of the metaphysics of Zhu Xi’s heartmind, we turn now to his development of the terms “Way heartmind” and “human heartmind (ren xin 人心).” Cheng Yi originally introduced these terms in an effort to explain how his two senses of “heartmind” might interact with one another.37 The first thing to understand for Zhu Xi is that the “Way heartmind” is not equivalent to Pattern, as it had been for Cheng Yi. Instead, both human heartmind and Way heartmind are “already-manifest,” which—given what we have just seen about Zhu’s understanding of the heartmind—only makes sense if they are both supposed genuinely to be means of talking about the heartmind, since the heartmind cannot be disconnected from the manifesting of emotion.38 So what is the difference between these two ways of talking? Zhu Xi explains: The heartmind is one. When we speak of it from the perspective of its containing cosmic Pattern and its spontaneous manifestation in each circumstance, we call it “Way heartmind.” From the perspective of having goals and conscious motives, we call it “human heartmind.” Now having goals and conscious motives is not always bad. We still call it “selfish desire,” though, since it is not completely spontaneously manifesting from cosmic Pattern (Zhu 2002b: [32] 1396; cf. Fuji 2011: 60).

Zhu adds that if one can reach the point of no comparison and calculation, such that one’s reactions are wholly the “pervasive circulation of cosmic Pattern (tian li liu xing 天理流行),” then this is the “human heartmind with the consciousness of the Way heartmind.” In another place, Zhu calls this the “human heartmind being transformed into the Way heartmind” (Zhu 2002b: [51] 2381, cf. Chen L. 2000: 230). As the contemporary scholar Chen Lai emphasizes, such a transformation does not mean that one has been purged of emotions. Instead, as Zhu Xi himself puts it, “when the human heartmind and Way heartmind are unified, it is as if that human heartmind had disappeared” (Zhu 2002a: [78] 2666; cf. Chen L. 2000: 230). One still has emotions, but one does not give them any inappropriate weight. More concretely, Zhu puts it this way: Take the case of food. When one is hungry or thirsty and desires to eat one’s fill, that is the human heartmind. However, there must be moral Pattern in it. There are times one should

 Chen C. 1983: [A] 11; cf. Chen C. 1986: 56 and Fuji 2011: 156; and Chen C. 1983: [A] 15; cf. Chen C. 1986: 63 and Fuji 2011: 160. 37  For more on this, see Angle and Tiwald (2017: ch. 4). 38  Chen Lai (2000: 229) argues explicitly for this view that both daoxin and renxin are alreadymanifest, contrary not only to Cheng Yi but also to the Ming Neo-Confucian Luo Qinshun 羅欽 順 (1465–1547). Other Ming Neo-Confucians who took themselves to be followers of Zhu Xi also misunderstood Zhu’s view and equated daoxin and nature: for example, see the discussion of Chen Jian 陳建 (1497–1567) in de Bary (1989: 101). 36

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eat and times one should not …. This is the correctness of the Way heartmind. (Zhu 2002a: [62] 2014; cf. Chan 1989: 202)

Whenever one’s desires to eat spontaneously match up with Pattern, that is a human heartmind that has been transformed into the Way heartmind. The accordance problem focuses on how one’s heartmind—and thus the actual reactions one has to the world—is able to accord with Pattern. We saw above that the accordance problem has two basic types of answers: adapt the heartmind to norms, which then faces worries about wholeheartedness, or understand the heartmind as the source of norms, which then faces worries about independent standards of assessment. Zhu Xi’s answer leans more in the “adapt” direction than do those Neo-Confucians who assert an equivalence between heartmind and Pattern, so it is fair to ask whether Zhu’s approach leaves us unable to wholeheartedly embrace Pattern. Zhu’s answer would be to deny that he draws too firm a line between Pattern and the heartmind. Even though it is usually imperfectly realized, in each of us the nature of our heartmind is, still, cosmic Pattern, and as we have just seen, it is possible for one to transform one’s heartmind so that it is the “Way heartmind,” perfectly expressing Pattern. Zhu believes that this process of transformation is lengthy and does demand that we pay attention to external sources of learning and authority. But he insists that learning can transcend merely superficial adaptations to external standards and attain wholeheartedness, his term for which is “sincerity (cheng 誠).”39

5 Conclusion The theories of moral psychology explored in this chapter are the crucial fulcrum connecting Zhu Xi’s most abstract, metaphysical theories with his most concrete teachings concerning self-cultivation, education, and institutional design. Zhu’s ideas concerning Pattern and vital stuff may be the most well-known today, but there is no doubt that his theories of nature, emotions, and heartmind are among his most philosophically sophisticated. As we have explained throughout the chapter, his nuanced positions offer robust answers to challenges ranging from how our formless nature can nonetherless direct us, to how our emotions can properly guide and motivate us, to how we are able to wholeheartedly accord with Pattern. We believe that Zhu’s answers to these various problems are impressively defensible, but we also acknowledge that his moral psychological theories cannot be evaluated independently from the many other views on which they depend and for which they serve as key premises. A comprehensive philosophiocal encounter with Zhu Xi therefore requires taking all of the chapters in this volume into account. Like the views of any great philosopher, Zhu’s positions are open to both philosophical critique or improvement, and to disputes over his exact intent; the chapters of this volume are the latest contributions to an eight-hundred-year tradition of 39

 For more on sincerity, see Angle and Tiwald (2017: 167–70).

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reflecting on Zhu’s monumental philosophical accomplishments. While we have done our best to sift through and be guided by the best existing scholarship as we developed the interpretations presented here, there is no doubt that the work of Zhu Xi interpretation will continue onward—as will the creative use of his ideas to spark new philosophical developments. With the help of volumes like this, we expect that these processes will become ever more global and sophisticated in years to come.

References Anderl, Christoph. 2004. “The Semantics of Qing 情 in Chan Buddhist Chinese.” In Halvor Eifring, ed., Love and Emotions in Traditional Chinese Literature (149–224). Leiden: Brill. (Detailed investigation of the different meanings of qing in Chan Buddhist contexts.) Angle, Stephen C. 2018. “Tian as Cosmos in Zhu Xi’s Neo-Confucianism.” Dao: A Journal of Comparative Philosophy 17.2: 169–85. (Defends an integrated understanding of Zhu Xi’s idea of tian, and proposes that this concept is well-translated by “cosmos.”) Angle, Stephen C., and Justin Tiwald. 2017. Neo-Confucianism: A Philosophical Introduction. Oxford: Polity Press. (Thematically organized introduction to Neo-Confucian philosophy.) Araki, Kengo 荒木見悟. 2008. Buddhism and Confucianism 佛教與儒教. Taipei 臺北: Lianjing chubanshe 聯經出版社. (Seminal treatment of the relations between Neo-Confucianism and Chinese Buddhism, focusing on Zhu Xi and Wang Yangming.) Barrett, T. H. 1992. Li Ao: Buddhist, Taoist, or Neo-Confucian? Oxford: Oxford University Press. (Influential study of the Tang thinker Li Ao, emphasizing the ways his social and intellectual context shaped the expression of his thought.) Bol, Peter K. 1992. “This Culture of Ours”: Intellectual Transitions in T’ang and Sung China. Stanford: Stanford University Press. (Wide-ranging study of the emergence of Song intellectual culture and of Neo-Confucianism.) Chan, Wing-tsit. 1963. A Sourcebook in Chinese Philosophy. Princeton: Princeton University Press. ———. 1989. Chu Hsi: New Studies. Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press. Chen, Chun 陳淳. 1983. Chen Chun’s Explanation of the Meanings of Terms 北溪字義. Beijing 北 京: Zhonghua Shuju 中華書局. (A thoroughgoing and systematic overview of key terms and concepts in Zhu Xi’s thought, by one of Zhu’s most influential students.) Chen, Chun. 1986. Neo-Confucian Terms Explained (the Pei-Hsi Tzu-I), trans. Wang-tsit Chan. New York: Columbia University Press. Chen, Lai 陳來. 2000. Research into Zhu Xi’s Philosophy 朱熹哲學研究. Shanghai 上海: Huadong shifan daxue chubanshe 華東師範大學出版社. (An authoritative overview of Zhu’s philosophical thought, which pays close attention to shifts in his views over the course of his life.) ———. 2010. Research into the History of Modern Chinese Thought 中國近世思想史研究. Beijing 北京: SDX Joint Publishing Co. 生活.讀書.新知三聯書店. Cheng, Hao 程顥, and Cheng Yi 程頤. 1981. Collected Works of the Cheng Brothers 二程集. Beijing 北京: Zhonghua Shuju 中華書局. Dai, Zhen 戴震. 1995. Evidential Commentary on the Meaning of Terms in the Mencius 孟子字 義疏證. In Zhang Dainian 張岱年, ed., Complete Works of Dai Zhen 戴震全書. Hefei 合肥: Huangshan Shushe 黃山書社. de Bary, William Theodore. 1989. The Message of the Mind in Neo-Confucianism. New  York: Columbia University Press. (Emphasizes the role of the heartmind [xin] for many Neo-­ Confucians, including Zhu Xi.)

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Eifring, Halvor. 2004. “Introduction: Emotions and the Conceptual History of Qing 情.” In Halvor Eifring, ed., Love and Emotion in Traditional Chinese Literature (1–36). Leiden: Brill. (Summary of the changing meanings of qing [emotion] in different temporal and conceptual contexts.) Fujii, Michiaki 藤井倫明. 2011. Research on the Structure of Zhu Xi’s Thought 朱熹思想結構 探索. Taipei 臺北: Taida chuban zhongxin 臺大出版中心. (Insightful study of Zhu Xi’s philosophy offering novel and charitable readings of many ideas central to Zhu’s metaphysics and moral psychology.) Graham, A. C. 1986. “What was New in the Ch’eng–Chu Theory of Human Nature?” In A. C. Graham, ed., Studies in Chinese Philosophy and Philosophical Literature (412–435). Singapore: Institute of East Asian Philosophies. ———. 1992. Two Chinese Philosophers: The Metaphysics of the Brothers Ch’eng. La Salle: Open Court. Gregory, Peter N. 2002. Tsung-Mi and the Sinification of Buddhism. Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press. Harbsmeier, Christoph. 2004. “The Semantics of Qíng 情 in Pre-Buddhist Chinese.” In Halvor Eifring, ed., Love and Emotion in Traditional Chinese Literature (69–148). Leiden: Brill. Ivanhoe, Philip J.  2002. Ethics in the Confucian Tradition: The Thought of Mengzi and Wang Yangming. Indianapolis/Cambridge: Hackett. (An authoritative analysis and comparison of the ethics of Mencius and Wang Yangming, highlighting the influence of Buddhism and Neo-­ Confucian metaphysics on Wang.) Johnston, Ian, and Wang Ping, eds. and trans. 2012. Daxue & Zhongyong: Bilingual Edition. Hong Kong: Chinese University of Hong Kong Press. Kalton, Michael, ed. 1994. The Four-Seven Debate: An Annotated Translation of the Most Famous Controversy in Korean Neo-Confucian Thought. Albany: State University of New York Press. Kasoff, Ira E. 1984. The Thought of Chang Tsai (1020–1077). New York: Cambridge University Press. Koh, Sunghak. 2011. Li Tongxuan’s (635–730) Thought and His Place in the Huayan Tradition of Chinese Buddhism. UCLA Dissertation. (Careful study of Li Tongxuan that illuminates the complexity of Tang intellectual exchange.) Mengzi. 2008. In Mengzi: With Selections from Traditional Commentaries, trans. by Bryan W. Van Norden. Cambridge: Hackett. Moran, Patrick Edwin. 1983. Explorations of Chinese Metaphysical Concepts: The History of Some Key Terms from the Beginnings to Chu Hsi (1130–1200). University of Pennsylvania Dissertation. (A highly informed and well-researched overview of Confucian metaphysics through Zhu Xi. This work is particularly insightful about Neo-Confucian conceptions of qi zhi 氣質, translated in this chapter as “contingent constitution.”) Puett, Michael. 2004. “The Ethics of Responding Properly: The Notion of Qing 情 in Early Chinese Thought.” In Halvor Eifring, ed., Introduction: Emotions and the Conceptualhistory of Qing 情 (37–68). Leiden: Brill. Shun, Kwong-loi. 2015. “Dai Zhen on Nature (Xing) and Pattern (Li).” Journal of Chinese Philosophy 41.1–2: 5–17. Tillman, Hoyt C. 1992. Confucian Discourse and Chu Hsi’s Ascendancy. Honolulu: University of Hawaii. (A sophisticated work of intellectual history that describes the rise of Daoxue [“The Learning of the Way”], which came to be closely associated with Zhu Xi and state orthodoxy after the Song dynasty.) Virág, Curie. 2007. “Emotions and Human Agency in the Thought of Zhu Xi.” Journal of Sung– Yuan Studies 37:49–88. (Places Zhu Xi’s comparatively positive evaluation of the emotions in a broader historical and conceptual framework.) Wu, Zhen 吳震. 2009. “‘The Heartmind is the Locus of Effort’— Some Questions Concernining Zhu Xi’s ‘Doctrine of Heartmind’ 「心是做工夫處」——關於朱子「心論」的幾個問題” In The Spiritual World of Song Dynasty Neo-Confucianism 宋代新儒學的精神世界 (112– 138). Shanghai 上海: Huadong shifan daxue chubanshe 華東師範大學出版社. (Detailed

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analysis of Zhu Xi’s theory of heartmind, concluding with a criticism of Zhu for being unable to resolve the puzzle of how there can be “mastery” without the “two heartmind” view that Zhu attributes to Hunan thinkers.) Yu, Anthony C. 1997. Rereading the Stone: Desire and the Making of Fiction in Dream of the Red Chamber. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Zhang, Zai 張載. 1978. Collected Works of Zhang Zai 張載集. Beijing 北京: Zhonghua shuju 中 華書局. Zhou, Dunyi 周敦頤. 1990. Collected Works of Zhou Dunyi 周敦頤集. Beijing 北京: Zhonghua shuju 中華書局. Zhu, Xi 朱熹. 2002a. Zhuzi Yulei 朱子語類. In Complete Works of Master Zhu 朱子全書. Shanghai 上海 and Hefei 合肥: Shanghai Guji chubanshe 上海古籍出版社 and Anhui Jiaoyu chubanshe 安徽教育出版社. ———. 2002b. Zhuwengong Wenji 朱文公文集. In Complete Works of Master Zhu 朱子全書. Shanghai 上海 and Hefei 合肥: Shanghai Guji chubanshe 上海古籍出版社 and Anhui Jiaoyu chubanshe 安徽教育出版社. ———. 2002c. Sishu Zhangju Jizhu 四書章句集注. In Complete Works of Master Zhu 朱子全書. Shanghai 上海 and Hefei 合肥: Shanghai Guji chubanshe 上海古籍出版社 and Anhui Jiaoyu chubanshe 安徽教育出版社. ———. 2002d. Sishu Huowen 四書或問. In Complete Works of Master Zhu 朱子全書. Shanghai 上海 and Hefei 合肥: Shanghai Guji chubanshe 上海古籍出版社 and Anhui Jiaoyu chubanshe 安徽教育出版社. Zhu, Xi, and Lü Zuqian. 1967. Reflections on Things at Hand. New York: Columbia University Press. Ziporyn, Brook. 2000. Evil and/or/as the Good: Omnicentrism, Intersubjectvity, and Value Paradox in Tiantai Buddhist Thought. Cambridge: Harvard University Asia Center. (Original and insightful exploration of Tiantai thought.) Stephen C. Angle is a director of the Fries Center for Global Studies, Mansfield Freeman professor of East Asian studies, and a professor of philosophy at Wesleyan University. He is the author of four books, including Sagehood: The Contemporary Significance of Neo-Confucian Philosophy (2009; Chinese edition, 2017) and, with co-author Justin Tiwald, Neo-Confucianism: A Philosophical Introduction (2017). His blog on Chinese and comparative philosophy is .  

Justin Tiwald is a professor of philosophy at San Francisco State University. His research focuses on classical Confucian, Neo-Confucian, and Daoist views on ethics, politics, and well-being. Recent publications include Neo-Confucianism: A Philosophical Introduction (with Stephen C. Angle, 2017) and Readings in Later Chinese Philosophy (with Bryan W. Van Norden, 2014). With Eric L. Hutton, he is co-editor of the translation series Oxford Chinese Thought.  

Chapter 19

Zhu Xi and the Idea of One Body Kwong-loi Shun

1 Introduction Zhu Xi idealizes a state of existence in which one forms one body (yi ti 一體) with all things, describing the sage as being in such a state. This chapter will discuss the way he understands this idea and its philosophical implications. In previous publications, I proposed an approach to the philosophical study of Confucian thought that starts from within the tradition, seeking to approximate the perspectives of the Confucian thinkers before eventually building a linkage to contemporary western philosophical discourse (Shun 2016b). We start by carefully examining the key terms and the texts, taking into account the historical contexts. Having extracted the ideas of the Confucian thinkers on this basis, we probe their life experiences that these ideas reflect, identifying experiences that are shared across cultures and times. We then relate their ideas to our own experiences akin to theirs, before engaging in more systematic reflections on these ideas and relating them to contemporary philosophical discourse. Following this approach, this chapter will be in three main parts: historical background to Zhu’s idea of one body (Sect. 2), Zhu’s understanding of the idea (Sect. 3), and philosophical implications of Zhu’s views (Sect. 4). Zhu’s understanding of the idea has five dimensions: (1) sensitivity to harm to all things; (2) giving life to and nourishing all things; (3) viewing the human community in terms of family relationships; (4) a sense of mission and accountability; and (5) the idea of no self (wu wo 無我). The first, second, and fourth dimensions spell out the way someone in that state relates to humans and things, the third provides a model for making sense of these three dimensions, while the fifth highlights the central element of the state of one body. The first four dimensions draw on ideas K.-l. Shun (*) Department of Philosophy, University of California, Berkeley, Berkeley, CA, USA e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2020 K.-c. Ng, Y. Huang (eds.), Dao Companion to ZHU Xi’s Philosophy, Dao Companions to Chinese Philosophy 13, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-29175-4_19

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before Zhu’s times, and Sect. 2 will discuss the evolvement of these four themes from pre-Qin to early Song. Section 3 focuses on Zhu’s understanding of the idea of one body, how he draws on and integrates ideas of other early Song Confucians, including Zhang Zai 張載 (1020–1077), Cheng Hao 程顥 (1032–1085), and Cheng Yi 程頤 (1033–1107). Though the idea of no self can be traced to some earlier sources, it is these early Song thinkers, including Zhu himself, who make it prominent and relate it to the idea of one body. Section 4 discusses the philosophical implications of the idea of one body, in particular its relation to contemporary discussions of related ideas such as sympathy, empathy, perspective taking, and self– other merging. As the chapter will focus on the human experiences underlying the idea of one body that are shared across cultures and times, its discussion will abstract from details that are specific to Zhu’s thinking or to the Song–Ming periods. For example, both Zhu and certain other Song–Ming Confucians believe that humans already form one body with all things in their original state, but this belief is relatively specific to that period. I will bracket this aspect of Zhu’s views and instead consider the state of one body primarily as an ethical ideal for humans. Also, Zhu often elaborates on the idea in terms of the way he understands the relation between li 理 (pattern) and qi 氣 (material force). Again, while these details are crucial to our understanding of Zhu’s own perspective in its full complexity, I will abstract from these specific details and focus on the shared human experiences underlying the idea.

2 Historical Background: Four Dimensions of the Idea of One Body 2.1 Sensitivity to Harm to Others The idea of a sensitivity to harm to others, including humans and animals, is highlighted in certain passages in the Mengzi 孟子 (Mencius). 2A.6 observes that no human is devoid of the heart/mind of being “unable to bear” (bu ren 不忍) (harm to) other humans. It gives the example of how humans would respond, if they suddenly witness an infant about to fall into a well, with the heart/mind of “being noticeably and fearfully moved” and of “being pained” (chu ti ce yin zhi xin 怵惕惻隱之心). It presents the heart/mind of “being pained” (ce yin zhi xin 惻隱之心) as the germ of humaneness (ren 仁), urging people to fully develop such a heart/mind, and 6A.6 also relates the heart/mind of “being pained” to humaneness. In 1A.7, Mencius reminds King Xuan of Qi 齊宣王of an incident in which the king saw an ox being led to be used for consecrating a new bell. The king was “unable to bear” (bu ren 不 忍) its shrinking with fear, like an innocent person going to its place of death. Subsequently, Mencius describes the king as “being pained” (yin 隱) by an animal going without guilt to its place of death, and remarks that the superior person relates to animals in such a way that, having seen an animal alive, he “cannot bear” (bu ren)

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to see it die, and having heard its cries, he “cannot bear” (bu ren) to eat its flesh. Finally, in 7B.31, after commenting that all humans have things that they “cannot bear” (bu ren), Mencius goes on to urge people to develop their heart/mind of not wanting to harm others. Since Zhu Xi’s understanding of the idea of one body draws on these Mencian ideas, we will examine in detail the nature of the responses presented by Mencius using the terms, for which I have provided tentative translations that reflect the analysis that follows: chu ti 怵惕 (“being noticeably and fearfully moved”), ce yin 惻隱 and yin 隱 (“being pained”), and bu ren 不忍 (“unable to bear,” “cannot bear”). Chu 怵 is used in texts up to early Han mostly in the sense of the heart/mind’s being moved in some noticeable manner. For example, the Liji 禮記 (Record of Rites) describes sacrifice as involving the heart/mind’s being moved (chu 怵) in a way that is given expression by the rituals (xin chu er feng zhi yi li 心怵而奉之以 禮) (Liji 1965: 14.18a). The Guanzi 管子 describes how someone moved by (chu 怵) what one likes would cease attending to (wang 忘) what one dislikes (chu yu hao, ze wang qi so wu 怵於好, 則忘其所惡); it is when one is not so moved that one’s desires do not exceed the way they genuinely are (bu chu hu hao … yu bu guo qi qing 不怵乎好⋯⋯欲不過其情) (Guanzi 1965: 13.5a). The Huainanzi 淮南子 describes how, when the sage is confronted with tempting enjoyments, these are not sufficient to cause his heart/mind to be moved (chu 怵) in a way that leads him to deviate from his genuine nature (bu zu yi … shi xin chu ran shi qi qing xing 不足以 ⋯⋯使心怵然失其情性) (Huainanzi 1965: 1.15a). In another context, it describes how, when confronted with various enjoyments, someone other than a sage would be moved (chu 怵) in a tempted and aspiring way (chu ran ruo you suo you mu 怵 然若有所誘慕), and when the enjoyments are removed, the heart/mind would feel a sense of loss (Huainanzi 1965: 1.13b). From these examples, we see that chu 怵 has to do with the heart/mind’s being moved in some noticeable manner. When so moved by certain specific objects, the objects engage one’s attention in such a way that one might cease attending to certain other things and might be drawn along by the objects. Ti 惕 is used in the Shijing 詩經 (Book of Odes) to refer to a state of the heart/ mind (xin yan ti ti 心焉惕惕) (Shijing 1986: 142/2), but the context of this occurrence or of its occurrence in the Shangshu 尚書 (Documents) (Shangshu 1985: 226) does not make clear what that state is. In other early texts, it sometimes refers to the heart/mind’s being moved in an alert manner to some troubling state of affairs. For example, the Guoyu 國語 (Discourses of the States) speaks of the disastrous consequences of the absence of ti 惕 upon seeing disorder (jian luan er bu ti 見亂而不惕) (Guoyu 1965: 3.7b), the Huainanzi uses the term to describe the response of Wu Qi 吳起 upon hearing that disaster is coming his way (wu qi ti ran 吳起惕然) (Huainanzi 1965: 12.10a), and the Lüshichunqiu 呂氏春秋 (Annals of Lü Buwei) describes how Duke Zhuang of Qi 齊莊公 woke up in a state of ti 惕 after having a dream in which he was disgraced (ti ran er wu 惕然而寤) (Lüshichunqiu 1988: 19.4b). Sometimes, it refers to an alert and attentive state of the heart/mind that need not be directed to any specific troubling state of affairs. For example, the Zuozhuan 左傳 (Zuo’s Commentary on the Spring and Autumn Annals) speaks of how one is

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in a state of ti 惕 on a daily basis, not for a moment daring to not keep in mind one’s official duties (wu ri bu ti, qi gan wang zhi 無日不惕, 豈敢忘職) (Zuozhuan 1965: 16.22b), and how one is not ti 惕 in response to another party’s power and prestige (bu wei wei ti 不為威惕) (Zuozhuan 1965: 30.12a). The Annals of Lü Buwei speaks of how, when confronting a worthy person whose way is subtle and difficult to grasp, one has to be in a state of ti 惕 as otherwise one cannot genuinely understand the worthy (bu ti yu xin, ze zhi zhi bu shen 不惕於心, 則知之不深) (Lüshichunqiu 1988: 13.17a). So, ti 惕 has to do with an alert and attentive state of the heart/mind; even when not directed to a specifically troubling state of affairs, it still involves one’s being alert and on guard against things going amiss, such as omission of one’s duties, what some party with power and prestige might do to oneself, or failing to appreciate the way of the worthies. This analysis is corroborated by the fact that ti 惕 is often used in conjunction with other terms that have to do with alertness and attention: kong 恐, ju 懼 and at times jie 戒. For example, it is used in parallel to kong 恐 (Guoyu 1965: 18.10b) and ju 懼 (Zuozhuan 1965: 27.18a) and in the combination ti ju 惕懼 (Lüshichunqiu 1988: 15.2a) and kong ju zhen dong ti li 恐懼振動惕慄 (Mozi 1975: 53). The combination chu ti 怵惕 is used in the Guoyu in parallel to ju 懼 (you yue chu ti, ju yuan zhi lei ye 猶曰怵惕, 懼怨之來也) (Guoyu 1965: 1.6a) and to jie ju 戒懼 (wei wei chu ti, bao ren jie ju 亹亹怵惕, 保任戒懼) (Guoyu 1965: 1.14a). The three terms kong 恐, ju 懼, and jie 戒 have different connotations. Jie 戒 is directed toward undesirable occurrences that are already conspicuous, either having already occurred, or is imminent or likely. For example, it describes one’s response to the presence of powerful enemies (Hanfeizi 1965: 1.4b) and to dangers associated with various stages of life (Lunyu 16.7). Kong 恐 is used to emphasize the possibility of certain undesirable occurrences, though such occurrences are by comparison to objects of jie more distant in that they are just possible but not yet imminent or likely. For example, it describes one’s attitude toward possible occurrences such as: losing what one has learnt (Lunyu 8.17), disgracing one’s ancestors (Xiaojing 1965: 8.1b), one’s incompetence (Xunzi 1965: 19.3a), or the honest village person being mistaken for the virtuous (Mengzi 7B.37). Ju 懼 is sometimes used in the sense of fear (e.g., Mengzi 2A.2), but can also describe one’s attitude toward possible undesirable occurrences that one is consciously aware of, such as the aging of parents (Lunyu 4.21). When these are alterable, one would seek to pre-empt the undesirable occurrence, such as by cautiously avoiding incorrectness in deliberating about what is correct (Xunzi 1965: 15.10a), by consciously staying away from disgrace (Xunzi 1965: 1.12b), or by being very careful in approaching affairs (Lunyu 7.11). The linkage of ti 惕 to these terms shows that it has to do with a state of the heart/mind that involves alertness, focus of attention, and the avoidance of undesirable occurrences, whether pre-emptively or in response to imminent or actual occurrences. For convenience, we might refer to this as a state of fearfulness. Thus, the combination chu ti 怵惕 describes a state in which the heart/mind is moved in some noticeable way that engages one’s attention. This can be a general state of alertness, focus of attention, and being on guard pre-emptively against

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undesirable occurrences. When directed toward a specific situation such as the infant about to fall into a well, it involves one’s focusing attention on that situation and being moved cautiously and fearfully to prevent what is imminent. Turning to ce yin 惻隱, it likely refers to a painful or sorrowful state of the heart/ mind, though there are relatively fewer occurrences of ce 惻 and yin 隱 (used in the relevant sense) in early texts to enable us to provide a more detailed analysis. Ce 惻 occurs in the Liji in the context of mourning and in conjunction with other terms that show that it has to do with a painful or sorrowful state of the heart/mind (ce da zhi xin, tong ji zhi yi 惻怛之心, 痛疾之意) (Liji 1965: 18.5b–6a). Yin 隱, in addition to its frequent uses in the sense of “to hide” or “to cover,” is also used to refer to a painful or sorrowful state. The Guoyu describes how King Wu led an expedition to relieve the painful or sorrowful state of the people (min yin 民隱) (Guoyu 1965: 1.3a), while the Liji uses the term to describe the most painful or sorrowful form of grief (ai qi zhi zhi yin 哀戚之至隱) (Liji 1965: 3.3b). There are a few occurrences of yin that could have been used in this sense, but could also be used in the sense of what is hidden or inconspicuous, as in the combination yin you 隱憂 (Shijing 1986: 26/1) or yin ji 隱疾 (Liji 1965: 1.10a). Yin 隱, when used to refer to a painful or sorrowful state of the hear/mind, can be directed to a specific situation, as when Mencius describes King Xuan as being in that state in response to a situation involving an animal going without guilt to its place of death (yin qi wu zui er jiu si di 隱 其無罪而就死地) (Mengzi 1A.7). Commenting on Mengzi 2A.6, Zhu Xi suggests that chu ti 怵惕 concerns one’s being moved and shocked by an occurrence, ce 惻 one’s being deeply hurt, and yin 隱 the deep pain one feels (chu ti jing dong mao, ce shang zhi qie ye, yin tong zhi shen ye 怵惕驚動貌, 惻傷之切也, 隱痛之深也) (Zhu 2002b: 2.13b). Elsewhere, he also relates yin 隱 to pain (tong 痛) (Zhu 1986: 1297) and does not object to the suggestion that chu ti 怵惕 comes before ce yin 惻隱 (Zhu 1986: 1281). What he presents is a possible account that fits in with our analysis. That is, upon suddenly seeing an infant about to fall into a well, one’s heart/mind is noticeably moved (chu 怵) and one’s attention is directed to an imminent undesirable occurrence that one is moved to prevent, cautiously and fearfully (ti 惕). At the same time, one’s own heart/mind is itself hurt, that is, affected in a negative manner (ce 惻), so that one feels pain or sorrow (yin 隱) at the situation that triggers this chain of responses. Turning to bu ren 不忍, it can be directed to a situation that is negatively viewed. For example, in relation to burials, the Liji describes how one cannot bear (bu ren 不 忍, fu ren 弗忍) the departed being without a resting place for even a single day (Liji 1965: 3.5a). It can also be directed to a course of action that one cannot bring oneself to undertake—the expression bu ren wei 不忍為 occurs frequently in early texts (e.g., Lüshichunqiu 1988: 19.6b), and there are frequent references to specific actions that one cannot bring oneself to undertake, such as the inability of Bo Yi 伯 夷 to allow himself to hold a position in a corrupt government (bu ren ju 不忍居) (Mengzi 5B.1) or the superior person’s being unable to bring himself to do wrong (bu ren wei fei 不忍為非) (Huainanzi 1965: 10.9b). Presumably, what one cannot bring oneself to do involves bringing about a situation that one finds unacceptable or unpleasant. For example, commenting on why it is proper to bury the deceased,

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the Annals of Lü Buwei observes how it is characteristic of humans that they cannot bear (bu ren 不忍) to just disposed of the bodies of a deceased parent in the gullies (Lüshichunqiu 1988: 10.5a). This comment relates in an obvious way to the hypothetical story in the Mengzi about how, in ancient times, having disposed of dead bodies of parents in the gullies, people responded in a horrified manner upon seeing the bodies being eaten by foxes and sucked by flies (Mengzi 3A.5). Thus, what one cannot bear to do often involves bringing about a situation that one finds unbearable. Conversely, when one is in a situation that one finds unbearable, it can lead one to act in certain ways. For example, finding one’s anger unbearable can lead to all kinds of action, often unwise. Early texts describe various examples of the disastrous consequences of one’s not being able to bear anger that is directed to matters of minor significance (bu ren xiao fen 不忍小忿) (e.g., Guoyu 1965: 2.3b, 5.6a). In these instances, what one cannot bear is a state of one’s own heart/mind. Such a state can also be a matter of one’s own pain (bu ren tong 不忍痛) (Hanfeizi 1965: 8.8a), or one’s sense of suffering. For example, the Guoyu describes how the people cannot bear being oppressed by the late Shang king (shu min bu ren 庶民不忍) and how King Wu, through his military expeditions, relieved the painful or sorrowful state of the people (min yin 民隱) (Guoyu 1965: 1.3a). In this example, what the people cannot bear is presented as the situation of their being oppressed by the late Shang king, unlike the other examples in which what one cannot bear is presented as one’s own state, such as anger (fen 忿) or pain (tong 痛). But their being oppressed is also presented as bringing about a painful or sorrowful state of the heart/mind (yin 隱). Presumably, while the term bu ren can take as its object a situation or an action, in addition to one’s own state such as anger (fen 忿) or pain (tong 痛), one’s finding the situation or action unbearable is connected with a painful or sorrowful state of one’s own heart/mind that the situation, or the situation brought about by the proposed action, brings about. In the examples just considered, what causes one anger (fen 忿) or pain (tong 痛) is something that happens to oneself, and the situation that causes the people pain or sorrow (yin 隱) is their being oppressed. By contrast, the Mengzi passages that we considered have to do with a painful or sorrowful state of one’s heart/mind that results from what happens to others —an infant about to fall into a well, or an ox being led to be killed. In 1A.7, King Xuan describes his response as being unable to bear the ox’s shrinking with fear, like an innocent person going to its place of death (bu ren qi hu su, ruo wu zui er jiu si di 不忍其觳觫, 若無罪而就死地). And Mencius subsequently describes the king’s response in terms of his being pained by the animal going without guilt to its place of death (yin qi wu zui er jiu si di 隱其無 罪而就死地). In these descriptions, both terms bu ren 不忍 and yin 隱 take as their object a certain situation. In addition, in the same passage, the term bu ren takes as its object one’s witnessing a certain situation, such as seeing an animal (which one has seen alive) die (bu ren jian qi si 不忍見其死) or one’s doing certain things, such as eating the flesh of an animal (whose cries one has heard) (bu ren shi qi rou 不忍 食其肉). In another passage 7B.31, after commenting that all humans have things that they cannot bear (ren jie you suo bu ren 人皆有所不忍), Mencius goes on to talk about the heart/mind of not wanting to harm others (wu yu hai ren zhi xin 無欲

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害人之心), with the implication that what humans cannot bear is the harming of others. Thus, while the term yin 隱 takes a situation as object, the term bu ren 不忍 can take a certain situation, one’s witnessing a certain situation, or one’s action which brings about a certain situation, as object, the situation in each instance being one that brings about a painful, sorrowful, or in other ways unpleasant response in one’s heart/mind. And in these examples, the situation at issue involves some harm, including death, coming to parties other than oneself. We saw earlier that bu ren 不 忍 can be directed to one’s own unpleasant state due to something that happens to oneself, such as one’s anger (fen 忿) or pain (tong 痛). There is no clear instance in pre-Han texts of bu ren being directed to one’s own painful or sorrowful state that is due to some harm or potential harm coming to others. But we do find such uses of the term in Han texts. For example, in the Xinshu 新書 of Jia Yi 賈誼 (200–168 BCE), while commenting on Mengzi 1A.7, bu ren 不忍 is used in a way that takes as its object not just the situation (bu ren qi si 不忍其死) (Jia 1965: 5.4b) or one’s witnessing the situation (bu ren jian qi si 不忍見其死) (Jia 1965: 6.3a), but also the painful or sorrowful state that is due to one’s witnessing the situation (yin fu ren ye 隱弗忍也) (Jia 1965: 6.3a). Early texts contain several examples of one’s being unable to bear (bu ren) situations or actions involving harm to others, such as a general’s being unable to bear killing a prince (Guoyu 1965: 8.1b). At times, they highlight how such a response, when it leads to one’s refraining from certain acts, can generate a potential conflict with one’s official duties or with what is prescribed by law. Examples include being unable to bear bringing one’s father, who has committed a murder, to justice (Lüshichunqiu 1988: 19.7b–8a), being unable to bear causing death to a person or animal thereby resulting in defiance of an order (Hanfeizi 1965: 7.9b–10a), or being unable to bear imposing punishment on the guilty thereby undermining what is required by law (e.g., Guanzi 1965: 10.14a). Mengzi 1A.7 itself describes a potential conflict between sparing the ox and the ritual practice of using an animal’s blood to consecrate a new bell, one that the king resolved by substituting a lamb that he has not seen. To summarize, the terms we have examined are used to describe one’s responses to actual, imminent, or anticipated situations that involve harm to others, including humans and animals. They involve the heart/mind’s being noticeably moved (chu 怵) by the situation, in such a way that one’s attention is focused on the situation and one cautiously and fearfully seeks to prevent or remedy it (ti 惕). Furthermore, one’s own heart/mind is negatively affected by the situation (ce 惻) resulting in a painful or sorrowful state (yin 隱). The responses also involve one’s being unable to bear (bu ren 不忍) the situation, one’s witnessing the situation, the resulting pain or sorrow in one’s heart/mind, or one’s action which potentially brings about or fails to prevent such a situation. These responses can move one to act to alleviate the actual harm or prevent the potential harm, or to refrain from acting in a way that brings harm to others. What the Mengzi highlights is that humans have such a sensitivity to harm not just to oneself, but to others in certain contexts, and it urges people to develop this

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sensitivity so that it applies generally to all humans, going beyond the specific contexts. In Sect. 3.2, we will consider how Zhu Xi takes up this Mencian idea and relates it to the way Cheng Hao comments on the idea of one body. In Sect. 4.1, we will consider how to make sense of the idea of no self in this connection, drawing on two points in particular in the preceding discussion. The first is that the focus of these responses concerns a situation in which some object is harmed. The terms yin 隱 and bu ren 不忍 are directed to such a situation, rather than to the object that is harmed, making them syntactically different from the English expressions “sympathy” and “empathy.” The second is that, while our focus is on situations involving harm to others, these responses can also be directed to a situation in which oneself is harmed. We considered the example from the Guoyu in which the people cannot bear (shu min bu ren 庶民不忍) a situation in which they are oppressed by the late Shang king, a situation that causes them to be in a painful or sorrowful state (min yin 民隱). Here, what the people cannot bear, and feel pain or sorrow at, is a situation involving harm to themselves.

2.2 Giving Life and Nourishing Another theme in early texts that bears on Zhu Xi’s understanding of the idea of one body is that, just as Heaven and Earth gives life to and nourishes all things, the ideal ruler similarly gives life to and nourishes all humans and things. The point is put in terms of sheng 生, whose intransitive verbal use refers to the process of coming into being and growing, and whose transitive verbal use refers to the process of giving life to and furthering life in, viz. nourishing, an object. Early texts present Heaven, or Heaven and Earth, as giving life to and nourishing the ten thousand things, and regard sage kings as similarly related to the people and to things. For example, the Yijing 易經 (Book of Change) presents Heaven and Earth as giving life to the ten thousand things (Yijing 1965: 9.4b; cf. Yijing 9.6a) as well as nourishing (yang 養) them (Yijing 1965: 3.8a). At the same time, it presents the ancient kings as nurturing (yu 育) the ten thousand things (Yijing 1965: 3.6a) and the sages as nourishing worthies so as to reach the myriads of people (Yijing 1965: 3.8a). The effects of the sages extend to the heart/mind of humans—just as Heaven and Earth affects the ten thousand things to transform and give life to them, the sages affect the heart/mind of humans to bring harmony and peace to all under Heaven (tian di gan er wan wu hua sheng, sheng ren gan ren xin er tian xia he ping 天地感而萬物化生, 聖人感人 心而天下和平) (Yijing 1965: 4.1a). When the sages persevere in their course, all under Heaven will be transformed and brought to completion (tian xia hua cheng 天 下化成) (Yijing 1965: 4.2a–2b). This view of Heaven and Earth is found in other early texts (e.g., Xunzi 1965: 13.10a) and is generally shared in early Chinese thought. The idea that the role of the ideal ruler is to give life to the people (sheng min 生民), in the sense of both attending to their livelihood and guiding them, is also pervasive. For example, the Zuozhuan comments on how Heaven, having given life to the people (sheng min 生

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民), establishes a ruler to benefit them, and so the main task of the ruler is to nourish the people (yang min 養民) (Zuozhuan 1965: 9.6a). The way to nourish the people is to gear governmental affairs toward enriching their livelihood (Zuozhuan 1965: 8.14b) as well as to properly guide (si mu 司牧) them (Zuozhuan 1965: 15.23a). Likewise, the Guoyu describes virtue and propriety (de yi 德義) as the basis for giving life to and nourishing the people (Guoyu 1965: 10.17b), while the Liji also emphasizes the way to give life to and nourish the people (sheng min zhi dao 生民 之道) (Liji 1965: 11.16b). The Xunzi comments on how Heaven establishes the ruler for the sake of the people and not vice versa (Xunzi 1965: 19.9b), and presents giving life to and nourishing the people as the main task of the sage kings (Xunzi 1965: 12.10a) and the main purpose of governmental affairs (Xunzi 1965: 6.3a). The Yijing (Yijing 1965: 7.3b–4a) highlights the idea of continuously giving life and nourishing, or sheng 生生, an idea that gains prominence in Song–Ming Confucian thought. Zhu Xi and other early Song Confucians expand the scope of the idea, taking the process to characterize the ideal relation between each human and all other humans and things—each human should be engaged in the process of continuously giving life to and nourishing all humans and things. On this view, humans should ideally perform the function that Heaven and Earth performs, and so humans can be described as “the heart/mind of Heaven and Earth” (ren zhe, tian di zhi xin ye 人者, 天地之心也), an idea that comes from the Liji (Liji 1965: 7.8a–8b) with the idea of “the heart/mind of Heaven and Earth” also highlighted in the Yijing (Yijing 1965: 3.4b). This view constitutes the second dimension to Zhu’s understanding of the idea of one body, and it complements the first dimension in that they both have to do with a concern for the well-being of other humans and things—the first has to do with a sensitivity to anything detrimental to, and the second a dedication to promoting, their well-being. And these two dimensions come together in the relationship between parents and children—parents give life to and nourish their children, and are at the same time sensitive in an intimate manner to any harm to their children. Zhu Xi and other early Song Confucians develop this point further, idealizing a state in which each human relates to other humans in a way like one’s relation to close family members, both promoting their well-being and being sensitive to harm to them. This constitutes the third dimension of Zhu’s understanding of the idea of one body.

2.3 The Human Community and Family Relationships The “Kang Gao 康誥” chapter of the Shangshu (Shangshu 1985: 389) comments on how the ruler should ideally protect the people as if they were newborn infants (ruo bao chi zi 若保赤子), and this idea is generally endorsed by early Confucians. For example, in the Mengzi, the Moist Yi Zhi 夷之 presents this as “the way of the Confucians” (Mengzi 3A.5), and a modified saying (ru bao chi zi 如保赤子) is cited in the Daxue (Great Learning) (Liji 1965: 19.12a) as well as the Xunzi (Xunzi 1965:

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7.13a). In this context, the Xunzi observes how the people will treat such a ruler as if he were their parent (Xunzi 1965: 7.13a; cf. 7.10b), and other texts similarly comment on this reciprocal relation—if the ruler treats the people as his children, he would also gain their allegiance (e.g., Zuozhuan 1965: 15.23a, 20.22b, 30.12b; Mengzi 2A.5; Xunzi 1965: 5.11b, 6.4b, 6.8b, 10.3a, 11.1b). More often, though, the emphasis is on how the ruler should treat the people as such, a relationship modeled on the relation between Heaven and the ten thousand things. The Shijing describes Heaven as parent (Shijing 1986: 198/1), and having similarly described Heaven and Earth as parent of the ten thousand things, the Shangshu goes on to describe the ruler as parent of the people (Shangshu 1985: 283), a description found elsewhere in both texts (Shijing 1986: 172/3, 251/1; Shangshu 1985: 333). The Zuozhuan observes how the ideal ruler nourishes his people like his children, covering them like Heaven and accommodating them like Earth (yang min ru zi, gai zhi ru tian, rong zhi ru di 養民如子, 蓋之如天, 容之如地) (Zuozhuan 1965: 15.23a). The Mengzi comments on what it is for the ruler to act as parent of the people (Mengzi 1B.7) or to fail to so act (Mengzi 1A.4), and the Liji (Liji 1965: 15.11a–11b, 17.6a), including the Daxue chapter (Liji 1965: 19.13a), does likewise. The Xunzi elaborates on what practicing this idea involves, such as being moderate in assigning tasks to the people and doing so in accordance with their needs and circumstances, as well as covering and nourishing them (jian fu zhi, yang zhang zhi 兼覆之, 養長之) (Xunzi 1965: 6.9a, cf. 10.11b). It also adds that, as parent of his people, the role of the ruler is not just to look after their livelihood but also to educate and counsel (jiao hui 教誨) them (Xunzi 1965: 13.14a), and this educational role is also highlighted in other texts (e.g., Liji 1965: 17.6a; Lüshichunqiu 1988: 18.23a).1 This emphasis on the way parents nourish their children continues to be highlighted in Han texts. For example, in the Shuoyuan 說苑 of Liu Xiang 劉向 (77–76 BCE), the idea that the sages treat the people as if they were newborn infants is explained in terms of how they nourish the people—the sages would feed them when they are hungry, give them clothing when they are cold, and nourish them so that they will grow, for fear that they might not attain adulthood (Liu 1965: 5.1a). At the same time, some early texts also comment on the parents’ sensitivity to the conditions of their children, showing that the parent–children relationship links up with both of the two dimensions previously discussed. For example, the Lüshichunqiu remarks that parents and children are related like a single body divided into two (yi ti er liang fen 一體而兩分). It is for this reason that, even when in separate locations, the two parties break through to and link up with each other (yi chu er xiang tong 異處而相通) so that they would come to the aid of each other when in pain and suffering (tong ji xiang jiu 痛疾相救), share each other’s worries and longings (you 1  Legalist oriented texts such as the Hanfeizi similarly describes the ruler as parent (Hanfeizi 1965: 11.12b–13a), but adds that, as the love of parents is not sufficient for this educational function, there is need for law and punishment to bring people to order (Hanfeizi 1965: 19.3a–4a). Interestingly, given this role of the institution of law, the Guanzi even describes such institution as parent of the people (Guanzi 1965: 6.3b).

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si xiang gan 憂思相感), as well as take joy or sorrow in each other’s life or death (Lüshichunqiu 1988: 9.17b). While early texts invoke the parent–children relationship largely in the context of commenting on the way the ruler relates to his people, that relationship is mentioned in a broader context in two ways in the Han Dynasty. First, the relationship between humans in general comes to be viewed on the model of a family. That the ideal ruler relates to the people as parent to children has the corollary that all humans are related as part of one family, a corollary explicitly stated in the Liji which observes that the sages view “all under Heaven” as one family (yi tian xia wei yi jia 以天下為一家) (Liji 1965: 7.7a). It also follows that each person should ideally view the ruler as parent and others as blood relatives, a point explicitly stated in the Qianfulun 潛夫論 (Discourses by a Hermit) of Wang Fu 王符 (first to second century). According to Wang Fu, the worthy and superior person loves his ruler as if the ruler were his parent, and the people as if they were his children and younger brothers—he would be concerned about dangers that his ruler confronts as he would his own parents, and sorrowful over the miseries of the people as he would his own children and younger brothers (Wang Fu 1965: 7.7b). Second, the parent–children relationship also becomes a model for the ideal relation between a local official and people directly under his care. In early texts, there is occasional reference to a high ranking official in the central government as parent to the people. For example, in the Guanzi, Guan Zhong 管仲 (eighth to seventh century BCE), by virtue of his accomplishments, is described as parent of the people (Guanzi 1965: 8.3b). In Han, two prefecture chiefs of Nanyang 南陽, Zhao Xinchen 召信臣 (active around first century BCE) and later Du Shi 杜詩 (first century BCE to 38 CE), were honored by the people of Nanyang for their efforts on behalf of the people with, respectively, the titles of Father Zhao (zhao fu 召父) (Ban 2002: 28b.35b, 89.18b–19a) and Mother Du (du mu 杜母) (Fan Ye 2002: 106.2a; Yao 2002: 14.2a). This subsequently resulted in a common saying among the people of Nanyang that they had Father Zhao who came earlier and then Mother Du who came later (Fan Ye 2002: 61.4b; Yao 2002: 9.11b). Over time, a local official who is close to and cares for the people as if they were his children came to be referred to as an official who performs the role of a parent, or fu mu guan 父母官, an expression that was used no later than the beginning of the Song Dynasty and that subsequently became idiomatic. For example, Wang Yucheng 王禹偁 (954–1001) used the expression in a poem in his Xiaoxuji 小畜集 (Wang Yucheng 2002: 11.19b–20a), while Wei Ye 魏野 (960–1019) similarly used the expression in his Dongguanji 東 觀集 (Wei 2002: 8.1a–1b). In addition to giving life to and nourishing their children, as well as being sensitive to their conditions, parents also feel a sense of responsibility and accountability to look after their well-being. They would devote attention, energy and efforts to the betterment of their children, and would feel accountable should their children suffer harm or fail to fully flourish as a result of their negligence. In this way, the parent– children relationship also illustrates the fourth dimension of the idea of one body— a sense of mission and accountability.

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2.4 A Sense of Mission and Accountability This fourth theme is conveyed in early texts through observations about how certain idealized individuals take “all under Heaven” as their concern (you 憂) or mission (ren 任) in life. In the Mengzi, Mencius urges King Xuan of Qi to take contentment in the contentment of the people (le min zhi le 樂民之樂) and to be concerned with their concerns (you min zhi you 憂民之憂); it is through taking “all under Heaven” as one’s contentment and concern (le yi tian xia, you yi tian xia 樂以天下, 憂以天 下) that one becomes a true king (Mengzi 1B.4). The Annals of Lü Buwei characterizes the ideal ruler as one concerned with the benefit of the people (you min zhi li 憂 民之利) (Lüshichunqiu 1988: 21.11b), while the Huainanzi describes five legendary sages as being concerned about the people (you min 憂民) (Huainanzi 1965: 19.2b). The Mengzi likewise presents legends about Yao 堯 and Shun 舜 as well as Yu 禹 and Hou Ji 后稷, commenting on the way in which these sages are concerned about the people (you min 憂民) (Mengzi 3A.4). Yu, in his dedication to regulating the waters to prevent flooding, passed by his home on three occasions without entering; his sense of accountability is so deep that he viewed those who drowned through flooding as if he himself had drowned them. Likewise, Hou Ji dedicated himself to teaching agriculture to the people, and viewed those who starved from shortage of food as if he himself had starved them (Mengzi 3A.4, 4B.29). In both instances, though acting only as an official, each takes “all under Heaven” as his central mission in life. The Mengzi similarly describes the way Yi Yin 伊尹 served in office. He saw his task as one of making his prince like Yao and Shun, so that the people can benefit like subjects of Yao and Shun. Having attained understanding and been awakened himself, he saw his task as one of awakening those not yet with understanding nor awakened. Again, his sense of accountability is so deep that he viewed those not subject to the benefits of the rule of a Yao or Shun as if he himself had pushed them into the gutter. This is how profoundly he takes “all under Heaven” as his mission in life (zi ren yi tian xia zhi zhong 自任以天下之重) (Mengzi 5A.7, 5B.1). Here, the term ren 任 can refer to a task that one has been assigned (ren ren 人任) (e.g., Lunyu 17.6) or taken up on one’s own (zi ren 自任). One can be up to the task (sheng qi ren 勝其任) or not (e.g., Mengzi 1B.9), and the task can be huge (da ren 大任) (e.g. Mengzi 6B.15) or heavy (ren zhong 任重) (e.g., Lunyu 8.7) as opposed to light (zi ren zhe qing 自任者輕) (Mengzi 7B.32). It is so heavy in the case of Yi Yin that, like Yu and Hou Ji, he saw himself as being accountable for any instance in which his accomplishment failed to reach anyone. These three individuals all demonstrated a deep sense of mission in that they were fully dedicated to benefitting the human community in certain specific ways, and a sense of accountability should the benefit fail to reach broadly. While these examples involve appointed officials, this sense of mission and accountability can extend to those not in office. In response to the criticism that he is fond of disputation, Mencius cites the examples of Yu’s efforts to regulate the waters and the Duke of Zhou’s efforts to assist King Wu in overthrowing the late

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Shang king and driving away the wild beasts that are devouring the people. According to him, Confucius noted the decline of the Way and the profound disorder of his times, to the point of officials and sons murdering their rulers and fathers, and so composed the Chunqiu 春秋 (Spring and Autumn Annals) to set straight these disorderly individuals. Mencius sees himself as similarly driven. The teachings of Mo Di 墨翟 (fifth century BCE) and Yang Zhu 楊朱 (fifth to fourth century BCE) are, in his own times, undermining the family and state and bringing disastrous consequences comparable to wild beasts devouring humans. His own disputations serve to correct this situation and are continuous with the efforts of these three former sages. Thus, from Mencius’ perspective, he himself is also driven by a deep sense of mission and accountability in his own specific ways (Mengzi 3B.9). Such a sense of mission and accountability continues to be portrayed vividly in Han texts. Liu Xiang comments on how the humane person, being moved by a painful and sorrowful state from within (ce yin yu zhong 惻隱於中), governs as if he were desperately trying to save those who are drowning, being unable to bear (bu ren qi ran 不忍其然) the strong bullying the weak, the many doing violence to the few, the young being orphaned, as well as other miserable states of existence (Liu 1965: 5.1b). The reference to the rescue of those drowning echoes Yu’s sense of mission, which is linked here to a sensitivity to the conditions of others that is conveyed through the terms ce yin 惻隱 and bu ren 不忍. Wang Fu describes the worthy and superior person as having a deep concern for the people (you min 憂民) (Wang F. 1965: 7.8a); this point is related to his other observation, noted earlier, that such a person loves and is concerned about the people as if they were his children and younger brothers. These examples show how the fourth dimension of the idea of one body is connected with the other three in that it has to do with a sense of mission to nourish others and a sensitivity to their conditions that is coupled with a sense of accountability, these being modeled on the way one relates to members of one’s own family. In the Tang Dynasty, the “scholar,” or shi 士, which includes scholar-officials and aspiring scholar-officials, are again portrayed in similar terms. Li Ao 李翱 (772–841) observes how the “scholar” who seriously dedicates himself to learning about antiquity and to understanding the Way would share the concerns and contentment of the common people and would not venture to restrict the scope of his heart/mind to himself (gu yu fu tian xia bai xing tong you le, er bu gan du si qi xin ye 固與夫天下 百姓同憂樂, 而不敢獨私其心也), adding that this is something that he Li Ao devotes himself to without lapse (Li 2002: 8.8a–8b). Similarly, Han Yu 韓愈 (768–824) describes the “scholar” as having a heart/mind that is deeply concerned about “all under Heaven” (you tian xia zhi xin 憂天下之心), so that although he might withdraw himself into the mountains and forests when unable to be effective in government, he could not be contented with this, again adding that he Han Yu shares such aspirations (Han 2002b: 16.11a–11b; 2002a: 16.10b–11a). Thus, by the Tang Dynasty, all scholar-officials and aspiring scholar officials are supposed to share the deep sense of mission and accountability depicted in early texts through the works of the legendary sages.

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In early Song, this sense of mission and accountability is given memorable expression by Fan Zhongyan 范仲淹 (989–1052) in his short essay Memorial to Yueyang Tower (Yueyanglou Ji 岳陽樓記). Here, he comments that the humane people of ancient times have such a heart/mind that—put in a well-known saying of his—their concerns and worries come before the concerns and worries of the world, while their delights and contentment come after the delights and contentment of the world (xian tian xia zhi you er you, hou tian xia zhi le er le 先天下之憂而憂, 後天 下之樂而樂). When these individuals reside in high office, they are concerned and worried about the common people, and when they reside in seclusion far away from court, they are concerned and worried about the ruler. They have such a deep sense of concern whether in office or in withdrawal, and they feel delight and contentment only when “all under Heaven” are in delight and contentment. This is a depiction of Fan’s own sentiments, and he ends the essay with the rhetorical question about whom, in the absence of these humane individuals of ancient times, he could have as his companion (Fan Zhongyan 2002b: 7.4b–5b). Fan’s sentiments are reflected in his actual life, and his well-known saying has inspired generations of youths up to modern times. The sentiments are also reflected in his comments on other officials whom he describes as taking “all under Heaven” as their deep concern (yi tian xia wei you 以天下為憂) (e.g., Fan Zhongyan 2002b: 12.22b), and in his idealizing officials who have a heart/mind that is deeply concerned about “all under Heaven” (you tian xia zhi xin 憂天下之心) (Fan Zhongyan 2002b: 5.19b, 7.3a, 8.31b), noting that Han Yu also describes himself in such terms (Fan Zhongyan 2002b: 8.27b). He himself is often commended, in biographies of and memorials to him, as an individual particularly outstanding in his broad and far-reaching aspirations. Citing his well-known saying, his biography also describes him as someone who takes “all under Heaven” as his mission in life (yi tian xia wei ji ren 以天下為己任) and who sets his heart/mind on working for “all under Heaven” (you zhi yu tian xia 有志於天下) without being affected in the slightest way by the external conditions of his life (Fan Zhongyan 2002b: [Supplement] 2.22a–23a). Various commentators describe him in a similar fashion (e.g., Fan Zhongyan 2002b: [Supplement] 3.27a, 5.2a; 2002a: [Abstract] 2a), with one memorial noting that he already regarded “all under Heaven” as his mission in life when just starting to embark on his official career (zuo xiu cai shi ji yi tian xia wei ji ren 做秀才時即以天下為己任) (Fan Zhongyan 2002b: [Supplement] 5.2a–2b; cf. 4.9b), a point also noted by Zhu Xi (Zhu 1986: 3088).

2.5 The Idea of One Body So far, we have only mentioned one occasion on which the idea of one body occurs in early texts—the description in the Lüshichunqiu of the relation between parents and children as being like a single body divided into two (yi ti er liang fen 一體而 兩分), with emphasis on the sensitivity of one party to the conditions of the other. It is not difficult to see how the idea of forming one body with all things brings

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together the first two of the four dimensions mentioned earlier. The different parts of one’s body should ideally be connected in such a way that one is sensitive to the conditions of every part of the body, and the life giving and nourishing force within the body should ideally also reach every part. As we will see in Sect. 3.2, this is the way Cheng Hao and Cheng Yi present the idea of one body, something that Zhu Xi takes up. But the idea is not yet invoked in this manner in early texts. It is not used to describe the relation between humans generally, nor—except for the one instance in Annals of Lü Buwei—to emphasize the two dimensions just mentioned. Instead, it is invoked mostly to describe the relation between those above and those below in the governmental hierarchy, emphasizing how, under ideal conditions, the two parties would act and respond as a unified whole. For example, the Liji describes how, ideally, the people would take the ruler as their heart/mind and the ruler would take the people as his body (min yi jun wei xin, jun yi min wei ti 民以君為心, 君以 民為體) so that the condition of one party affects that of the other (Liji 1965: 17.16a). The Xunzi describes how, without his exerting effort, all under Heaven would follow the ideal ruler as if they formed one body with him (tian xia cong zhi ru yi ti 天下從之如一體) (Xunzi 1965: 8.5a). The Guanzi refers to the method of governing characterized by one body (yi ti zhi zhi 一體之治) as one in which everything acts as a unified whole (Guanzi 1965: 2.6b–7a), with those above and those below performing their respective roles (Guanzi 1965: 10.14a); the ancient kings were good at forming one body with the people (xian wang shan yu min wei yi ti 先 王善與民為一體) in that they are good at employing officials in accordance with their abilities (Guanzi 1965: 10.18a). Extending a similar observation beyond the ruler, the Huainanzi comments on how a general takes the people as his body and the people take the general as their heart/mind (jiang yi min wei ti, min yi jiang wei xin 將以民為體, 民以將為心), emphasizing how, in ideal conditions, those below would follow the general’s commands without question (Huainanzi 1965: 15.8a–8b). In the Han Dynasty, the idea continues to be used to describe how those above should relate to those below. Some thinkers continue to emphasize the point that the two parties should ideally function as a unified whole. For example, Dong Zhongshu 董仲舒 (179–104  BCE), in his Chunqiufanlu 春秋繁露 (Luxuriant Dew of the Spring and Autumn Annals), makes this point while at the same time emphasizing the educational role of the ruler. The ruler is the heart/mind of the people, and the people is his body (jun zhe, min zhi xin ye, min zhe, jun zhi ti ye 君者, 民之心也, 民 者, 君之體也), and what the heart/mind likes the body will follow and take comfort in, which is why the educational role of the ruler can transform the people (Dong 1965: 11.2a). Ideally, the ruler and his officials should function as a unified whole with the former in command (Dong 1965: 17.2a–3a). Others invoke the idea to emphasize the ruler’s sensitivity to the condition of the people. Liu Xiang notes (through the mouth of a fictionalized Mozi) how the people treat their ruler as their heart/mind, accounting for the ruler’s transformative effect on the people (Liu 1965: 20.2b). This is why the legendary sage Yao was pained and moved to tears when he came across someone convicted of a crime—the crime shows that the people have taken their own heart/minds, rather than Yao’s, as their heart/minds, showing a ­failure on the part of Yao. And this is why, citing (with modification) a line from the

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“Tang Gao 湯誥” chapter of the Shangshu, the fault always resides with the ruler whenever a crime is committed within his realm (Liu 1965: 1.3b; Shangshu 1985: 189). Xun Yue 荀悅 (148–209), in his Shenjian 申鑑 (Using History as a Mirror), notes that “all under Heaven” form one body (tian xia guo jia yi ti ye 天下國家一 體也), which is why those above would not have delight should there be people below with worries, and would be unable to take comfort in food and clothing should there be people below who are starving or suffering from the cold (Xun 1965: 1.4b). Although the idea of one body is up to the Han Dynasty invoked mostly to describe the relation between those above and those below, one important element of the idea is already highlighted, namely, that which forms one body with others relates to them as heart/mind to the physical body. This element is retained in Zhu Xi’s use of the idea of one body to describe the ideal relation of each human to other humans and things—the heart/mind of each human should ideally also be the “heart/ mind of Heaven and Earth” (tian di zhi xin 天地之心), an expression that, as we saw, derives from the Yijing and the Liji. Before his times, Li Ao, as we saw, also describes how the “scholar” should not restrict the scope of his heart/mind to himself and should share the concerns and contentment of the common people. Fan Zhongyan similarly highlights such an all-encompassing heart/mind in his Poetic Essay on Taking the Heart/Mind that Encompasses All Under Heaven as One’s Heart/Mind (Yong Tian Xia Xin Wei Xin Fu 用天下心為心賦). He urges the ruler to examine the people’s likes and dislikes as well as the correctness or incorrectness of governmental policies, and to exert efforts to eliminate miseries and prevent disasters. One should subordinate oneself to others rather than have others follow one’s own desires, and should use the heart/mind of the multitude as one’s heart/mind (yi zhong xin wei xin 以衆心為心); it is through “emptying oneself” in this way that one follows the Way (xu ji zhi wei dao 虛己之謂道) (Fan Zhongyan 2002b: 20.12a–13b). In his Poetic Essay on the Ruler’s Regarding the People as His Body (Jun Yi Min Wei Ti Fu 君以民為體賦), Fan also urges the ruler to treat the people as his body, nurturing them as if they were his children, thereby bringing the ten thousand things together in his one body (qi wan wu yu yi ti 齊萬物於一體) (Fan Zhongyan 2002b: [Other Works] 2.2a–3b). Elsewhere, he also makes the point that “all under Heaven” forms one body (tian xia yi ti 天下一體) in the context of emphasizing how the people would benefit from good governmental policies and suffer under bad policies (Fan Zhongyan 2002a: 1.25b). Though Fan’s own focus is on the ruler in these comments, a later memorial describes Fan himself in similar terms, noting how his taking “all under Heaven” as his mission in life shows that he has “all under Heaven” as his heart/mind (yi tian xia wei xin 以天下為心) (Fan Zhongyan 2002b: [Supplement] 4.9b–10a). These comments of Fan relate the idea of one body to an all-encompassing heart/mind as well as to the three dimensions that spell out the content of the idea of one body—sensitivity to the conditions of others, life giving and nourishing, and a sense of mission and accountability. His reference to “emptying oneself” and to using the heart/mind of the multitude as one’s heart/mind also hints at the idea of no self, which we will take up in Sect. 3.4.

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3 Zhu Xi: One Body and No Self 3.1 Zhu Xi and the Idea of One Body Zhu takes up the four themes presented in Sect. 2 and extends them to the relationship between each human and all other humans and things. Drawing on ideas from Zhang Zai and the Cheng brothers, he integrates these four themes in the idea of one body, and adds a fifth theme related to the idea of no self. For him, extending the kind of responses to harm to others highlighted by Mencius leads to one’s being sensitive to the conditions of all humans and things in an intimate fashion, comparable to the way one’s heart/mind is sensitive to the conditions of one’s physical body, an idea highlighted by Cheng Hao. And one’s heart/mind should bear a life giving and nourishing relation to all humans and things, and in that sense shares in the heart/mind of Heaven and Earth. This feature of the heart/mind he compares to the life giving force in the seeds of grains, taking this idea from Cheng Yi. In this sense, the scope of one’s heart/mind should ideally embrace all humans and things, with nothing external to it. This idea he draws from Zhang Zai who, in elaborating on the idea, also emphasizes the deep sense of mission and accountability that such a heart/mind bears. In addition, Zhang highlights the idea that one ideally relates to the human community in the way one relates to one’s family, an idea that Zhu also takes up. For Zhu, one body is an ideal state of the heart/mind in which one relates to other humans as one would to members of one’s own family, making efforts to nourish them and being sensitive to their conditions, in a way that engages one’s dedicated attention and efforts as well as one’s sense of responsibility and accountability. One still retains a sense of the ordinary distinction between oneself and others, and there is still a differentiation in the way one responds to their conditions or devotes efforts to working on their behalf, depending on the different relations one stands to them. But beyond this ordinary distinction between oneself and others and this differential response due to different relations, one does not see oneself as distinct from others in any significant way. This is the idea of no self, which the other three early Song Confucians already highlight, and which Zhu regards as fundamental to the state of one body. Since Zhu’s views draw heavily on these early Song Confucians, we will present their respective ideas on each of these themes before presenting Zhu’s own views. The main source of Zhang Zai’s ideas is the Zhangziquanshu 張子全書 (Complete Works of Zhang Zai). As for the Cheng brothers, when consulting the Erchengquanshu 二程全書 (Complete Works of the Cheng Brothers), I will distinguish between ideas that can be attributed to each individually and those that cannot. Attributions to Cheng Hao are given by his names or title, as Mingdao 明道, Bochun 伯淳, Ming 明 or Zongcheng 宗承, and to Cheng Yi as Yichuan 伊川, Zhengshu 正叔, Zheng 正 or Shijiang 侍講. Of the works included in the Complete Works of the Cheng Brothers, chapters 1–5 of Erchengwenji 二程文集 (Essays of the Cheng Brothers) and chapters 11–14 of Erchengyishu 二程遺書 (Surviving Works of the Cheng Brothers) can be attributed to Cheng Hao, while chapters 6–13 of Essays of the

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Cheng Brothers, chapters 15–25 of Surviving Works of the Cheng Brothers, and the Yichuanyizhuan 伊川易傳 (Cheng Yi’s Commentary on the Book of Change) can be attributed to Cheng Yi. Some sayings in chapters 1–10 of the Surviving Works of the Cheng Brothers are specifically attributed to Cheng Hao (as Ming 明 or Zongcheng 宗承) or Cheng Yi (as Zheng 正 or Shijiang 侍講), while parts of Chengshijingshuo 程氏經說 (The Cheng Brothers’ Explication of the Classics) can also be individually attributed, such as the two versions of the Daxue attributed to each separately, or the discourse on the Yizhuan 易傳 likely attributable to Cheng Yi. The remaining parts of the Surviving Works of the Cheng Brothers and The Cheng Brothers’ Explication of the Classics, as well as two other works Erchengwaishu 二程外書 (Other Works of the Cheng Brothers) and Erchengcuiyan 二程粹言 (Refined Sayings of the Cheng Brothers), cannot be individually attributed, and there might be occasional inclusion of Zhang Zai’s sayings by a student of Zhang’s who is involved in the editorial work. I will mention ideas that cannot be individually attributed only when they bear affinity to ideas that can be so attributed (cf. Graham 1992: Appendix 1). As for Zhu Xi, I will confine attention to his mature thinking, namely, ideas that he endorses in roughly the last 20 years of his life. I will use primarily his Lunyu Jizhu 論語集注 (Commentary on the Analects), Mengzi Jizhu 孟子集注 (Commentary on the Mencius), Lunyu Huowen 論語或問 (Questions and Answers on the Analects), and Mengzi Huowen 孟子或問 (Questions and Answers on the Mencius), supplemented by ideas from the Zhuzi Yulei 朱子語類 (Sayings and Conversations of Zhu Xi Topically Arranged) that are not in conflict with the former works. The works on the Lunyu and Mengzi were composed at age 48, and Zhu continues to affirm these works in late life, reissuing the commentaries on the Four Books at age 61.2 So, ideas in these works may be regarded as representing his mature thinking. As for the Sayings and Conversations of Zhu Xi Topically Arranged, its content likely spans the last 30 years of his life, with the main body datable to the final 20 years, and a significant portion datable to the final 10 years (see Deng 1986: 8–10). Given its rather mixed nature, I will use the Sayings and Conversations of Zhu Xi Topically Arranged only as a supplementary source, drawing on ideas that do not conflict with, while elaborating on, ideas in his works on the Lunyu and the Mengzi. In addition, two of Zhu’s other commentaries, Ximing Jieyi 西銘解義 (Commentary on Zhang Zai’s Western Inscription) composed at age 43 and Taijitushuojie 太極圖說解 (Commentary on Zhou Dunyi’s Explication of the Meaning of the Diagram of the Great Ultimate) composed at age 44, are used by him in teaching at age 59 and so continue to represent his mature thinking (see Qian 1982, vol. 5: 411–20; Chan 1990: 305–10). I will have little occasion to use the Commentary on Zhou Dunyi’s Explication of the Meaning of the Diagram of the Great Ultimate, but will draw heavily on the Commentary on Zhang Zai’s Western Inscription. By contrast, I will not draw on his Zhouyi Benyi 周易本義, which was  I follow the dating of these texts in Qian 1982, vol. 5: 411–20 and Chan 1990: 305–10; see also Chan 1988: 62–79. Both Qian and Chan draw heavily on Wang Maohong’s A Chronological Record of the Life of Zhu Xi 朱子年譜 (Wang Maohong 2002). See also Deng 1986: 11–12. 2

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composed at age 48 but was repudiated by him in late life (see Deng 1986: 14–15), nor his Renshuo 仁說 (A Discourse on Humaneness), which is likely to be a much earlier work, composed no later than at age 42 (see Chan 1982: 40–42).

3.2 Zhu Xi and the Cheng Brothers: Sensitivity and Life Giving Both of the Cheng brothers explicitly mention the idea of one body, emphasizing respectively the humane person’s sensitivity to the conditions of others and her giving life to and nourishing others. Cheng Hao comments that humaneness involves a sensitivity to the conditions of all things in the way one is sensitive to the conditions of all parts of one’s own body. In this sense, the humane person and all things form the same body (ren zhe hun ran yu wu tong ti 仁者渾然與物同體), which he takes to be the point of Mencius’ observations that the ten thousand things are already in oneself (Mengzi 7A.4) and of Zhang Zai’s Ximing 西銘 (Western Inscription), also referred to as Dingwan 訂頑 (Cheng and Cheng 2002f: 2a.6b–7a, SBBY 2a.3a–3b). Alternatively put, the humane person has the same body as Heaven and Earth (yu tian di tong ti 與天地同體) (Cheng and Cheng 2002f: 11.22b, SBBY 11.11b), and views all things as one body so that there is nothing that is not part of oneself (ren zhe yi tian di wan wu wei yi ti, mo fei ji ye 仁者以天地萬物為 一體, 莫非己也) (Cheng and Cheng 2002f: 2a.4a–4b, SBBY 2a.2a–2b), this last remark being repeated elsewhere in the collected works as an unattributed saying (Cheng and Cheng 2002e: 1.16a, SBBY 1.7b–8a). This sensitivity Cheng Hao illustrates with the use of the term bu ren 不仁 in the medical context (Cheng and Cheng 2002f: 11.5a–5b, SBBY 11.3a). Just as the term is used in medical texts to describe numbness in the four limbs, to be not humane, or bu ren, is to be indifferent to the conditions of things as if they did not concern oneself (Cheng and Cheng 2002f: 2a.4a–4b, SBBY 2a.2a–2b), and similar ideas are found in a number of unattributed sayings (e.g., Cheng and Cheng 2002f: 2a.33a, SBBY 2a.15b; Cheng and Cheng 2002d: 3.2a, SBBY 3.1a–1b). On one occasion, the point is put by saying that the humane person has Heaven and Earth as her body and the ten thousand things as different parts of her body and, again citing the medical analogy, to be not humane is to be able to bear (others’ suffering) and to be lacking in kindness (ren xin wu en 忍心無恩) (Cheng and Cheng 2002f: 4.9b–10a, SBBY 4.5a). Cheng Yi, by contrast, emphasizes the idea of giving life to and nourishing things. He compares the heart/mind to the seeds of grains (xin pi ru gu zhong 心譬 如穀種) and humaneness to the heart/mind’s tendency to give life (sheng zhi xing bian shi ren 生之性便是仁) (Cheng and Cheng 2002f: 18.3b–4a, SBBY 18.2a), the point being that the fundamental function of humaneness is sheng 生, to give life and nourish. The same point is found in several unattributed sayings (e.g., Cheng and Cheng 2002e: 1.8b, SBBY 1.4b), some making the point that the way of Heaven

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is to give life and nourish (Cheng and Cheng 2002e: 1.10a, SBBY 1.5a) or that Heaven and Earth has as its heart/mind giving life to and nourishing things (Cheng and Cheng 2002d: 3.1b, SBBY 3.1a). Since the function of Heaven and Earth is also one’s function and the body of the ten thousand things one’s body (Cheng and Cheng 2002e: 1.22b, SBBY 1.10b–11a), the humane person also serves to give life to and nourish all things. In another context, the idea that the ten thousand things form one body (wan wu yi ti 萬物一體) is explicitly linked to the idea of shen sheng 生生 (continuously giving life and nourishing) from the Yijing (Cheng and Cheng 2002f: 2a.33a–33b, SBBY 2a.15b). Zhu Xi similarly invokes the idea of one body to describe one’s sensitivity to others’ conditions and one’s giving life to and nourishing them, explicitly relating these two aspects of humaneness. Commenting on Lunyu 6.30, he cites with approval Cheng Hao’s medical analogy and his observation that lack of humaneness can be compared to numbness in one’s limbs, explaining the idea of one body in such terms (Zhu 2002a: 3.18a; cf. Cheng and Cheng 2002f: 2a.4a–4b, SBBY 2a.2a–2b). As we saw in Sect. 2.1, he explains ce yin 惻隱 in Mengzi 2A.6 by saying that ce is a matter of being deeply hurt and yin a matter of deep pain (Zhu 2002b: 2.13b), and also explains yin in Mengzi 1A.7 in terms of pain (Zhu 2002b: 1.9b). In light of Mencius’ shift from speaking of bu ren 不忍 to speaking of ce yin 惻隱 (and yin 隱) in Mengzi 2A.6 (and 1A.7), he takes the two expressions to refer to the same state of the heart/mind (Zhu 2002b: 2.13b; 2002e: 28.12b; 2002b: 1.9a). And taking up Mencius’ point about extending such responses to all humans and animals, he further broadens their scope to all things, animate or inanimate. The heart/mind should ideally respond with ce yin to any situation that is problematic in anyway (bu wen chu 不穩處), that is, any situation in which anything is adversely affected, just as one would feel pain whenever one’s body is pricked by a needle. One should so respond to not just prospective harm to infants, but also harm to ants or even damage to window lattice (Zhu 1986: 1283–84; cf. 1297–98). While commenting on the Mengzi, Zhu draws a connection between this sensitivity of the heart/mind and its giving life to and nourishing things. All humans have the heart/mind of being unable to bear harm to others because they have received as their heart/mind the heart/mind of Heaven and Earth which functions to give life to and nourish things (tian di sheng wu zhi xin 天地生物之心) (Zhu 2002b: 2.13a; 1986: 1280–81; 2002e: 26.8a–8b). And commenting on King Xuan’s response to the ox, he adds that, while one should ideally have such a sensitivity to the conditions of all things, there should also be a differentiation in one’s response depending on the object. It is because there is such a differentiation that, while sensitive to their conditions, it would be appropriate to use animals for food or for performing rituals, though one should not use animals wastefully or cause pain unnecessarily (Zhu 2002e: 26.9a–11a). In his comments on the Cheng brothers, Zhu again connects the heart/mind’s sensitivity and its life giving force, saying that the heart/mind of ce yin is the Way of giving life (ce yin zhi xin, ren zhi sheng dao ye 惻隱之心, 人之生道也), citing Cheng Yi’s remark that the heart/mind is the Way of giving life (xin sheng dao ye 心生道也) (Zhu 1986: 2440). He also illustrates the sensitivity of the heart/mind

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with Cheng Yi’s example of the seeds of grains. Responses of ce yin are offshoots of the life giving force of humaneness just as sprouts are offshoots of the life giving force of seeds of grains (Zhu 1986: 1380–81). Thus, for Zhu, the idea that humaneness has to do with one’s forming the same body with Heaven and Earth and the ten thousand things is a matter of this life giving force of humaneness as well as its sensitivity (Zhu 1986: 2810). In this way, his views on the idea of one body combines both Cheng Hao’s comparison of the lack of humaneness to the numbness of limbs and Cheng Yi’s comparison of humaneness to the life giving force of the seeds of grains. Zhu embeds these ideas in the framework of li 理 (pattern) and qi 氣 (material force). It is because li 理 runs through all things that the life giving force of the heart/ mind extends to all things. To fail to be sensitive to the adverse conditions of and to fail to extend one’s kindness to others (ren xin wu en 忍心無恩) is to be self-­centered (si 私) in a way that separates oneself from other things (Zhu 1986: 2424–25). He also ascribes the differences between different kinds of things to differences in their endowment of qi 氣. These differences explain why we should have differential responses to different kinds of things, a point conveyed by saying that although li 理 is one (yi 一) in all things, its instantiations in things are differentiated (shu 殊) (Zhu 2002e: 26.9a–11a). In addition, he regards humaneness as a matter of grasping this one and at the same time differentiated li 理, and this leads him to occasionally distinguish between humaneness and the state of one body. For example, in response to a question about Xie Liangzuo 謝良佐 (or Xie Shangcai 謝上蔡) (1050–1103), who uses the notion of awareness (jue 覺) to explain humaneness, Zhu maintains that awareness is not the same as humaneness (Zhu 1986: 118). This difference he explains in two ways, that awareness has connotations that are closer to the attribute wisdom (zhi 智) (Zhu 1986: 118–19) rather than humaneness, and that when we talk about awareness, the focus is more on being aware of and sensitive to the conditions of things, unlike humaneness which also involves the grasp of li 理 (Zhu 1986: 2562). As a result, he is led on a few occasions to maintain some difference between humaneness and the idea of forming one body with things (Zhu 1986: 2484), taking the latter to focus primarily on awareness, namely the sensitivity to the conditions of all things, and hence on the “scope” of humaneness (ren zhi liang 仁之量) (Zhu 1986: 118). More typically, though, he would speak interchangeably of the two as the same state. This is probably a result of his often viewing ti 體 as itself also involving a grasp of li 理—a point we will elaborate on in the next section—so that to form one body with things is also a matter of grasping the li 理 in things.

3.3 Zhu Xi and Zhang Zai: Family Relationships and Sense of Mission Just like Fan Zhongyan’s well-known saying, Zhang Zai, who was advised by Fan in his youth, is widely known for his “four sentence maxim” (Hengqu Si Ju 橫渠四 句), which again reflects the broad and far-reaching aspirations that all scholar-­

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officials and aspiring scholar-officials are supposed to share. It urges them to “establish their heart/mind on behalf of Heaven and Earth, establish their purpose in life on behalf of the living multitude, transmit the teachings of the past sages, and work for harmony and peace for the next ten thousand generations (wei tian di li xin, wei sheng min li ming, wei wang sheng ji jue xue, wei wan shi kai tai ping 為天地立心, 為生民立命, 為往聖繼絶學, 為萬世開太平) (Zhang 2002b: 14.6b; SBBY 14.3b). Such aspirations are reflected in his Western Inscription, extracted from a chapter in his Zhengmeng 正蒙 (Awakening the Dim and Obscure), which also contains his well-known saying that “all people are siblings of mine, and all things are fundamentally connected to me” (min wu tong bao, wu wu yu ye 民吾同胞, 物吾與也). Echoing an idea we noted earlier in connection with Wang Fu, it describes the ruler as one’s parent and all people as one’s brothers (Zhang 2002b: 1.5a–6b, SBBY 1.3a–3b), thus presenting the human community as one family. In the Awakening the Dim and Obscure, Zhang describes how the ten thousand things are fundamentally one thing (wan wu sui duo, qi shi yi wu 萬物雖多, 其實一 物), and how Heaven is large with nothing external to it (tian da wu wai 天大無外) (Zhang 2002b: 2.9b–10a; SBBY 2.5a–5b). Just as Heaven embodies all things without omission, humaneness embodies all affairs and encompasses them all within its reach (tian ti wu bu yi, you ren ti shi wu bu zai ye 天體物不遺, 猶仁體事無不在也) (Zhang 2002b: 2.22b, SBBY 2.11b). What one needs to do is to enlarge one’s heart/ mind so as to embody all things (da qi xin ze neng ti tian xia zhi wu 大其心則能體 天下之物), and the sage views all things as part of oneself. As long as there is one thing that is not embodied, there is still something external to one’s heart/mind (wu you wei ti, ze xin wei you wai 物有未體, 則心為有外), and such a heart/mind will not accord with the heart/mind of Heaven (Zhang 2002b: 2.40b–41a, SBBY 2.21a). That is, all humans should aspire to this state of a “great person” (da ren 大人) in which one’s heart/mind encompasses all things; such far reaching aspirations (zhi da 志大) will deepen our talents and make our accomplishments momentous (Zhang 2002b: 3.4b, SBBY 3.2b). And in the Hengquyishuo 橫渠易說 (Zhang Zai’s Explication of the Book of Change), Zhang describes this all-encompassing heart/ mind as the heart/mind of Heaven and Earth (tian di zhi xin 天地之心) whose fundamental task is to give life to and nourish things (sheng wu 生物) (Zhang 2002b: 9.55a–55b, SBBY 9.29b–30a). This is the task of the “great person,” which involves forming one body with Heaven and Earth (yu tian di yi ti 與天地一體), and this ideal state of the heart/mind is compared to the heart/mind of Yu, which takes “all under Heaven” as its mission (Zhang 2002b: 9.12a–12b, SBBY 9.6a–6b). From this summary, we see that the teachings of Zhang bring together three themes—giving life and nourishing, viewing the human community as one family, and a deep sense of mission and accountability—with particular emphasis on the last two. The sense of mission and accountability is particularly highlighted in his “four sentence maxim” and throughout his works, and also in his views about enlarging one’s heart/mind to encompass all things. Zhu Xi draws on all these ideas and, in the context of commenting on Zhang’s Western Inscription, also elaborates on the idea that li 理 is one and at the same time differentiated.

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Yang Shi 楊時 (or Yang Guishan 楊龜山) (1053–1135) at one point questions whether Zhang’s Western Inscription is advocating the Moist idea of indiscriminate concern for all (jian ai 兼愛), and Cheng Yi responds that the Western Inscription actually teaches the idea that li 理 is one and at the same time differentiated (li yi fen shu 理一分殊). Zhu Xi endorses Cheng Yi’s view and comments further on Zhang’s ideas. According to him, the oneness of li has to do with the observation that all things come from Heaven and Earth as if Heaven and Earth is the parent of all things. All humans, being of the same kind and sharing a heart/mind of sharp intelligence, are like my siblings (min wu tong bao 民吾同胞), and so all under Heaven are part of one family and the whole kingdom is like one single person (tian xia wei yi jia, zhong guo wei yi ren 天下為一家, 中國為一人). At the same time, although other things are not of the same kind as myself, they all come from Heaven and Earth, the same source as myself, and so are fundamentally connected to me (wu wu yu ye 物吾與也) and are things that I should nurture. Still, although all things are connected, there is a differentiation among things (yi tong er wan shu 一 統而萬殊), some closer to and some more distant from me, and so there should be a differentiation in the way one interacts with things (Zhang 2002b: 1.1b–2a, SBBY 1.1a–1b; 1.5a–5b, SBBY 1.3a; 1.13a–13b, SBBY 1.7a). This point Zhu takes to be implicit in the observation in Mengzi 7A.45 about the different attitudes one takes toward parents, the people in general, and animals (Zhu 2002b: 7.16b; 1986: 2520). This idea of differentiation in the midst of unity is captured by the saying that li 理 is one and at the same time differentiated, which Zhu takes to be the underlying thesis of Zhang Zai’s Western Inscription (Zhu 1986: 2524–25, 2527). In the context of these comments, Zhu at times explains the idea of forming one body with things in terms of one’s personally grasping the li in things. We noted earlier Zhang’s view that one should enlarge one’s heart/mind to embody (ti 體) all things, and that as long as there is one thing not so embodied, there is still something external to one’s heart/mind. While commenting that Zhang’s presentation is at times too abstract and can be misinterpreted (Zhu 1986: 2517–19), Zhu proposes that the term ti 體 here should be understood in terms of situating one’s heart/mind in things to grasp their li 理 (Zhu 1986: 2518), agreeing with a suggestion put to him that this is a matter of entering into things and affairs to personally experience (ti ren 體認) them (Zhu 1986: 2518). This way of understanding ti is related to Zhu’s interpretation of the idea of qiong li 窮理 in terms of grasping and exhausting li as it resides in things. But since truly grasping the li in things and affairs would involve one’s responding properly to them, this interpretation of ti also implies that to truly ti a thing involves being sensitive to its conditions as well as giving life to and nourishing it. Thus, this interpretation of what it is to form one body with things is consistent with that presented in the previous section. Zhu relates the idea of one body to a sense of mission in his comments on Zhang’s idea that “I have as my body what fills Heaven and Earth, and as my nature what commands Heaven and Earth” (tian di zhi sai wu qi ti, tian di zhi shuai wu qi xing 天地之塞吾其體, 天地之帥吾其性). According to Zhu, what fills Heaven and Earth is qi 氣—Mengzi 2A.2 also refers to the flood-like qi as what fills (sai 塞)

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Heaven and Earth—and Zhang’s point is that the qi that fills Heaven and Earth is part of my body. What commands (shuai 帥) Heaven and Earth is its master (zhu zai 主宰), which is the li 理 of Heaven and Earth and also the li 理 that I have as my nature. Thus, on Zhu’s view, Zhang’s statement has the implication that I take as my responsibility all that fills Heaven and Earth (you wo qu cheng dang zhi yi 有我去 承當之意) (Zhu 1986: 2520). In his commentary on the Mengzi, Zhu also takes note of this deep sense of mission as exemplified in the legendary figures Yao, Shun, Yu and Hou Ji (Zhu 2002b: 3.10a–12a, 4.27a–27b), and in Confucius’ and Mencius’ efforts to combat the corrupt teachings prevalent in their respective times, teachings whose corrupting effects on the human heart/mind are no less disastrous than the devastating effects of floods and rampant wild beasts on the general population (Zhu 2002b: 3.26a–27b, 2002e: 31.3a–3b). In connection with the latter, he adds that similar efforts are needed in his own times to combat Buddhist and Daoist teachings, which have equally disastrous consequence, citing concrete examples from the Jin and the Southern and Northern dynasties to illustrate his point (Zhu 1986: 1320–21). Thus, while Zhu’s comments on Zhang Zai sometimes highlight the point that one forms one body with all things in the sense of grasping the li 理 in them, he also views this as grounding the four different dimensions of the idea of one body that we have highlighted. Another point of note in his comments on Zhang Zai is that he emphasizes that the state of one body should not be understood as involving some reflective position that one adopts and that grounds its different dimensions. When any part of my body is touched, I immediately have the feeling, be it itch or pain, without this being dependent on reflection and direction from my heart/mind. Similarly, I should feel what happens to things without being dependent on reflection and direction from my heart/mind (Zhu 1986: 2511). Or, thinking in terms of love, we love all things because they form one body with us—the love flows naturally from the fact that they form one body with us, and is not derived from our reflecting on this fact. That is, the fact that they form one body with us describes a state we are in, and our being in that state need not involve our reflecting on how that state came about, such as reflections about how humans and things all owe their existence to Heaven and Earth and are endowed with a common li 理. For this reason, it is misleading to say that we should love all things because humans and the ten thousand things all receive the same endowment of li and qi (Zhu 1986: 852). Thus, while Zhu Xi himself offers a certain reflective account of the basis for this state of one body, he is also emphatic that having some such reflective account is not itself part of what is involved in being in that state.

3.4 The Idea of No Self For Zhu, what is fundamental to this state of one body is the state of no self (wu wo 無我), and this latter idea can also be traced to early Chinese thought. It is implicit in the Zhuangzi 莊子, which speaks of “losing oneself” (sang wo 喪我) (Zhuangzi

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1965: 1.10a), forgetting oneself (wang ji 忘己) (Zhuangzi 1965: 5.6a), and no self (wu ji 無己) (Zhuangzi 1965: 1.5a, 6.8b). While the Zhuangzi grounds the idea on considerations quite different from the Song Confucians and ascribes to it quite different implications, there are also commonalities to the way these ideas are understood. Neither the Zhuangzi nor the Song Confucians understand the idea in terms of the non-existence of some entity identifiable as “the self” construed in some specific manner—for both, the idea is conveyed using the first personal pronoun wo 我 or ji 己, and the pre-modern Chinese language does not have a vocabulary comparable to the way “the self” is used in contemporary English. Rather, for both, the idea represents a direction of self-transformation that involves the eventual elimination of certain contributions by one’s own heart/mind that adversely affect the way one views one’s place in the world and the way one responds to it. As we saw, Fan Zhongyan also hints at this idea when he idealizes one’s “emptying oneself” (xu ji 虛己) and using the heart/mind of the multitude as one’s heart/ mind (yi zhong xin wei xin 以衆心為心). Zhang Zai and the Cheng brothers explicitly highlight this idea. In the Awakening the Dim and Obscure, Zhang mentions the idea in connection with the “largeness” (da 大) of the sense of mission that characterizes the sage, saying that it is through being without the self that one is “large” in this sense (wu wo er hou da 無我而後大) and that one will be free from pride if one is “large” (da ze bu jiao 大則不驕) (Zhang 2002b: 2.27a–27b, SBBY 2.14a–14b). This state of no self characterizes the sage, who has aspirations that runs through “all under Heaven” (tong tian xia zhi zhi 通天下之志) (Zhang 2002b: 3.3a, SBBY 3.2a), so that one’s virtue matches that of Heaven and Earth and one’s brightness matches that of the sun and moon (Zhang 2002b: 3.1b, SBBY 3.1a–1b). In other parts of his collected works, he again links the idea to broad and far-reaching aspirations and to qualities akin to what we would describe as humility. The learner should practice no self to avoid being subject to restricted aspirations (zhi xiao 志小) or superficial efforts (qi qing 氣輕). If their aspirations are restricted, they will be easily satisfied and will not advance far. If their efforts are superficial, they will take what is lacking to be full (xu er wei ying 虛而為盈), what is narrow to be broad (yue er wei tai 約而為泰), what is lacking to be possessed (wang er wei you 亡而為有); they will falsely assume they understand what is not yet understood and have learnt what is not yet learnt, will be ashamed of asking and learning from others, and will be fond of demonstrating superiority over others (hao sheng yu ren 好勝於人) (Zhang 2002b: 7.8a–8b, SBBY 7.4a). The link between broad and farreaching aspirations and qualities akin to humility is understandable—those who have such aspirations will inevitably focus attention on continually advancing their goals without thoughts of how much they have accomplished, especially by comparison to others. That is why the sage, being without “self-centeredness” and without a “self” (wu si wu wo 無私無我), will not have any thoughts about himself despite his all-­surpassing accomplishments (Zhang 2002b: 14.4a–4b, SBBY 14.2b). Zhang also conveys the idea of no self in terms of there being no distinction between oneself and other things in that one does not make oneself stand out as having a distinctive place among things. This is put in the Awakening the Dim and Obscure in terms of there being no “self-centeredness” in the sense of a distinction

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between oneself and things (wu wu wo zhi si 無物我之私) (Zhang 2002b: 2.47b, SBBY 2.25a), and elsewhere in terms of “evening out” the distinction between oneself and things (ping wu wo 平物我) (Zhang 2002b: 6.3b, SBBY 6.2a). This idea is further explicated in another context. One should view things without “using oneself to mirror things” (yi shen jian wu 以身鑑物), that is, without viewing things in terms of our own preconceptions. One is just one thing among others (ji yi shi yi wu 己亦是一物), and without such preconceptions, one can see oneself and things as they are (shen yu wu jun jian 身與物均見), and everything will be properly illuminated. And what constitutes such preconceptions is further explicated in terms of an idea from Lunyu 9.4, which advocates being without four items: yi 意, bi 必, gu 固, wo 我. It is these four items that are difficult to eliminate and that account for the “self-centered self” (si ji 私己) (Zhang 2002b: 7.4a–5a, SBBY 7.2b–3a). Later, we will discuss how Zhu Xi elaborates on what these four items involve. Cheng Hao also highlights the idea of no self and speaks against using oneself to view things. On his view, it follows from the point that the humane person forms one body with all things that there is nothing that is not part of oneself (mo fei ji ye 莫非己也) (Cheng and Cheng 2002f: 2a.4a–4b, SBBY 2a.2a–2b) or that one is just one thing (wu 物) among others, without standing out from them in any way. To treat oneself as standing out from other things is to pit one thing (oneself) against another (all other things) (er wu you dui 二物有對) (Cheng and Cheng 2002f: 2a.6b, SBBY 2a.3b). Furthermore, once there is a conception of oneself as standing out from other things, one will be viewing and responding to other things with one’s own preconceptions (yi ji dai wu 以己待物). Instead, we should view and respond to things as they are, without any such preconceptions (yi wu dai wu 以物待物), and this is what it is to be without a self (wu wo 無我) (Cheng and Cheng 2002f: 11.12a–12b, SBBY 11.6b). The sage has attained this state and operates in the way Heaven does; to fall short of this is to have a self (you ji 有己) (Cheng and Cheng 2002f: 11.14a–14b, SBBY 11.7b). These ideas Cheng Hao presents in his letter Dingxingshu 定性書 (Calming One’s Nature), written in response to Zhang Zai, in terms of the idea that Heaven and Earth encompasses the ten thousand things with its heart/mind and does not have a heart/mind (of its own) (yi qi xin pu wan wu er wu xin 以其心普萬物而無 心), while the sage flows along with the ten thousand affairs with his emotions and does not have any emotion (of his own) (yi qi qing shun wan shi er wu qing 以其情 順萬事而無情). Put differently, one should flow along with and respond to things as they come (wu lai er shun ying 物來而順應). For example, the sage’s joy (xi 喜) or anger (nu 怒) is not primarily a matter of how his heart/mind views a situation, but a matter of whether the situation itself makes such a response appropriate, and so his joy or anger resides in things and not in his own heart/mind (sheng ren zhi xi nu bu xi yu xin er xi yu wu ye 聖人之喜怒不繫於心而繫於物也). Being able to view situations in this manner is particularly difficult in the case of anger, which is difficult to control (Cheng and Cheng 2002c: 3.1a–1b, SBBY [Essays of Cheng Hao] 3.1a–1b; cf. Cheng and Cheng 2002e: 2.63b–64b, SBBY 2.28b–29a). In this way, the idea of no self is linked up with the idea of no emotions (wu qing 無情),

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both having to do with the absence of any preconception in oneself that adversely affects the way one views and responds to situations one confronts. Turning to Cheng Yi, when commenting on Mengzi 7A.4, he refers to no self as ideally one’s substance (yi wu wo wei ti 以無我為體) so that shu 恕 (reciprocity), one’s treating others as one would oneself, flows naturally from it without effort (Cheng and Cheng 2002f: 21b.5a–5b, SBBY 21b.2b). What shu flows naturally from is humaneness, which is a matter of gong 公, viewing oneself and others in a balanced fashion without tilting toward oneself, so that one responds to situations without bias toward oneself (wu wo jian zhao 物我兼照) (Cheng and Cheng 2002f: 15.18b, SBBY 15.8b). And commenting on Lunyu 12.1 in which Confucius responds to Yan Hui’s 顏回 question about humanness by explaining it in terms of “overcoming the self and returning to the observance of the rites” (ke ji fu li 克己復禮), he remarks that when one practices seriousness (jing 敬), there will not be a self to overcome (wu ji ke ke 無己可克) (Cheng and Cheng 2002f: 15.1b, SBBY 15.1a; Cheng and Cheng 2002f: 15.24a, SBBY 15.11b).3 Like Zhang Zai, Cheng Yi also relates the idea of no self to qualities akin to humility, such as by describing pride as a matter of having a self (jiao zhi wei you ji 驕只為有己) (Cheng and Cheng 2002f: 22a.4a, SBBY 22a.2a). Other sayings not individually attributed to either brother further elaborate on this theme. One saying in the Refined Sayings of the Cheng Brothers, about the sage being without a self and so does not claim credit despite his unsurpassed accomplishments, is likely a saying of Zhang Zai’s as it matches (with omission of one character) a saying of Zhang’s recorded in his collected works (Cheng and Cheng 2002e: 2.76a, SBBY 2.34b; cf. Zhang 2002b: 14.4a–4b, SBBY 14.2b). But the idea in this saying is not that different from other sayings from the The Cheng Brothers’ Explication of the Classics which are likely by one or the other of the Cheng brothers. For example, in one saying, after similarly describing the sage as being without a self (wu wo 無我) and not claiming credit despite his unsurpassed accomplishments, it goes on to describe one’s storing any thought of one’s accomplishment in one’s heart/mind as a matter of having a “self-centered heart/mind” (six in 私心), which then leads one to have the air of being prideful (jin man zhi qi 矜滿之氣) (Cheng and Cheng 2002g: 2.5a–5b, SBBY 2.2b–3a). In another saying, the idea of no self is illustrated by the example of Yan Hui, who is (on a common interpretation) described in the Lunyu by Zengzi 曾子 as someone who is capable but who nevertheless seek advice from those less capable (Cheng and Cheng 2002g: 7.23b, SBBY 6.11a; cf. Lunyu 8.5). That the idea of no self, which these early Song Confucians relate to the idea of one body, is also related to qualities akin to humility shows that humility is also connected to the state of one body. Zhu Xi basically endorses all of these ideas. For example, he endorses Cheng Hao’s point that the state of one body, illustrated by the medical analogy, implies that none of the ten thousand things is not part of oneself (mo fei ji ye 莫非己也)  Zhu Xi, who compiled the Surviving Works of the Cheng Brothers, indicates that volume 15 contains the sayings of Cheng Yi, though he also notes the alternative view that these are Cheng Hao’s sayings. 3

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(Zhu 2002a: 3.18a; cf. Cheng and Cheng 2002f: 2a.4a–4b, SBBY 2a.2a–2b), and Zhang Zai’s point that the state of one body, understood in terms of enlarging one’s heart/mind to embody all things, implies that there is not a single thing that is not part of oneself (wu yi wu fei wo 無一物非我). To fail to embody anything is to exclude it from one’s heart/mind thereby opposing that thing to oneself (wu wo dui li 物我對立) (Zhu 1986: 2518; cf. Zhang 2002b: 2.40b, SBBY2.21a). And separately from his comments on the other early Song Confucians, Zhu himself makes similar observations. According to him, in the heart/mind of the sage, which operates in the way the heart/mind of Heaven and Earth gives life to and nourishes all things, there is no separation between things and oneself, or between what is internal and what is external to oneself (wu wo nei wai zhi jian 物我內外之間) (Zhu 2002d: 16.14a–14b). As long as things and oneself penetrate and connect to each other (wu wo guan tong 物我貫通), there will be the sense of ceaselessly life giving. Otherwise, there will be a separation between things and oneself (wu wo ge jue 物 我隔絕), so that one would work toward one’s own interests at the expense of others’ (Zhu 1986: 690). If there is no separation between things and oneself and one does not stand out from other things, there is no longer a “self” that has some special status, and in this sense there is no self (wu wo 無我), an idea that Zhu highlights repeatedly. For example, he takes Zhang Zai’s Western Inscription to advocate the elimination of the self-centeredness of working for oneself (wei wo zhi si 為我之私) so as to attain the impartiality of no self (wu wo zhi gong 無我之公) (Zhang 2002b: 1.13a–13b, SBBY 1.7a). Commenting on Lunyu 15.24, he cites the view of a student of Cheng Yi that shu 恕, when taken to the extreme, would lead to the state of no self of the sage (Zhu 2002a: 8.5b–6a). Commenting on Lunyu 12.1, he thinks that the “self” (ji 己) in Confucius’ reference to “overcoming the self” (ke ji 克己) has to do with self-centered desires (si yu 私欲), and having a self (you ji 有己) is a problematic state to be overcome (Zhu 2002a: 17.1b–2a). And commenting on Lunyu 12.2, which concerns (though without explicitly mentioning) jing 敬 (seriousness), he endorses Cheng Yi’s view that, through the practice of jing 敬 and shu 恕 (reciprocity), there will no longer be a “self” to overcome (wu ji zhi ke ke 無己之可克) (Zhu 2002a: 6.11a–11b), this being the state of humaneness (Zhu 2002d: 17.7a). Zhu also invokes the idea of no self in contexts that highlight qualities akin to humility. In Lunyu 8.5, Zengzi describes a friend who, being capable, would seek advice from those less capable, having talents, would seek advice from those less talented, and who would appear wanting while actually possessing (you ruo wu 有 若無) and appear empty while being full (shi ruo xu 實若虛). Following the common view that this friend is Yan Hui, Zhu comments that Yan Hui’s heart/mind is not subject to the separation between things and oneself (wu wo zhi you jian 物我之 有間), and cites the observation by a student of Cheng Yi that this requires a state of the heart/mind close to that of no self (ji yu wu wo 幾於無我) (Zhu 2002a: 4.12a). Yan Hui is close to the state of no self without yet attaining it because he still has thoughts about not showing superiority over others, and so still works with some distinction between self and others (shang you ge ren yu wo xiang dui 尚有個人與 我相對). By contrast, the sage has truly attained the state of no self (sheng ren ze

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quan shi wu wo 聖人則全是無我) because he no longer works with that distinction (ren wo du wu 人我都無) (Zhu 1986: 922). This comment highlights the point that there are certain conceptions that an external observer might use to describe the sage’s heart/mind while the sage does not work with those conceptions; having such conceptions might even detract from the sage’s state of the heart/mind. Zhu makes a similar point in other contexts, such as his comments on Lunyu 14.1 read in conjunction with his comments on Lunyu 8.5 (summarized above) and on Mengzi 2A.8. Commenting on Mengzi 2A.8, he invokes the idea of no self to describe our relation to goodness (shan 善). Goodness has to do with li 理, which exhibits impartiality (gong 公) in that it draws no distinction between self and others. If one is without the self-centeredness of having a self (you wo zhi si 有我之私), one will view goodness impartially, without thoughts about such goodness residing in oneself (Zhu 2002e: 28.13b–14b; cf. 1986: 399). Commenting on Lunyu 14.1, he relates the idea of one body to this idea and to qualities akin to humility. In response to questions put to him, he notes that the state of forming one body with others (ren ji yi ti 人己一體) is connected to the absence of a desire to be superior to others and to seeing that dao li 道理 (the Way and its pattern) is something shared impartially. Yet he adds that these ways of talking are “secondary” (di er zhu 第二著) and do not capture the basic state they seek to describe, namely, a state in which one just attends to dao li 道理 without thoughts about its being impartial or about one’s not being superior to others (Zhu 1986: 1117). In this last comment, Zhu again makes the point that the state of one body or no self in itself does not involve the kind of reflective thoughts that some observer might have when describing the state from the outside; these descriptions by an observer need not be part of the self-description by someone whose state is so described. We will return to this idea in Sect. 4.3. In relation to the idea of no self, Zhu also describes Heaven and Earth as having no heart/mind (wu xin 無心) and the sage as having no emotions (wu qing 無情), drawing on Cheng Hao’s ideas. According to Zhu, the point of Cheng Hao’s comment is that Heaven and Earth just engages in the activity of giving life and nourishing things, which constitutes its heart/mind, and does not have a heart/mind of its own in the sense of deliberately so acting. Similarly, the sage’s emotions just flow along with situations that the sage confronts, in the sense of just responding in a manner that conforms to li 理, and the sage does not have emotions of his own in the sense of emotional responses that stem from self-centeredness, namely, one’s own preconceptions (Zhu 1986: 4–5, 2442–43). These comments do not deny that the heart/mind and emotions are present in some ordinary sense. But they are absent in some other sense—in the case of Heaven and Earth, a heart/mind that acts with deliberate intent, and in the case of the sage, emotions that are influenced by one’s own preconceptions. In another context, Zhu Xi emphasizes the same point in relation to the idea of no self. This is not a state in which one mistakenly thinks that one is identical with others; one can still tell the difference between oneself and others in some ordinary sense. What is absent is a self that in some sense stands out from others, in a way that Zhu again describes in terms of self-centeredness (Zhu 2002d: 23.7a–7b).

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Commenting on Lunyu 9.4, and following Zhang Zai’s lead, Zhu elaborates on how such a self might come about. The passage idealize the absence of four items— yi 意, bi 必, gu 固, wo 我. On Zhu’s interpretation, yi has to do with self-centered thoughts (yi, si yi ye 意, 私意也), thoughts that place an emphasis on what relates to oneself in a way that makes one stand out. Bi has to do with one’s striving after or aiming at things that stems from yi, with anticipation of the outcome (bi, qi bi ye 必, 期必也), while gu has to do with one’s fixating on the outcome (gu, zhi zhi ye 固, 執滯也). On the basis of these three items, wo, the self-centered self (wo, si ji ye 我, 私己也) forms and solidifies, and as it does so, it further generates other self-­ centered thoughts, so that the four items move in a cycle and reinforce each other (Zhu 2002a: 5.1b–2a; 2002d: 14.2b–3b). The phenomenon that Zhu describes is quite familiar to us. For example, I might have thoughts of making a favorable impression at an upcoming public event, and as I attend the event, I am moved by the thought to speak in a certain manner in order to impress, in anticipation of making a favorable impression. I then become fixated on the outcome—I feel pleased if I succeed and displeased if not, and these responses stay in the heart/mind (de ze xi, xi bu neng de hua, bu de ze yun, yun yi bu neng de hua 得則喜, 喜不能得化, 不得 則慍, 慍亦不能得化). They then feed into the formation of a conceited self, with a conception of myself as superior and deserving of attention, and as such a self solidifies, it generates further self-centered thoughts, perhaps thoughts of criticizing others for the purpose of displaying my supposed superiority. Someone not vulnerable to these influences would, by contrast, just speak in whatever manner is appropriate to the occasion, without deliberate thoughts about what one can accomplish for oneself. This is the situation of the sage, who just responds to situations in accordance with li 理 (sheng ren zhi kan li dang wei bian wei, bu dang wei bian bu wei 聖人只看理當為便為, 不當為便不為); he does not have any thoughts of what he would like to do or not do that is distinct from what li 理 dictates in that situation. That is, the sage’s responses do not derive from his own thoughts but just follow li 理 (bu zai ji yi er wei li zhi shi cong 不在己意而惟理之是從), unlike someone whose responses are based on pre-conceived thoughts that arise without regard to what li 理 might dictate (xian qi yi, bu wen li zhi shi fei 先起意, 不問理之是非). The latter constitutes self-centeredness (si 私) and leads to the danger of having a self (you wo zhi huan 有我之患) (Zhu 1986: 951–55).

3.5 A Profound Cosmic Sense and a Profound Sense of Humanity Zhu Xi’s comments on the idea of one body invoke certain ideas specific to his thinking, such as his belief that each human already forms one body with all things in the original state because there is a single li 理 running through them. As the purpose of this chapter is to probe the nature of the life experiences conveyed through his idea of one body that are shared across cultures and times, we will

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bracket these specific details and focus on how his understanding of the idea brings together the five themes mentioned earlier. First, it involves a sensitivity to the conditions of humans and things. Zhu elaborates on Mencius’ reference to chu ti 怵惕 and ce yin 惻隱 as responses to situations involving significant harm, either actual or potential, and takes ce yin to be intimately related to bu ren 不忍, the latter taking as its object a situation involving actual or potential harm, one’s witnessing the situation, the pain one feels upon witnessing the situation, and one’s failing to prevent or bringing about such a situation. Two points are worth noting in this connection. First, the terms yin and bu ren take as their object a situation involving actual or potential harm to a thing, rather than the thing itself, and so syntactically they differ from such English expressions as “sympathy” and “empathy,” which take the thing harmed as object. Second, yet another point of difference, the terms can take as their object a situation in which the actual or potential harm is harm to oneself. Thus, what we are considering is a complex response of the heart/mind that is directed to situations involving actual or potential harm to things, including harm to oneself. These observations will play a crucial role in Sect. 4.1. Mencius highlights instances in which humans have a sensitivity to harm not just to oneself, but to others in certain contexts, and urges people to develop this sensitivity so that it applies more generally, going beyond the specific contexts. While Mencius likely advocates broadening the sensitivity to encompass primarily humans and animals, Zhu Xi broadens its scope to include all things, whether animate or inanimate. This he takes to lead to Cheng Hao’s idea that the humane person forms one body with all things in that, just as one should be sensitive to the conditions of every part of one’s own physical body, one should also be sensitive to the conditions of all things in the sense of responding in the manner just described to situations involving harm to them. The second theme concerns the idea of giving life and nourishing, which is also implicit in the comparison of one’s relation to all things to one’s relation to parts of one’s physical body. The idea of giving life and nourishing is highlighted in early texts primarily in connection with the relation between the ruler and his people. But over time, with the emergence of a conception of all scholar-officials and aspiring scholar-officials as potentially having an influence on central policies, the idea is broadened to characterize the way each human should relate to other humans and things. Cheng Yi highlights the idea by comparing the human heart/mind to seeds of grains and humaneness to the heart/mind’s tendency to give life. Zhu Xi draws on these ideas, and relates the sensitivity of the heart/mind to its tendency to give life and nourish. His elaboration on the idea of one body combines these two themes and brings together Cheng Hao’s comparison of the lack of humaneness to the numbness of limbs and Cheng Yi’s comparison of humaneness to the life giving force of seeds of grains. These two themes are illustrated by the parent–children relationship—a parent gives life to and nourishes her children and is also intimately sensitive to their conditions. While early texts invoke this relationship largely in connection with the way the ruler relates to his people, the relationship is later mentioned in a broader context, including the way a local official relates to those directly under

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his care. The idea that the ruler should relate to the people as parent to children also has the corollary that all people are related as part of one single family, a point explicitly stated in the Liji and elaborated on by Wang Fu and Zhang Zai. This provides the third theme in the idea of one body, which Zhu Xi takes up while at the same time emphasizing that there should be a differentiation in how one interacts with other humans and things depending on their different relations to oneself. The fourth theme concerns the deep sense of mission and accountability. Just as a parent dedicates herself to nourishing her children and regards herself as accountable for their well-being, each human should similarly relate to all humans and things. Such life giving activities should, in a form appropriate to one’s life circumstances, be something around which one’s life revolves and to which one devotes constant attention. This sense of mission and accountability is illustrated in early texts by the efforts of Yu, Hou Ji and Yi Yin, and in the Mengzi by Confucius’ and Mencius’ efforts at combating corrupt teachings. By the Tang Dynasty, all scholar-­ officials and aspiring scholar-officials are supposed to share such a sense of mission, a point given vivid portrayal in early Song Dynasty through Fan Zhongyan’s and Zhang Zai’s well-known sayings. In advocating that humans enlarge their heart/mind, Zhang is also advocating that humans broaden their aspirations to encompass this deep sense of mission. Zhu Xi endorses these ideas of Zhang’s and associates them with the idea of one body. For him, the state of one body involves having as a central driving force in one’s life, one that is undergirded by a deep sense of accountability, the concern for all humans and things conveyed by the three themes mentioned earlier—giving life to and nourishing them and being sensitive to their conditions, in the way that one would in relation to family members and things to which one is fundamentally connected. Finally, the fifth theme is that, in taking up such a perspective, one will no longer have a “self” in a sense that makes oneself stand out from other things, an idea conveyed by saying that there is no self. The idea can be found in the works of Zhang Zai and of the Cheng brothers, and is put in terms of there being no self, all things being part of oneself, there being no opposition or separation between things and oneself, or oneself being just one thing among others. Zhu endorses these ideas, and regards the idea of no self as central to the idea of one body. He is explicit that being in this state is compatible with drawing some ordinary distinction between oneself and others; it is not a state of confusing oneself with others. Also, he allows and finds appropriate a differentiation in the way we interact with humans and things, depending on their different relations to us. Since such differential interactions are in a way centered on oneself, what is rejected is a perspective on one’s place in the world that makes one stand out in a way that goes beyond such differential interactions. For convenience, we may say that what is rejected is the presence of an emphatic self. Zhu Xi and the other early Song Confucians make several other observations about the idea of no self. Cheng Hao relates it to there being “no emotions,” Zhang Zai and Cheng Yi relate it to qualities akin to humility, and Zhang Zai ascribes the

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presence of an emphatic self to the four items highlighted in Lunyu 9.4. In addition to endorsing these ideas, Zhu characterizes the state of no self in terms of the way one attends to goodness, and also relates the idea of one body directly to some of these other ideas, showing that the idea of one body also has the broader implications that he associates with the idea of no self. In addition, he emphasizes how these more reflective ways of describing the state of one body or no self are just our ways of talking about someone in that state and do not describe the person’s own perspective. This summary shows that the idea of one body is extremely complex, with several interconnected dimensions. In relation to the human community, it is a state of existence that involves one’s relating to all other humans as if they are immediate family members, working for their betterment in dedicated ways and being intimately sensitive to their conditions, viewing this as a central mission in one’s life and viewing oneself as accountable for any shortfall due to one’s negligence. One’s perspective on the human community is such that, aside from the differential interactions due to different relations, it is as if each and every human is part of oneself, and one does not have any distinctive place among humans. For convenience, we may refer to such a perspective as a profound sense of humanity. Going beyond the human community, the state of one body also involves one’s being similarly related to all things, whether animate or inanimate. The profound sense of humanity is but a more specific component of what may be called a profound cosmic sense. For Zhu Xi and the other early Song Confucians, this profound cosmic sense is something that each person should aspire to. Indeed, the key elements of Confucian learning are all geared toward helping the student build such broad and far reaching aspirations, and learn in a way that exhibits depth and connectedness so as to build an overall perspective of the kind just described on the human community, on the world at large, and on one’s place in it (see Shun 2016a). Given the complexity of the idea of one body, an obvious question is how its different dimensions, including related ideas such as the linkage to qualities akin to humility, are connected. Making sense of the idea of no self is crucial to addressing this question since, for Zhu, the state of one body is basically identical with the state of no self. To make sense of the idea of no self, we need to examine the idea of an emphatic self—that is, what it is for one to take up a perspective that makes one stand out in a way that goes beyond the ordinary distinction between oneself and others and the differential interactions due to different relations. It will not be ­possible to fully address this question in this paper.4 But we will partly address the question in Sect. 4, focusing on the first dimension concerning the sensitivity to harm to others. To keep the discussion manageable, we will confine attention to our relation to humans, exploring the idea of no self in relation to the profound sense of humanity.

 I provide a more comprehensive and primarily philosophical treatment of this question in Shun 2018. 4

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4 Philosophical Implications: A Profound Sense of Humanity 4.1 Sensitivity to Harm and the Idea of No Self In the following discussion, I will assume the notion of well-being of humans, and will refer to as harm an occurrence that is detrimental to someone’s well-being in some significant way. To the extent that the person is aware of the harm and responds with some negative mental state, I will say that she suffers the harm. In Sect. 2.1, we considered the responses to harm to others that Mencius presents using the terms chu ti, ce yin and bu ren and that Zhu Xi takes up and elaborates on. We highlighted two points in this connection. First, the primary focus of the responses concerns actual, imminent or anticipated situations in which some object is harmed. They involve the heart/mind’s being noticeably moved (chu 怵) by the situation, in such a way that one’s attention is focused on it and one cautiously and fearfully seeks to prevent or remedy it (ti 惕). Furthermore, one’s own heart/mind is negatively affected by the situation (ce 惻) resulting in a painful or sorrowful state (yin 隱). The responses also involve one’s being unable to bear (bu ren 不忍) not just the situation, but also one’s witnessing the situation, the resulting pain or sorrow in one’s heart/mind, or one’s action which potentially brings about or fails to prevent such a situation. Second, while our focus is on harm to others, these responses can also be directed to situations involving actual or prospective harm to oneself. This point we illustrated with the example from the Guoyu concerning how the people cannot bear (shu min bu ren 庶民不忍) a situation in which they themselves are oppressed, a situation that causes them to be in a painful or sorrowful state (min yin 民隱). Here, what the people cannot bear, and feel pain or sorrow at, is a situation involving harm to themselves. These two points suggest a way of making sense of the idea of no self in relation to the sensitivity to harm involved in the state of one body. When in this state, one still retains, as Zhu emphasizes, the ordinary distinction between oneself and others, and can tell who has been harmed. Because one retains that ordinary distinction, one can also tell in what relation the harmed object stands to oneself, and can respond differentially in accordance with the differences in such relations. But aside from such differentiation in responses, one’s responses to situations involving harm to others are similar in nature to one’s responses to situations involving harm to oneself. There is no conception of oneself as standing apart from others—in this sense, there is no “separation” (jian 間) or “opposition” (dui 對) between oneself and others. To see what this state of no self involves, let us consider a specific form of harm, namely, being wrongfully injured by another party. In previous publications, I considered Zhu’s views on anger in response to wrongful injury, and his views illustrate the idea of no self in relation to anger (see Shun 2014, 2015). Consider a situation in which an offender has wrongfully injured a victim. If the victim is a stranger, I might respond with anger at the situation because I care about the ethical norms that have been violated and perhaps also about the victim as a fellow human, and I might be moved to intervene or take corrective steps. If the victim is someone related to

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me in a special way, say a friend or family member, I might respond with greater emotional intensity because I care for the victim in a special way, in addition to caring for the ethical norms that have been violated. I might also feel a greater urgency and special obligation to intervene and take corrective steps. This is a matter of differential responses due to different relations to the victim, something that Zhu Xi would endorse and indeed advocate. If the victim is myself, I might also, for the same reasons, respond with greater emotional intensity and feel a greater urgency to defend myself and take corrective steps. To the extent that my response, while different in degree due to the closer relation I stand to myself, is not different in nature from the other two scenarios, this is again a matter of differential response that Zhu would endorse. But my response when I myself am the victim might take on a special form. I might place a special significance on the way I myself am treated by others, and regard wrongful injury of myself as a challenge to my standing as a person—it impinges on my sense of honor and disgrace. I feel myself insulted and as a result potentially disgraced by the treatment, and my anger is targeted at the offender, not just directed at the ethically problematic situation. This form of anger Zhu refers to as anger that pertains to the physical body (xie qi zhi nu 血氣之怒), which for him is a lower, problematic form of anger. This view is continuous with the early Confucian emphasis that one’s sense of honor and disgrace should ideally be a matter of the ethical qualities of oneself and one’s own ethical conduct, rather than the way one is treated by others. When confronting wrongful injury to oneself, one’s attention should be focused on the ethically problematic situation and on the ethical quality of one’s response to the situation, not on how one has been personally challenged. One would still respond with anger, just as one would when the victim is a stranger, but this would, for Zhu, be the form of anger that pertains to morality (li yi zhi nu 理義之怒) (Zhu 2002b: 1.18b). Because anger that pertains to the physical body focuses on oneself, while anger that pertains to morality focuses on the ethically problematic situation and on the ethical quality of one’s response, Zhu also describes the former as residing in oneself (zai ji 在己) and the latter as residing in things (zai wu 在物) (Zhu 2002a: 3.10b). According to him, one should transform oneself so that one responds only with the latter but not the former kind of anger. That is, even though one still distinguishes between oneself and others in an o­ rdinary sense, one does not attach special significance to oneself going beyond differential responses due to different relations. In short, there is no emphatic self. But the special significance one attaches to oneself can be a matter of underemphasizing others rather than overemphasizing oneself, that is, a matter of failing to attend sufficiently to others instead of attending too much to oneself. This is the case of harm that does not involve wrongful injury. One tends to respond to situations involving actual or prospective harm of significance to oneself in ways that are familiar and understandable—the heart/mind is conspicuously moved when one becomes aware of the situation, its attention is focused on it, it feels pained or distressed by it, and it is moved to remedy or pre-empt the situation and cannot bear to not so act. Even if no corrective or preventive action is possible or appropriate, one still wishes things to be otherwise and finds the situation unbearable. Sometimes, as

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when undergoing a surgery, one finds visually witnessing the situation unbearable, and sometimes, as when anticipating a situation that invokes horror, one finds the distress of the heart/mind also unbearable. It is possible to respond to a situation involving harm to another in a similar manner, as illustrated by the parent–children relationship. When a parent becomes aware of severe and painful injury of her child, whether she directly witnesses it or not, she would respond as if it were herself who has been injured. Her heart/mind is conspicuously moved upon knowing about the situation and is deeply pained and distressed, her attention is focused on the situation, and she is moved to remedy it to the extent possible with caution and fearfulness, She finds unbearable the situation, her awareness of the situation, the pain and distress of her own heart/mind, and her not acting to mitigate the situation. Such responses are as intimate and unmediated as when she herself suffers a similar injury; it is as if part of herself had been injured. In certain specific contexts such as those highlighted by Mencius, which involve direct visual exposure to the harm, one might also respond in a similar manner to harm to another who is not closely related to oneself. And this might also be true of harm to another for whose well-being one has a special accountability by virtue of one’s official position, as illustrated by the portrayal of the legendary sages Yu and Hou Ji. But, outside of such special relationships, contexts and official accountability, humans do not naturally so respond to situations involving harm to others. The absence of comparable sensitivity to harm to others might be due to different factors. It might have to do with the mode of presentation of the situation, a point highlighted in Mengzi 1A.7. It is common experience that we tend to respond differently to the same situation, say famine victims or young children affected by the 2017 chemical gas attack in Syria, depending on its mode of presentation. We are more intimately engaged when we personally witness or see graphic images of the situation, which is why it is good educational experience for children from developed countries to visit developing countries to gain a more personal experience of what a life of deprivation is like. It is also why, for certain situations involving pain that has to take place for good reasons such as a needed surgical operation, one might prefer to avoid visual exposure to the situation. The reverse side of this natural tendency is that one might be relatively indifferent to situations involving harm for which one does not have a vivid presentation, as in King Xuan’s indifference to his people’s misery. Part of what the ideal of one body advocates is that we should sensitize the heart/mind to minimize the dependence of such responses on vivid presentation. Another factor concerns the closeness of relationship to the objects of harm. We tend to care more about those closely related to us, and the Confucian advocacy of differential responses takes into account this aspect of the human psychology. But the reverse side of such tendency is exclusivity—one only cares about those with sufficient closeness to oneself through family ties or histories of interactions, and becomes largely indifferent to strangers and those in far off lands. Typically, people are not totally indifferent, as seen from the flood of donations after the 2017 Northern California fires and of blood donations after the 2017 Las Vegas shooting. But part

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of what led to these responses is the sense of local community as well as the visual presentations of the incidents in news coverage. What the ideal of one body advocates is that we should sensitize the heart/mind to similarly respond to comparable situations outside of our local communities, such as the current famine in South Sudan and Yemen. Yet another factor concerns the sense of accountability. We feel a special responsibility for the people who, by virtue of our social or official positions, are under our care, and are particularly responsive to their harm and suffering. This is the way parents relate to their children, and the idiomatic expression fu mu guan 父母官 reflects the expectation that someone in an official position should relate to those under his care as parent to children. Such expectations are still common nowadays. Shortly after about 400 people were buried alive in a landslide in Siaolin Village (xiao lin cun 小林村) in Taiwan in 2009, a local official received widespread criticism for spending time dining in a luxury hotel while the rescue work is still in progress. The official’s explanation that he was just keeping a promise to celebrate the birthday of his father-in-law did not sit well with the local community. There is the expectation that one should be deeply pained by the disaster that happened to people under one’s care, as if one’s own children were buried alive, and the official’s actions were incompatible with such expectations. Similarly, the Prime Minister of the United Kingdom was criticized for meeting only with officials and rescue personnel when she visited the site of the Grenfell Tower fire in London in 2017; the failure to meet with the survivors and relatives of the victims was seen as demonstrating an insensitivity to people under one’s care. Part of what the ideal of one body advocates is that we should broaden this sense of accountability to all humans, not limiting it to those under one’s care by virtue of specific social or official positions. By early Song Dynasty, this broad sense of accountability has become the ideal for all scholar-officials and aspiring scholar-officials. Even without a high office in central government, one can still send memorandums to the Emperor in an effort to effect changes that benefit all, something that Zhu Xi himself repeatedly did. In modern times, we can discern such a broad sense of accountability in the sentiment that many feel in relation to doing one’s share in environmental conservation for the benefit of future generations. To the extent that what we do in our daily lives affect the livelihood of others, we should be sensitive to their conditions as if they were under our care. The ideal of one body urges us to sensitize our heart/mind to mitigate the various factors that might potentially limit the scope of its sensitivity, so that we can respond with similar intimacy to situations involving harm to any, taking into account the differential responses due to different relations. In the case of anger in response to wrongful injury, it is the tendency to attach special significance to the way one is treated by others that generates an emphatic self, and the remedy is to transform oneself so that one can respond to wrongful injury to oneself in a way comparable to one’s response to wrongful injury to others. By contrast, in the case of one’s responses to harm in general, it is the tendency to attach insufficient significance to harm to others due to these limiting factors that generates an emphatic self, and the remedy is to sensitize the heart/mind so that one can respond to harm to others in a

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way comparable to one’s response to harm to oneself. In this sense, one incorporates more and more of others into oneself, a process that Zhu Xi, following Zhang Zai, describes as one of “enlarging the heart/mind.” On this account, the “separation” or “opposition” between oneself and others that the idea of no self opposes has to do with an emphatic self, which concerns a perspective that assigns special significance to oneself going beyond the differential responses due to different relations. The nature of that special significance can vary, but in each instance, it is generated by certain natural human tendencies, whether highlighting oneself as in the case of wrongful injury or downplaying others as in the case of harm in general. This account allows us to make sense of the linkage between the state of no self and qualities akin to humility. In problematic forms of pride, the emphatic self is generated by natural tendencies to make oneself superior to others (hao sheng 好勝) or gain their admiration (hao ming 好名). The remedy is to view one’s own accomplishments, or others’ recognition of one’s accomplishments, in a way comparable to the way one views the accomplishments of others. While the sensitivity under consideration involves the heart/mind’s responding to harm to others in a manner comparable to its response to similar harm to oneself, there is in either case no implication that such responses should be acted on, or that it is inappropriate to seek to mitigate such responses in special circumstances. It is in order for us to avoid watching a needed surgical operation on ourselves or on others, so as to avoid being subject to the pain or distress associated with the sight. Mengzi 1A.7 makes a similar point about staying away from the kitchen, and as we saw, early texts often portray a potential conflict between these responses and one’s official duties. While we might have differing conceptions of where resolution of certain potential conflicts resides, the underlying point is that whether to act on such responses is subject to the constraints of a conception of what is proper, however we conceive of its content. This can provide grounds for mitigating such responses under special circumstance, though at the same time we should sensitize the heart/ mind so that the scope of its responses to harm extends to all humans. The mitigation of such responses should be grounded in some normative conception, rather than blocked by extraneous considerations including the limiting factors we ­considered, and more specific factors such as prejudice against the individual harmed or inattention due to other preoccupations.

4.2 Sensitivity to Harm and Contemporary Discussions Our discussion shows that the sensitivity to harm involved in the state of one body is conceptualized in Confucian thought in a way different from contemporary discussions of such ideas as sympathy, empathy, or self-other merging. This does not mean that these other ways of conceptualizing our responses to harm to others are not applicable to the kinds of examples that the Confucians discuss, such as the infant about to fall into a well, only that they do not describe the Confucian perspec-

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tive on the responses as conveyed through such terms as ce yin and bu ren, or through the ideas of one body and no self. Consider, for example, the attempt to frame the Confucian idea of one body in terms of the contemporary notion of empathy, which is understood in different ways by philosophers and psychologists. Some view it as a matter of having feelings and emotions that are similar to, or congruent with, those of the other party, in a way causally linked to the fact that the other party has such feelings and emotions (e.g., Snow 2000: 66–67). Some take it to also involve one’s imaginatively projecting oneself into the perspective of the other, responding imaginatively from the other’s perspective, thereby coming to feel what the other would feel as if one were the other party (e.g. Coplan 2011: 6; Hoffman 2014: 74; Darwall 1998: 263–64, 267–72). Other fine distinctions in the literature on empathy include distinguishing between cognitive and experiential purposes in the exercise of perspective taking, and between undertaking this exercise in a self-directed (what oneself would experience) as opposed to an other-directed (what the other might be experiencing) manner (see Batson 2010: 12–20). The notion of empathy understood in these specific ways does not describe the kind of responses highlighted in the Confucian idea one body. This is not just because the responses might be to situations involving prospective or actual harm that the other party is not aware of. Even if the other party is aware of the harm and responds to it, the responses highlighted by the Confucians do not, in themselves, involve one’s projecting oneself into the perspective of the other party or one’s sharing her mental states. Instead, the responses have to do with the heart/mind’s being conspicuously moved and pained by the situation, finding it unbearable and, relatedly, finding unbearable one’s witnessing the situation, the resulting pain in one’s heart/mind, and one’s failing to act to alleviate the situation. None of these elements of the responses is in itself a matter of taking up the perspective of the other party or sharing her mental states. And even though the idea of one body is often presented by the Confucians—as in Cheng Hao’s medical analogy—in terms of one’s being pained by the pain of others as if it were one’s own pain, their point is not that one imaginatively projects oneself into the other party’s perspective and shares her pain. Their point is rather that one’s heart/mind is sensitized in such a way that it responds to situations involving harm and resulting pain and distress to another party in the way that one would respond to situations involving comparable harm and resulting pain and distress to oneself. While the kind of responses the Confucians highlight with the terms ce yin and bu ren are not in themselves a matter of perspective taking or sharing the other party’s mental states, this does not mean that they would deny that these other phenomena might occur or could be relevant. To respond in the manner they describe, one has to understand the situation of the other party and what she is going through or might go through. To do so, perhaps one might need to project oneself into her perspective to arrive at a sense of what it is like to suffer, or for her to suffer, the harm. And perhaps the Confucian idea of shu 恕 (reciprocity), explained in Analects 15.24 as not imposing on others what one would not wish to be imposed on oneself, could be interpreted as involving some process like perspective taking. Still, it is likely

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that, from the Confucian perspective, dependence on such process would not be needed, or would at least be minimized, as one approximates the state of one body. It would not be needed if one is responding to harm to a party whom one knows well, involving situations that are relatively familiar, as when a parent responds to a situation involving severe physical injury and pain to her child. And what the ideal of one body advocates is that we should sensitize our heart/mind to similarly respond to situations involving harm to any human. While some process like perspective taking might take place in the course of self-cultivation, the need for such process would be minimized as one makes progress. Zhu Xi himself notes how shu, in the prescriptive form presented in Analects 15.24, is a method of cultivating humaneness. In the state of humaneness, one would just not impose on others what one would not wish to be imposed on oneself, without further thought and effort, and without the need to engage in this kind of projective exercise. This Zhu takes to be the state that Analects 5.12 describes, explaining why Confucius says Zigong 子貢 has not attained this state despite urging him to practice shu in Analects 15.24 (Zhu 2002a: 3.4b–5a, 2002d: 10.11b, 1986: 116, 723–24). Turning to the notion of sympathy, this is often understood in terms of a response to someone undergoing harm that stems from a non-fleeting positive regard that one has for the well-being of the other party. One might empathize with someone in the senses described earlier without having sympathy—one might take up the perspective of the other party and share her mental states without having positive regard for her. Conversely, one might have sympathy for someone without empathizing with her in the sense of taking up her perspective and sharing her mental states. Compassion is often viewed as structurally similar to sympathy, though it is typically a response to harm of a kind that is significant and central to well-being of the other party. The responses to harm highlighted by the Confucians do not exclude the presence of sympathy or compassion so understood, but their nature differs from the way these notions are often understood in the literature. For example, some have invoked a distinction between the first and third person perspectives in discussing sympathy. Sympathy is supposed to involve one’s viewing harm to someone from a third person perspective, by contrast to empathy, understood in terms of perspective taking, which involves one’s viewing things from the other party’s first person perspective. The example in Mengzi 2A.6 of one’s responses to the infant about to fall into a well has been described as a matter of sympathy understood in this manner— one is responding from a third person perspective and out of a concern for the well-­ being of the infant and for his sake (see Darwall 1998: 261, 263–64, 268–69, 273–76). While this is the way we ourselves might describe the example from a contemporary philosophical perspective, this does not describe the way the Confucians conceptualize the response. As we saw, the terms Mencius uses to present the responses are terms that can be used to describe one’s responses to situations involving harm to oneself, not just to others, and this feature provides the basis for Zhu Xi to take the extension of such responses to all humans to lead to the state of one body and of no self. Given that the same kind of responses can be directed to harm to oneself, it

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is difficult to see how the way Mencius conceptualizes these responses can be understood in terms of a third person perspective. Admittedly, one can take a third person perspective on a situation involving harm to oneself in the sense of adopting a more removed perspective comparable to the way some third party views such a situation. But this would be a contrived interpretation of the terms ce yin and bu ren. When the Guoyu describes the pain (yin) of the people upon being oppressed and how they cannot bear (bu ren) such a situation, it does not appear to be describing a scenario in which the people are taking a more removed third person perspective on their own plight. The Confucian idea of one body advocates that we extend to situations involving harm to others the kind of more intimate and unmediated responses that we have toward situations involving harm to ourselves. If we are to invoke the distinction between the first and third person perspectives at all, it seems closer to the Confucian position to describe it in terms of extending the first person perspective from oneself to others, viewing situations involving harm to others in a way comparable to those involving harm to oneself. But if we do this, it would seem that the Confucian view on anger summarized earlier would involve a reverse move. What it advocates is that we respond to situations involving wrongful injury of ourselves in a way comparable to our responses to situations involving wrongful injury of others. So, if we are to invoke the distinction between first and third person perspectives, it would appear that the Confucian view of anger advocates extending the third person perspective from others to oneself. This rather unusual conclusion—that the Confucians advocate a third personal form of response in one case and a first personal form of response in the other— results from our trying to fit the Confucian position into the contemporary philosophical distinction between first and third person perspectives. But that contemporary distinction assumes some distinction of significance between the two perspectives; it assumes that my response to a situation in which I myself am affected differs in some significant way from my response to a situation in which someone else is similarly affected. The Confucian idea of “no self,” by contrast, opposes any distinction of significance between myself and others, going beyond differential responses. Thus, in describing the Confucian position in terms of that contemporary distinction, we would be trying to fit it into some conceptual framework that it would itself reject. This is not to deny that the Confucians do work with some conception of one’s response to a situation taking a form that is too personally involved (as in the case of the problematic form of anger) or too removed (as in one’s being insufficiently sensitive to a situation involving harm to others). But unlike the contemporary distinction, this kind of difference is a difference in degree, with one form merging gradually into the other. After all, for the Confucians, the transition to the idealized form of anger, or the “enlargement of the heart/mind” that involves expanded sensitivity to situation involving harm to others, is a gradual progression that one is supposed to work on over one’s life time, and is not a matter of shifting between two distinct points of view. Instead of the notions of empathy and sympathy understood in these specific ways, a more useful notion for describing the Confucian perspective is that of con-

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nectedness. A paradigmatic example of the kind of responses to harm to others that the Confucians idealize is the way a parent responds to a situation involving harm to her child. She responds as if this is a situation involving comparable harm to herself, and from her perspective, there is no distinction of significance between herself and her child. She is not responding from a more removed third person perspective—for her, the situation is no less intimate or distressing than a situation in which she herself is similarly harmed. But her response is also not a matter of her projecting herself into the perspective of her child and sharing the child’s mental states—after all, the child might not be aware of the harm, and even if he is, her distress depends only on her awareness of the situation, not on any exercise of imaginative projection into her child’s perspective. Her sensitivity to harm to her child is such that it is as if she and her child are connected as one, a point that the Lüshichunqiu puts by saying that it is as if they were one body spatially divided into two. What the Confucian idea of one body advocates is that one views all other humans as similarly connected to oneself, albeit with differential responses due to different relations. This idea of connectedness emphasizes the heightened sensitivity of the human heart/mind to situations involving harm to any human. It differs from a picture that underlies much of the contemporary discussion, one that emphasizes the distinctness of the responder from the harmed party—given that emphasis, the focus will be on how one responds from a “third person perspective” to the other party or how one projects oneself imaginatively to respond from the “first person perspective” of the other party. This emphasis on distinctness can also be found in certain ways of understanding compassion, and in a certain puzzlement that has engaged philosophical attention. According to some, compassion involves a sense of shared humanity, the sense that the harm to the other party is something that could also happen to oneself. It promotes the experience of equality in that it involves one’s viewing the other party as an equal fellow human being (Blum 1980: 511–12; cf. Snow 1991: 196–99). Without implying that the Confucians deny that humans are equal, this sense of equality is not part of the Confucian perspective on the idealized form of responses to harm. When the parent responds to harm to her child, her perspective is not that her child is an equal human being like herself, but that he is connected to her as if part of her body. The consideration of equality, which focuses on herself and her child as distinct and separate individuals, is not part of her perspective, which focuses instead on this connectedness. A certain puzzlement also arises from the emphasis on the distinctness of the responder and the harmed party. It takes the form of a question about how one human can, in some sense, feel or be moved by the harm and suffering that another undergoes, given that the second party is distinct and separate from the first (e.g. Schopenhauer 2005: 85; cf. Cartwright 2008: 296). To address the puzzlement, some have proposed that the two parties are, in some deeper metaphysical sense, actually one despite appearances (Schopenhauer 2005: Part III, Chapter V and Part IV, Chapter II). Others who reject this metaphysical view have proposed instead that the responding party must have imaginatively projected herself into the other’s per-

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spective to so respond (Cartwright 2008: 303). The underlying assumption in these proposals is that, given that the two parties are distinct and separate, some kind of link has to be established between them for one to respond to harm to the other. Such puzzlement does not arise on the Confucian position because the sensitivity involved in the idea of one body concerns responses of the heart/mind to situations involving harm. Each of us can undergo harm and feel physical pain when physically injured. We can also comprehend the situation, and as a result feel pain, sorrow or distress in the heart/mind in response to such situations, on top of any physical pain that we might feel. What the idea of one body advocates is that we sensitize our heart/mind so that it similarly responds to situations involving harm to others. The responses are to situations involving harm to others, and do not involve our actually feeling the pain of others or our being directly moved by it, whether this be the physical pain they feel as a result of physical injury, or pain in their heart/mind arising from their awareness of harm to themselves. Our actually feeling their pain in either sense, and our being directed moved by such pain, would have raised a puzzlement, as there is the presumption that they are directly linked to their pain, epistemologically and motivationally, in a way that we are not. But on the Confucian view, the idealized kind of response is a response to situations involving harm to them. There is no similar presumption that they are directly linked to such situations, epistemologically and motivationally, in a way that we are not. Indeed, as illustrated by Mencius’ example of the infant crawling toward a well, we might be aware of a situation involving harm to them even if they themselves might be unaware of it. And it is this awareness of the situation that triggers the chain of responses described in terms of ce yin and bu ren, responses that involves the heart/ mind’s feeling pain and being moved. The point that there is no presumption that they are directly linked to such situations in a way that we are not is related to the parallel point that there is no presumption that we are directly linked to situations involving harm to ourselves in a way that we are not in relation to situations involving harm to others. That is, there is no presumption that the heart/mind cannot respond to situations involving harm to others in as direct and intimate a fashion as it responds to situations involving harm to oneself. That it can so respond to situations involving harm to others is a fact ­familiar to us, as when a parent responds to situations involving harm to her child, or when we respond to visual presentation of young children in deep pain. What the ideal of one body advocates is an extension of these responses broadly to encompass all humans. Our discussion shows that the notions of empathy, sympathy and compassion do not described the Confucian perspective if these notions are understood in the specific ways in which they have been discussed in the contemporary philosophical literature. Admittedly, these notions can also be understood in a general manner so that they apply more broadly. For example, the notion of empathy has been explained by some in terms of emotional responses congruent with another’s situation, without implying that one’s feelings match the other party’s feelings. All that the idea of congruence involves is that one is positively or negatively affected in accordance with whether one views some occurrence as positively or negatively affecting the

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well-being of the other party (e.g. Batson et al. 1997: 497; Batson 2010: 11; Hoffman 2000: 29–30). And one can similarly understand the notions of sympathy and compassion in this broad sense, and proposes that these notions, very broadly construed, do describe the Confucian perspective. One can adopt this strategy if one so chooses, and a similar strategy can be adopted for other philosophical conceptions that one wishes to employ to describe the perspective of Chinese thinkers. But then the question is what purpose is served by such a strategy. The application of these notions understood in the more specific manners in which they have been discussed in the philosophical literature is supposed to further our understanding of Chinese traditions of thought in some substantive way. If, in response to the concern that their application actually distorts our understanding of Chinese traditions, one resorts to very broad construal of the notions, application of these broadly construed notions no longer helps our understanding of Chinese traditions. It adds nothing that is not already obvious to say that the Confucians advocate our responding to others in a way congruent with their situations, where the notion of congruence is understood in this broad sense. And focusing on framing the Confucian idea of one body in terms of empathy, or sympathy, or compassion, even if broadly construed in this manner, runs the risk of hiding from view the distinctive features of the Confucian idea of one body, namely, its emphasis on expanding the sensitivity of the heart/mind and its sense of connectedness to encompass all humans. Finally, let us consider a certain phenomenon highlighted in recent psychological studies that appears to share with the Confucian perspective the shift away from the emphasis on how the responder to harm and the harmed party are distinct and separate. The phenomenon is presented in terms of the ideas of self–other merging and perceived oneness, ideas that some might invoke to describe the Confucian idea of one body. Again, without implying that the Confucians deny that these ideas might describe certain aspects of the responses to harm they idealize, these ideas do not describe the Confucian perspective on these responses. The idea of self–other merging draws on recent theoretical development concerning the malleable nature of the self—while our self-conceptions are fairly stable over time, they can shift temporarily so that, when one takes the perspective of another and experiences what the other is experiencing, one can come to embody the self within the boundaries of the other. The distinction between self and other is compromised by perspective taking in that there is a conceptual merger of self and other, resulting in a perceived oneness, but without involving a confusion of actual physical distinctness (Cialdini et al. 1997: 482). There are at least four reasons why these ideas are different from the notion of oneness in the Confucian idea of one body. First, the Confucian idea of one body describes a relatively enduring state, not a kind of experience that one has in certain specific contexts. It is rooted in the absence of an emphatic self; that is, one does not view oneself as having any special significance going beyond differential responses. Thus, the Confucian idea of oneness describes an enduring posture, unlike the idea of perceived oneness which describes certain experiences associated with the self–other merging that takes place in certain specific contexts.

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Second, even if we focus on responses to specific situatiosn involving harm to another, the Confucian perspective on the nature of these responses is different. Self–other merging is supposed to take place in the context of perspective taking; one perceives oneself as residing in the other when one takes on the perspective of the other, and this perspective taking is supposed to facilitate the symbolic merging of the self into the other (Cialdini et al. 1997: 483, 491–92). But, as we have discussed, perspective taking is not part of the Confucian perspective on the kind of responses to harm they idealize, and hence not part of the Confucian idea of oneness. Third, the perceived oneness that such psychological studies highlight is primarily a measure of the sense of interpersonal unity that the participants feel with the other party, as conveyed through their responses to certain survey questions. The intensity of such sentiments, as the studies show, is often a function of the closeness of personal relations (Cialdini et al. 1997: 483–90; cf. Batson 1997: 518–20). By contrast, while the Confucian idea of one body includes an endorsement of differential responses based on different relations, the oneness at issue is not a function of the closeness of relations. Instead, it concerns the absence of a conception of oneself as having a special significance that goes beyond such differential responses, and the Confucian notion of oneness is a normative ethical ideal that one approximates, not a measure of the sentiments one feels toward another party. This does not exclude the possibility that someone who has approximated that ideal might indeed have sentiments that are like the sense of perceived oneness that these psychological studies measure. But the Confucian idea of oneness is not in itself about such sentiments, and the normative proposal is not about what kind of sentiments one should feel. Fourth, these psychological studies are designed to show that it is perceived oneness rather than empathy that is the real cause of helping action; empathy is a mere concomitant that serves as an emotional signal of oneness (Cialdini et al. 1997: 483, 491). The Confucian idea of oneness, by contrast, is not in itself a source of motivation. Instead, it describes a normative ideal involving a state of the heart/mind in which one does not view oneself as having a special significance going beyond differential responses. When one has approximated that state, one would be moved in certain ways by situations involving harm to others, as presented through the terms chu ti, ce yin, and bu ren. But oneness is not in itself a source of motivation, though the state of oneness makes a difference to the way one is motivated.

4.3 One Body and No Self In the previous two sections, we discussed the nature of the sensitivity to harm that is part of the idea of one body, how it relates to the idea of no self, and how it is illustrated by the parent–children relationship. Consideration of the parent–children relationship also helps us make sense of the two other dimensions of the idea of one body, that concerning life giving and that concerning the sense of mission and accountability. A parent’s sensitivity to harm to her child stems from a relation to the child which also has a positive aspect—she dedicates time and effort to nourish-

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ing her child, not just in relation to his physical needs, but also in other ways such as educating and guiding him, a point highlighted in early texts. Furthermore, just as her heart/mind would be pained and distressed by situations involving harm to her child, it also takes delight in situations in which he flourishes, not just physically but in other ways such as success in life. In addition, she views herself as bearing a responsibility and accountability for his well-being in both respects. She sees herself as responsible for nourishing him and accountable should anything falls short in his life that can be traced to insufficient attention or efforts on her part. And she also sees herself as responsible for protecting him from harm and accountable should he be harmed in a way that she could have reasonably prevented. In what follows, we will elaborate further on these two dimensions, concluding with a discussion of the perspective of someone who has approximated the ideal of one body. The state of one body involves not just sensitivity to harm, but also one’s devoting attention and efforts to promoting the well-being of others as well as taking delight in their flourishing, in the way one does the same for oneself. Aside from the differentiation in attention and efforts based on different relations, one views one’s own well-being and flourishing as carrying no special significance compared to those of others. This point is highlighted by Mencius when he urges King Xuan to take delight in the delight of the people (le min zhi le 樂民之樂) and be concerned with their concerns (you min zhi you 憂民之憂) (Mengzi 1B.4). Here, what one takes delight in is the delight of others, and by extension, others’ having access to things they take delight in. Just like the pain one feels at harm to others, this is not a matter of perspective taking or experiencing another’s mental state, but a matter of one’s taking delight in situations that involve the delight of others or their having access to things that would bring them delight. On this picture, the relation of life giving and nourishing that one stands to oneself and one’s own children should be extended to all humans, with differentiation but without assigning any other special significance to oneself. Reflection on the life giving and nourishing forces in relation to oneself, including the way one receives life and nourishment from ancestors and parents and transmits life and nourishment to children and future generations, as well as the way food and nutrition nourishes oneself, helps move one to continue life in and nourish others.5 Reflection on the life giving and nourishing forces in the natural order, such as the way animals breed and flourish or the way plants grow and decline, also helps move one to contribute to this life giving and nourishing process.6 These reflections help sensitize the heart/mind  Dai Zhen, in his An Evidential Examination of the Key Terms and Ideas in the Mencius (Mengzi ziyi shuzheng 孟子字義疏証) (Dai 1982), emphasizes how reflection on one’s efforts to continue life in oneself should move one to also continue life in others, such as by helping them fulfill their desires. 6  Among Western thinkers, Albert Schweitzer’s emphasis on the idea of reverence for life depicts a similar phenomenon. He notes how reflecting on one’s own “will to live” fills one with reverence for the “will to live” that is in all things, and how reflecting on life in the natural order, including trees, flowers and insects, fills one with a similar sentiment. For him, ethics consists in one’s showing to the “will to live” in all things the same reverence one has to one’s own “will to live”; this involves not just a fellowship in suffering but also in joy and efforts (Schweitzer 2009: 136–40, 158–64). 5

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so that one comes to share in the heart/mind of giving life to and nourishing all humans and things that characterizes Heaven and Earth, a point emphasized by Zhu Xi and the later Confucians. And in extending the way one relates to close family members to all humans, one will be viewing the whole human community as if it were one single family, a point highlighted in the Liji and put in early Song Dynasty in terms of one’s viewing all humans as if they were one’s children and younger brothers. As for the sense of mission and accountability, we have seen how, in the history of Chinese thought, the scope of application of the parent–children relationship expanded over time to encompass not just the relation of the ruler to the people, but also the relation of a local official to people under his care, as well as the relation of all scholar-officials and aspiring scholar-officials to the human community. In early Song Dynasty, even if one is not in high office, one can still potentially effect changes through memorandums to the Emperor or through the ethical influence of one’s teachings. Just as a parent makes nurturing her children a dedication in her life, these “scholars” (shi 士) also feel a sense of mission to contribute to the human community, whether politically, ethically or intellectually, sentiments vividly conveyed in the well-known sayings by Fan Zhongyan and Zhang Zai. While we live in a different social and political environment in which our contributions to the human community, and to the natural world at large, have to take different forms, this sense of mission and accountability is not irrelevant or unfamiliar. The general idea is that, taking into account one’s life circumstances and competing demands, and factoring in the differential attention and efforts due to different relations, to the extent that one can reasonably prevent harm to or promoted the good of others, one has a responsibility to do so and should feel accountable if any shortfall results from one’s negligence. Those who, without depending on special incentives, engage in efforts at environmental preservation such as recycling and avoiding pollution of air and water, or efforts at slowing climate change such as minimizing emission, do so out of a sense of responsibility to the human community at large, including future generations. And many of us also actively seek to avoid unnecessary damage to plants or unnecessarily taking the lives of animals, while some join in organized efforts to preserve wildlife, again demonstrating our sense of responsibility to preserving the natural environment.7 The sense of sadness we often feel upon observing the devastation brought by storm or fire to the natural environment is not just sadness at the loss of what is of utility or aesthetic pleasure to ourselves, but is a sentiment that reflects our sense of connectedness to the natural world. At the heart of the idea of one body is the idea of no self, which involves the absence of a perspective that makes oneself stand out in a way that goes beyond the differentiation in attention, efforts, and responses grounded in different relations. The idea of no self has several complex dimensions that we cannot go into within

 Schweitzer also highlights this sense of responsibility as part of the reverence for life (Schweitzer 2009: 139). 7

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the scope of this chapter, other than briefly mentioning its connection to some related ideas.8 Zhu Xi’s notion of self-centeredness, or si 私, can be understood in terms of the presence of an emphatic self, as seen from his references to the self-­ centeredness of having a self (you wo zhi si 有我之私). His account of the four items presented in Lunyu 9.4—yi 意, bi 必, gu 固, wo 我—is precisely an attempt to spell out how such an emphatic self arises. The linkage of the idea of one body to that of no self also explains why he relates the former idea to qualities akin to humility as well as to the idea of attending to goodness (shan 善). When responding to situations we confront, our attention should be on what is ethically appropriate to the situations, and focusing attention in this way pre-empts the intrusion of the emphatic self. For example, when confronting personal injury, so focusing our attention steers us away from viewing the injury as a personal challenge, thereby pre-empting the kind of anger that “pertains to the physical body” or “resides in the self” to which Zhu is opposed. So responding to situations also means that one is “responding to situations as they are” (yi wu dai wu 以物待物) without “using oneself to respond to things” (yi ji dai wu 以己待物). And since one’s emotions follow what is appropriate to situations and do not stem from an emphatic self, they are in a sense not one’s emotions, and so the sage has “no emotions.” We will not be able to elaborate on these ideas here, but will conclude with one final observation about the perspective of someone who has approximated the state of one body or no self. On several occasions, Zhu emphasizes that, while we might describe that state in certain reflective terms, this is not the way someone in that state would herself describe things. For example, we would say that someone in that state would not be moved to show superiority over others, but that person herself would not have thoughts about her not being so moved, since having such thoughts already assumes some distinction of significance between oneself and others. And while we would say that such a person focuses attention on goodness without viewing the goodness as something in herself, she would not herself have thoughts about not viewing goodness as something in herself. The general point is that, while we would say that someone in that state would not have thoughts about how she herself stands out from others, she would not so describe herself as that description already assumes (though denying) a conception of oneself as standing out from others, a conception that she does not work with. For convenience, let us distinguish between an internal and an external perspective on the state of one body or no self. The former is the perspective that someone in that state has, and the latter the perspective that an observer takes up in describing her state. The external perspective differs from the internal perspective in relation to not just what, from the external perspective, is absent from the internal perspective. There can be more positive descriptions from the outside of the state of one body or no self that are not themselves part of the internal perspective. For example, while commenting on Zhang Zai, Zhu at times describes the state of one body as involving one’s grasping the li 理 in things, while at the same time emphasizing that  See Shun 2018 for further elaborations.

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someone in that state just responds without having reflective thoughts of this kind. One is pained by a situation involving harm to others in the way one is immediately pained by a cut in a part of one’s body, without being dependent on any reflective thought that guides one’s response. And one’s love for all things flows naturally from the state of forming one body with them, again without being dependent on any reflective thought of this kind. That is, being in the state of one body need not involve any reflective thought about how that state is supposedly grounded, such as thoughts about how humans and things all owe their existence to Heaven and Earth and are endowed with a common li 理. The point that an external description of someone in an idealized state need not be part of the internal perspective of that person is familiar to us. Furthermore, from the external perspective, while we might in our reflections go beyond mere description and instead seek some reflective account that supposedly grounds that state of existence, that reflective account is not part of what is involved in being in that state. After all, the most ethically admirable people we know are often common people who are unlearnt or even illiterate, not prone to this kind of reflection. It does not mean that someone in that state cannot have such a reflective account, only that having that account is not part of what it is to be in that state. As long as having the reflective account does not mean that one is motivated by that account in one’s responses in a way that detracts from the unmediated nature of the idealized kind of responses, having that account would not preclude one’s being in the idealized state of one body (see Shun 1996). Reflecting on the state of one body might lead one to ask how it is possible for us to be in that state, and some might answer by positing some kind of underlying unity of all things that goes beyond appearances. This is a natural direction to take if one regards the idealized state of existence as involving one’s literally experiencing the mental states of others, or being directly moved by their well-being as one would one’s own. This seems impossible unless, in some ultimate sense, others are part of oneself. And this answer might be developed in two different directions—that when acting to promote the well-being of others and prevent harm to them, one at the same time perceives others’ well-being as being literally one’s own, or alternatively, without so perceiving things, one is nevertheless acting in a way that shows an insight into this underlying reality (see Schopenhauer 2005:135–43; Cartwright 2008: 296–301; Reginster 2012: 161–62, 166–70). But, as we have discussed, the state of one body is not one in which one actually experiences the mental states of others or is directly moved by their conditions in the way they themselves are. Rather, someone in that state would retain a distinction between herself and others, though she would view situations involving the well-being of others in a way that is not different in any significant way, aside from differential responses, from the way she views situations involving her own well-being. On this picture, there is no perplexity to be addressed by postulating an underlying reality in which oneself and others are not distinct. The idea of one body is not making an epistemic point about our access to the mental states of others, or a motivational point about how others’ conditions can directly motivate us, or a metaphysical point about there being ultimately no real distinction between oneself and others. Instead, it is making an ethi-

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cal point about how we should, ideally, sensitize the heart/mind so that it can extend its responses in certain situations already familiar to us to other situations involving other humans and things. Admittedly, Zhu Xi does embed the idea of one body in the framework of a single li 理 running through all things that differ in their endowment of qi 氣. But it is unlikely that he is led to this latter view through an attempt to address the question how the state of one body is possible, or that it is because he has the latter view that he puts forward the idea of one body. As we saw, the idea of one body combines different themes that have evolved over time and that reflect certain shared experiences, and Zhu likely has taken up these themes as something that also reflect his own life experiences, independently of his views on li and qi. At the same time, it is not uncommon for a thinker to embed his ethical ideas in the intellectual framework he works with, especially in the context of exchanges with students and associates or disputation with intellectual opponents. Given that Zhu does work with the framework of li and qi, it is understandable that he would embed the idea of one body within this framework. It need not follow that he is engaged in the exercise of seeking some foundational justification or metaphysical grounding of a proposed ethical ideal. In any instance, however we understand this linkage between these two aspects of his thinking, Zhu himself is emphatic that the linkage, and the framework of li and qi itself, need not be part of the internal perspective of someone in the state of one body. Thus, for Zhu, the state of one body is not one that can be characterized in terms of some general reflective beliefs one has, such as beliefs about the fundamental connectedness of all things with oneself through sharing a common li 理, or even beliefs about how one does not stand out in any significant way from others. Someone in that state need not have such reflective beliefs, and someone with such beliefs need not be in that state. Instead, the state involves a fundamental outlook on one’s place in the world that engages the whole person, not just behaviorally, but also the way one directs attention, one’s sentiments, and even one’s demeanor. We can, from the external perspective, describe that state, as well as the perspective of someone in that state, in certain ways, but these need not be the way that person would describe things from the internal perspective. Even if she would so describe things, it is not her having the corresponding beliefs that constitutes her being in that state. Also, someone in that state might describe her perspective in certain ways—a parent might say, for example, that her child’s life matters to her as much as or more than her own—and the viewpoint that is so conveyed might well be inseparable from her being in that state. But even if we say that such descriptions convey certain beliefs of hers, it is not because she has beliefs of this kind that she comes to have the outlook she has. Rather, her so describing her way of viewing things is itself an expression of her outlook, which engages her whole person in a way that goes beyond her having such beliefs. This outlook is an experiential state of existence that cannot be fully captured or conveyed by such descriptions, whether these descriptions are by an observer from the outside or by herself from the inside. For this reason, Zhu Xi and other later Confucians describe the idealized state of existence as a form of illumination or clear-sightedness, or ming 明. Even if this ideal-

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ized state can be described in terms of “understanding” (zhi 知), it is understanding of a higher form which they call “genuine understanding” (zhen zhi 真知), one that differs from understanding of the ordinary kind. An example they use is the way villagers react to news of a tiger approaching the village. A villager who has been attacked and injured by a tiger in the past would react in a way quite different from the others, not just in his behavior, but in his whole person including his feelings and sentiments, facial expression, and overall demeanor. Whatever description he might give of the situation involving the approaching tiger he can also share with the other villagers, and the latter can come to believe in what he says. But whatever beliefs they share with him, they will not be viewing the situation in the same way as this particular villager, whose outlook involves an experiential insight that they do not possess.9

5 Conclusion: Methodological Observations At the beginning of this chapter, I summarized an approach to the philosophical study of Chinese thought, a study that seeks to draw out the relevance of Chinese traditions of thought for our contemporary experiences and to build a linkage to contemporary philosophical discourse. An underlying assumption in such a study is that these traditions contain insights into human experiences of significance that are shared across cultures and times, insights that are also relevant to our own contemporary life. The approach I proposed builds the desired linkage through these shared human experiences. On this approach, we start from within a Chinese tradition and attend closely to the language used, the textual details, and the historical contexts, so as to approximate the perspectives of the Chinese thinkers. We then move outward from their perspectives, identifying the kind of human experiences reflected in their ideas that transcend the local and the temporal, and relate their ideas to our own contemporary experiences that are akin to theirs. Only at this point do we link up with contemporary western philosophical discourse, allowing for the genuine possibility that their perspectives might not fit easily into our contemporary philosophical conceptions. Instead, exploring their perspectives on their own terms might suggest interesting alternatives to perspectives commonly found in contemporary discussions, and might even help reshape the agendas of such discussions. In relation to Zhu Xi’s understanding of the idea of one body, our focus is on human experiences of significance that underlie his understanding of the idea and that are shared across times and cultures. These are experiences not specific to him and his followers but are shared more broadly within the Confucian tradition, hav This point is presumably part of what is conveyed by the idea that the deepest part of our ethical life has a dimension that goes beyond the theoretical or the rational and that eludes description by language. It involves a kind of experiential insight that has to be personally cultivated, going beyond the endorsement of what one has learnt. Schweitzer puts this point in terms of the mystical that lies at the limit of rationality (Schweitzer 2009: 107–11). 9

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ing evolved in the course of history up to his times. For this reason, we started by tracing the historical evolvement of the different dimensions of the idea from pre-­ Qin to early Song Dynasty, and when considering his own views on the subject, we bracket aspects of his views that are specific to him and his followers. In this manner, we approximate those aspects of his understanding of the idea of one body that bear on human experiences of significance that we also share, at times using contemporary examples to illustrate these ideas. Only at this point do we elaborate on his perspective in a way that links up with contemporary philosophical discourse, making sure that we do justice to his perspective in its own terms instead of attempting to fit it into contemporary philosophical conceptions. In relation to the sensitivity to harm involved in the state of one body, we showed how the Confucian perspective does not fit easily into certain contemporary conceptions of empathy, sympathy, and self–other merging. The terms used by the Confucians are syntactically different in a way that shows that the idealized kind of responses are directed to situations involving harm which can be to oneself as well as to others. Central to the idea of one body is the idea of no self which, in relation to this sensitivity, is a matter of responding to situations involving harm to others in a manner not significantly different—aside from considerations of differential responses—from responding to situations involving harm to oneself. Empathy understood in terms of perspective taking or having matching mental states is not part of what is involved in the state of one body, nor does this state involve the kind of third person perspective invoked by some to explicate the notion of sympathy. Also, the notion of oneness involved in the state of one body is a normative proposal concerning an enduring state of the heart/mind, as explicated by the idea of no self, unlike the notion of perceived oneness found in the literature on self–other merging, which concerns an experience of interpersonal unity in certain specific contexts that is empirically measurable. While these contemporary conceptions do not bear on the Confucian perspective, it does not mean that they are not relevant to our own contemporary understanding of responses to harm. What our discussion shows is only that the Confucian perspective is quite different from our own contemporary philosophical perspectives, and that it is important to engage in close philological, textual, and historical studies to understand the Confucian perspective on its own terms. Also, our ­discussion does not show that these contemporary conceptions do not bear on the Confucian perspective in some other way. What it shows is only that they do not bear on the way the Confucians conceptualize what, for them, constitute the idealized kind of responses to harm, which is compatible with the possibility that they might bear on the way the Confucians conceptualize the kind of responses to harm that are part of the self-cultivation process. For example, the idea of perspective taking might well bear on the notion of shu 恕 (reciprocity) when presented in its prescriptive form. Furthermore, some of these contemporary conceptions might bear on certain aspects of what the Confucians regard as the ideal kind of responses to harm, even if they do not describe the Confucian perspective. For example, the idea of perceived oneness might well be an appropriate description of the sentiments of someone responding to harm to others in the manner idealized by the Confucians,

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even though the Confucian idea of oneness is not about such sentiments, but about the absence of an emphatic self. Thus, the methodological approach illustrated by the study in this chapter is primarily about our understanding of the perspectives of Chinese thinkers on certain human experiences of significance that are shared across cultures and times. While our contemporary philosophical conceptions might describe our own perspectives on such experiences, there is no presumption that they also describe the perspectives of the Chinese thinkers. To understand their perspectives, it is crucial that we start with close philological, textual, and historical studies. It is possible that such studies will lead to the conclusion that some of our own contemporary philosophical conceptions indeed describe their perspectives, but this has to be the conclusion, not the starting point, of such studies.

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Lüshichunqiu 呂氏春秋. 1988. In Compiled Commentaries on the Annals of Lü Buwei 呂氏春秋 集釋, 4th edition, edited by Xu Weiyu 許維遹. Taipei 臺北: Shijie Shuju 世界書局. Mengzi 孟子 (Mencius). 1984. In A Modern Translation of and Commentary on the Mencius 孟子 譯注, 2nd edition, translated and commented by Yang Bojun 楊伯峻. Beijing 北京: Zhonghua Shuju中華書局. Following the numbering of passages, with book numbers 1A–7B substituted for 1–14. Mozi 墨子. 1975. In Mozi with Selected Comments 墨子閒詁, edited by Sun Yirang 孫詒讓. Taipei 臺北: Shijie Shuju 世界書局. References are by page numbers. Qian, Mu 錢穆. 1982. New Studies of Zhu Xi 朱子新學案, 5 vols., 2nd ed. Taipei 臺北: Sanmin Shuju 三民書局. (A comprehensive five-volume study of Zhu Xi’s thinking.) Reginster, Bernard. 2012. “Compassion and Selflessness.” In Nietzsche, Naturalism, and Normativity, edited by Christopher Janaway and Simon Robertson, 160–182. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Schopenhauer, Arthur. 2005. The Basis of Morality, 2nd ed., translated by Arthur B.  Bullock. New York: Dover Publications. (Originally published by George Allen & Unwin, 1915.) Schweitzer, Albert. 2009. Albert Schweitzer’s Ethical Vision: A Sourcebook. Edited by Predrag Cicovacki. New York: Oxford University Press. Shangshu 尚書. 1985. In The Chinese Classics, Volume III: The Shoo King, translated by James Legge. Reprint. Taipei 臺北: Nantian Shuju Youxiangongsi 南天書局有限公司. References are by page numbers. Shijing 詩經. 1986. In A Modern Translation of and Commentary on the Book of Odes詩經今譯今 注, translated and commented by Yang Renzhi 楊任之. Tianjin 天津: Tianjin Guji Chubanshe 天津古籍出版社. References are by ode and paragraph numbers. Shun, Kwong-loi. 1996. “Ideal Motivations and Reflective Understanding.” American Philosophy Quarterly, 33: 91–104. ———. 2014. “Resentment and Forgiveness in Confucian Thought.” Journal of East–West Thought 4.4: 13–35. ———. 2015. “On Anger—An Essay in Confucian Moral Psychology,” in David Jones & He Jinli, eds., Returning to Zhu Xi: Emerging Patterns within the Supreme Polarity. Albany: State University of New York Press. ———. 2016a. “Confucian Learning and Liberal Education.” Journal of East–West Thought 6.2: 5–21 ———. 2016b. “Studying Confucian Ethics from the Inside Out,” Dao 15.4: 511–532. ———. 2018. “On the Idea of ‘No Self.’” Proceedings and Addresses of the American Philosophical Association, 92: 78–107. Snow, Nancy. 1991 “Compassion.” American Philosophical Quarterly 28.3: 195–205. ———. 2000 “Empathy.” American Philosophical Quarterly 37.1: 65–78. Wang, Fu 王符. 1965. Discourses by a Hermit 潛夫論. Sibu beiyao 四部備要 ed. Taipei 臺北: Zhonghua shuju 中華書局. Wang, Maohong 王懋竑. 2002. A Chronological Record of the Life of Zhu Xi 朱子年譜. Wenyuange Siku Quanshu ed. (Intranet ver.) 文淵閣四庫全書內聯網版. Hong Kong 香港: Digital Heritage Publishing 迪志文化出版. (An authoritative chronological study of events in Zhu Xi’s life.) Wang, Yucheng 王禹偁. 2002. Xiaoxuji 小畜集. Wenyuange Siku Quanshu ed. (Intranet ver.) 文淵 閣四庫全書內聯網版. Hong Kong 香港: Digital Heritage Publishing 迪志文化出版. Wei, Ye 魏野. 2002. Dongguanji 東觀集. Wenyuange Siku Quanshu ed. (Intranet ver.) 文淵閣四 庫全書內聯網版. Hong Kong 香港: Digital Heritage Publishing 迪志文化出版. Xiaojing 孝經. 1965. In Commentary on and Explanation of the Classic of Filial Piety 孝經注疏. Sibu beiyao 四部備要 ed. Taipei 臺北: Zhonghua shuju 中華書局. Xun, Yue 荀悅. 1965. Using History as a Mirror 申鑑. Sibu beiyao 四部備要 ed. Taipei 臺北: Zhonghua shuju 中華書局. Xunzi 荀子. 1965. Sibu beiyao 四部備要 ed. Taipei 臺北: Zhonghua shuju 中華書局.

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Yao, Zhiyin 姚之駰. 2002. Supplement to A History of Eastern Han 後漢書補逸. Wenyuange Siku Quanshu ed. (Intranet ver.) 文淵閣四庫全書內聯網版. Hong Kong 香港: Digital Heritage Publishing 迪志文化出版. Yijing 易經. 1965. In Commentary on the Book of Change by Wang and Han 周易王韓注, commented by Wang Bi 王弼 and Han Kangbo 韓康伯. Sibu beiyao 四部備要 ed. Taipei 臺北: Zhonghua shuju 中華書局. Zhang, Zai 張載. 2002a. Awakening the Dim and Obscure 正蒙. In Zhang 2002b. ———. 2002b. Complete Works of Zhang Zai 張子全書. Wenyuange Siku Quanshu ed. (Intranet ver.) 文淵閣四庫全書內聯網版. Hong Kong 香港: Digital Heritage Publishing 迪志文化出 版. (Also included are the references to the Sibu beiyao 四部備要 ed., indicated as SBBY: Taipei 臺北: Zhonghua shuju 中華書局, 1965.) ———. 2002c. Western Inscription 西銘. In Zhang 2002b. ———. 2002d. Zhang Zai’s Explication of the Book of Change 橫渠易說. In Zhang 2002b. Zhu, Xi 朱熹. 1986. Sayings and Conversations of Zhu Xi Topically Arranged 朱子語類. Beijing 北京: Zhonghua Shuju 中華書局. ———. 2002a. Commentary on the Analects 論語集注. Wenyuange Siku Quanshu ed. (Intranet ver.) 文淵閣四庫全書內聯網版. Hong Kong 香港: Digital Heritage Publishing 迪志文化出 版. ———. 2002b. Commentary on the Mencius 孟子集注. Wenyuange Siku Quanshu ed. (Intranet ver.) 文淵閣四庫全書內聯網版. Hong Kong 香港: Digital Heritage Publishing 迪志文化出 版. ———. 2002c. Commentary on Zhang Zai’s Western Inscription 西銘解義. In Zhang 2002b. Wenyuange Siku Quanshu ed. (Intranet ver.) 文淵閣四庫全書內聯網版. Hong Kong 香港: Digital Heritage Publishing 迪志文化出版. (Also included are the references to the Sibu beiyao 四部備要 ed., indicated as SBBY: Taipei 臺北: Zhonghua shuju 中華書局, 1965.) ———. 2002d. Questions and Answers on the Analects 論語或問. Wenyuange Siku Quanshu ed. (Intranet ver.) 文淵閣四庫全書內聯網版. Hong Kong 香港: Digital Heritage Publishing 迪 志文化出版. ———. 2002e. Questions and Answers on the Mencius 孟子或問. Wenyuange Siku Quanshu ed. (Intranet ver.) 文淵閣四庫全書內聯網版. Hong Kong 香港: Digital Heritage Publishing 迪 志文化出版. Zhuangzi 莊子. 1965. Sibu beiyao 四部備要 ed. Taipei 臺北: Zhonghua shuju 中華書局. Zuozhuan 左傳. 1965. In Zuo’s Commentary on the Spring and Autumn Annals, with Editorial Comments by Du Yu 春秋左氏傳杜氏集解, commented by Du Yu 杜預. Sibu beiyao 四部備 要 ed. Taipei 臺北: Zhonghua shuju 中華書局. Kwong-loi Shun teaches at the University of California, Berkeley. He specializes in Chinese philosophy and moral psychology, and his main research is a m ­ ultivolume work on Confucian thought. The work starts with philological studies of early and later Confucian thought, then discusses methodological issues in transitioning from philological to philosophical studies, and then concludes with a philosophical study of Confucian moral psychology. He was president of the American Philosophical Association (Pacific Division) in 2017–2018.  

Chapter 20

Moral Cultivation: Gongfu – Cultivation of the Person Peimin Ni

1 Introduction Among learned scholars of the Chinese philosophical tradition, it is almost a consensus that the early masters of the Confucian tradition focuses not so much on constructing philosophical theories than on cultivating the person and living a moral life. During the Song–Ming periods, this learning on cultivation of the person was widely characterized as the learning of gongfu 工夫 (or 功夫, a.k.a. Kung fu). Originally meant “human labor” and “time-effort” required to do something (hence the term in its original form, 工夫, where 工 means labor), the term gongfu was used in expressions such as “how much gongfu is needed in constructing a road.” Later the term was extended to mean embodied abilities in doing things (for example, “a man with great gongfu”), methods of doing things (for example, “Buddhist gongfu,” “Daoist gongfu”), and manifestations of time-effort, ability, and method (for example, “the work shows gongfu in it”). Thanks to the popularity of movie stars such as Bruce Lee, Jackie Chan, and Jet Li, “gongfu” is now a term that needs no translation. Although it is somewhat unfortunate that the term is now narrowly understood as the martial arts, the martial arts can be used as a primary example of gongfu. As soon as we point out that gognfu can be used for other forms of art, such as the art of cooking can be called cooking gongfu, the art of dancing can be called dancing gongfu, people can understand how the art of living in general can be called gongfu, and why the neo-Confucians of the Song–Ming periods, including Zhu Xi, all unequivocally used the term to articulate Confucian learning. Since gongfu is what the Confucian learning is all about and the term permeates all of Zhu Xi’s writings, it should not be taken merely as one part of Zhu Xi’s P. Ni (*) Department of Philosophy, Grand Valley State University, Allendale, MI, USA e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2020 K.-c. Ng, Y. Huang (eds.), Dao Companion to ZHU Xi’s Philosophy, Dao Companions to Chinese Philosophy 13, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-29175-4_20

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teachings next to other parts, but as a leading cord with which to grasp Zhu’s entire system. Only in grasping this cord can we see clearly why Zhu Xi selected the Four Books as the most fundamental works of the Confucian tradition, what he meant by the cosmic principle (li 理), and where he differs from other influential thinkers of his time.

2 The “Four Books” and Gongfu One of Zhu Xi’s greatest impacts on Confucianism is his establishment of the “Four Books”— the Great Learning, the Analects, the Mencius, and the Zhongyong 中庸 (which I translate as “Hitting the mark constantly”) as the primary canons of the Confucian tradition, replacing the supreme position held for centuries by “the Five Classics”—the Book of Songs, the Book of Documents, the Book of Rites, the Book of Changes, and the Spring and Autumn Annals. He believes that the primary focus of the Four Books reflects the most essential purpose of the Confucian learning, namely cultivation of the person. Accordingly, his recommendation of the Four Books reflects his assessment about how one should study Confucianism, how the books should be read, and his thoughtful commentaries of the Four Books are inseparable from his own teachings of gongfu. For Zhu Xi, the Four Books should be considered canonical in the Confucian tradition because they contain vivid records of how the sages such as Confucius, Mencius, Master Zeng 曾子, and Zisi 子思 conducted their lives, and the works are saturated with the sages’ direct teachings about cultivation of the person, along with valuable reflections by the recorders. The texts illustrate the main feature of Confucianism, that is, Confucian teachings are not theoretical discourses aiming at constructing some sort of philosophical system, but ways that can transform humans to be exemplary persons (junzi 君子), and ultimately, sages (shengren 聖人). Zhu Xi says, “the Analects as a book is none other than about the essentials of how to practice, retain, nurture and cultivate [virtues]; and the book of Mencius is none other than about the basics of how to gain embodied experiences and growth [of virtues]” (Zhu X. 1999a: [19] 28). “The sages have said tens of thousands of words, and they are none other than about this one thing. One should flare up this heart-­ mind, push it forward with courage and vigor, and do it whole-heartedly with no effort spared!” (Zhu X. 1999a: [8] 13). Zhu Xi thoughtfully places the Four Books in a particular order. The Great Learning is placed first because it provides a comprehensive framework for the Confucian cultivation. By offering the eightfold itinerary of the learning, namely “interact with things, extend knowledge, make the will sincere, rectify the heart-­ mind, cultivate the person, regulate the family, put the state in order, and bring peace to all-under-heaven,” the Great Learning enables one to have a clear picture of what one is doing, and can assess one’s learning process accordingly. “The Great Learning is like a travel itinerary, with everything arranged in order. Having read it, people of today should get on to the road, and be clear that in order to reach the

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destination, where one should get today and where one should get tomorrow” (Zhu X. 1999a: [14] 3). He places the Analects and the Mencius next, as they are both “main courses of the meal” (Zhu X. 1999a: [19] 1). Although both books are about the gongfu of moral cultivation, they complement each other with different emphases and characteristics. As one of Zhu Xi’s students puts it, “[the Analects of] Confucius teaches one about how to put gongfu (efforts) in actual affairs, whereas Mencius teaches one how to put gongfu (efforts) in [cultivating] one’s heart-mind” (Zhu X. 1999a: [19] 3). The Zhongyong is placed last as the finale. What is distinctive about the Zhongyong is that in addition to adding more detailed processes of gongfu practice, it links gongfu with benti 本體, the original substance of human being as well as the entire cosmos. This feature makes the Zhongyong look more metaphysical than any of the other three. Interestingly, Zhu Xi does not say that it thereby provides a theoretical justification for the Confucian learning, but instead, he says that at its core the Zhongyong contains “a method of the heart-mind” that was transmitted from the ancient sage King Yao, through other sage kings, Shun, Yu, down to Confucius, and then to his disciple Zeng Shen, who in turn passed it down to Confucius’ grandson Zisi, the alleged author of the Zhongyong. The word “method” clearly indicates that the metaphysical theory is also a gongfu teaching, and the very core of the gongfu! The method teaches one about how to connect one’s heart-mind with the great original substance of the cosmos and its most straightforward Way, and thereby elevate a secular human life to be united with tianli 天理, or the principle of heaven. This “principle of heaven” is Zhu Xi’s signature term, which most clearly identifies his own theory that is imbedded in his commentaries of the Confucian canons, making the canons a vehicle through which Zhu Xi teaches his own gongfu.

3 Interacting with Things and Extending Knowledge Within the Confucian tradition, Zhu Xi is known for being more “rationalistic” than most others. His emphasis on gewu zhizhi 格物致知, interacting with things and extending knowledge, makes him appear like the European philosophers in the “age of reason” (the seventeenth to eighteenth centuries). Upon a closer look, however, one shall realize that his gewu zhizhi is different from the knowledge sought after by philosophers of the modern West. When talking about knowledge, philosophers of the modern West mean primarily true representation of facts, which, in the words of Hume, is about “what is the case.” When Zhu Xi talks about knowledge, he means recognition of what is good (shan 善), or “what ought to be the case.” “Knowing is to recognize what things ought to be” (Zhu X. 1999b: Mengzi Zhangju, [5] 11). More importantly, for him real knowledge must be more than just the “learning of the mouth and the ears.” Using modern philosophical language, we might say that such knowledge must be more than just “true justified beliefs.” One may intellectually believe something to be true but psychologically resist it and is not willing to

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act on such beliefs. For Zhu Xi, this is not enough. In order to truly know something, one has to engage in gongfu practice. He says, in learning, “lectures are surely indispensable, but the more important part is to follow up with one’s own gongfu practice. If one were to only care about talking, then a day or two would have everything covered. It is the gongfu that is difficult” (Zhu X. 1999a: [13] 11). Because of this, the way to learn Confucian teachings should be different from reading theoretical discourses. “In reading the Analects and the Mencius,” Zhu Xi says, One should not merely aim at understanding the theory and the meanings of the texts. One should make careful reflection and put the teachings into practice…. If a reader can relate the sages’ sayings to his own person and examine them through his own embodied practice, his effort will surely not be spent in vain. Every day will bring him the result (gong 功) of the day. If one only takes the books as collections of sayings, it would be merely the learning of the mouth and the ears. (Zhu X. 1999d: 3)

Here “the learning of the mouth and the ears” means a superficial understanding that one only gets the words but not their true meaning. Reading the Confucian classics as mere theories is no different from trying to learn piano by reading the instruction manual. Without actual respective practice, one will not only miss the intended benefit of reading the texts, but also unable to gain true understanding of the texts in the first place. Only through practice can one get to the “aha!” moment in which the words become internalized and “embodied” understanding, turning intellectual knowledge into one’s dispositions. These two features, namely knowing what is good and embodied knowing, are exactly characteristic of gongfu knowledge: Knowing how to play piano requires one to be aware of what one ought to do, and this awareness must be stored no less in one’s muscles as one’s dispositions to act properly than as information in one’s brain. Putting gewu zhizhi within the eightfold itinerary program, Zhu Xi emphasizes that they are the beginning stages of Confucian learning. Among the eight stages, “interact with things is the beginning of knowing, and making the will sincere is the beginning of action” (Zhu X. 1999a: [15] 38). This is Zhu Xi’s famous view that knowing is prior to acting, which is often put in contrast with Wang Yangming’s 王 陽明 (1472–1529) famous thesis of the “unity between knowing and acting.” One subtle point, however, is to understand what “prior” means here. One may question whether in this case “prior” refers to a temporal sequence, or a logical order. Taking knowing prior to acting as a temporal sequence appears to be problematic, because it does not seem necessary for a person to be aware of what one ought to do before one can do it. Sophie could be unaware that she needs to play piano before she started to do it upon the request from her parents. Nor does it seem necessary that one has embodied knowing as one’s dispositions and abilities prior to one’s engagement in doing the relevant activity. If Sophie had to know it is good for her to play piano and know how to play piano before she actually started to do it, she would probably never be able to learn it. Is it more plausible to read “knowing prior to acting” as a logical order? Taken it this way, knowing X becomes a condition logically necessary for performing X. One might say that before Sophie knew it was good for her to play piano and was able to

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make music out of the piano, she was, strictly speaking, not “playing piano,” but “obeying her parents and hitting the keyboard.” In other words, it was her knowing that transforms what she does. Theoretically speaking this can be very interesting and complicated. It will lead to the whole fields of metaphysics of causation and metaphysics of events. One particular part of it, for instance, is what some have called “Cambridge changes,” where, for example, Socrates’ death causes (and is in a sense “prior to”) his wife’s becoming a widow (although nothing “real” about her is changed). Reading Zhu Xi’s own words, I tend to agree with Zhu Hanmin’s assessment that by “knowing is prior to acting,” Zhu Xi means the order of gongfu practice (Zhu H. 2005: 32). It is neither simply a temporal order nor simply a logical order, but a causal order that entails both. Although strictly speaking Sophie cannot play piano before she knows how to do it, she can, and indeed must, “interact with” the keyboard, which “is the beginning of knowing” how to play piano. This interpretation will help resolve another difficulty: Though interacting with things is part of the knowing process, interacting with things is itself “acting.” This apparently contradicts Zhu Xi’s view that knowing is prior to acting. Zhu Xi says, “Knowing and acting must constantly go side by side, just like without foot, eyes cannot allow you to walk; and without eyes, foot cannot let you see” (Zhu X. 1999a: [9] 1). “The clearer you know, the more solidly you act; the more solidly you act, the clearer you know. Neither one is dispensable. It is like walking with two moving legs, one after another, and you will gradually reach your destination. If one side is weak, you cannot move forward a single step” (Zhu X. 1999a: [14] 52–53). Looking at the thesis of “knowing is prior to acting” and the thesis of “knowing and acting must constantly go side by side” from a logic point of view, they do appear to contradict each other, but looking at them as gongfu instructions, they are like saying “you have to know how to drive before you can get onto the road” and “you have to learn how to drive by driving”— one can do it first in a wide open space and gradually get onto the roads with more traffic. The contradiction disappears because the former is stressing the importance of a learning process, a step necessary for becoming a gongfu master, and the latter is about the importance of hands-on learning, a method necessary for the success of learning. The order of the eight stages also helps Zhu Xi to express his view that action is the purpose of knowing. Indeed, from the gongfu perspective, knowing is never for the sake of knowing per se. It is always for the sake of acting. Zhu Xi says, “Talking about extending knowledge and putting into action, … extending knowledge should come first in terms of priority, yet in terms of importance, putting into action is more important” (Zhu X. 1999a: [9] 1). In a time when Zhu Xi’s philosophy is mostly interpreted as a metaphysical justification for Confucianism, this point is a good reminder that his ultimate concern remains the same as his early predecessors, namely cultivation of the person. Within this tradition, seeking for metaphysical understanding or justification is never taken as an ultimate aim. In substance, then, Zhu Xi’s point of “knowing prior to acting” is a basic gongfu instruction that one must first learn in order to be good at something. It must be disentangled from misconceptions, such as an implausible epistemological ­assertion

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that one can know something without interacting with it, or as a way of life which honors bookish knowledge more than actual practice.

4 Primary Learning and Great Learning For Zhu Xi, learning is basically knowing, although as we said before, it is different from acquiring pure intellectual knowledge. For him, knowing is “prior to” acting, involves acting, and ultimately is for the sake of acting. This can be further examined through reviewing his ideas about the two major stages of learning: primary learning (xiaoxue 小學) and great learning (daxue 大學). In the “Preface” to his commentary on the Great Learning, Zhu Xi brings up the contrast. He writes, During the heydays of the Three dynasties (i.e., the Xia, the Shang, and the Zhou), the ways of teaching became increasingly comprehensive, and from palaces to village neighborhoods nowhere without people engaged in learning. Every child at the age of eight, whether a child of lords and nobles or of ordinary people, would get into primary learning, during which the child would be taught the manners of sprinkling and sweeping, responding and answering, advancing and receding, as well as the art of ritual, music, archery, charioteering, writing, and arithmetic. When the child reached the age of fifteen … he would enter the stage of great learning (adult education), during which he would be taught the way to engage in in-depth study of the li 理 (cosmic principle), to rectify the heart-mind, to cultivate oneself, and to regulate others. (Zhu X. 1999b: Daxue Zhangju, 1)

The manners listed under primary learning, namely “sprinkling and sweeping, responding and answering, advancing and receding,” correspond to what the followers of Zixia 子夏 (a disciple of Confucius) were described as doing in passage 19.12 of the Analects. The so-called “manners of the junior” were later used as another way of referring to “primary learning.” In the Analects passage, Ziyou 子游 (another disciple of Confucius) ridiculed Zixia for teaching his students these tedious “tips of branches,” “left without the roots,” but Zixia responded with the point that cultivation must go through a gradual process, from the basic to the advanced. To this passage, Kang Youwei 康有為 (1858–1927) comments, [The school of Zixia] lasted for about a hundred years, and its way spread to Xihe (West of the Yellow River), but we don’t hear about any great achievement from its followers. Is this perhaps because it stuck too rigidly to the rules? … Among Ziyou’s successors, there were Zisi and Mencius. They are the mainstream of the Confucian Way. By developing the theory that human nature is the mandate of heaven and the Way is to follow this nature, they pointed directly to the original heart-mind. Is not this what “getting to the root” is all about? Comparing the two in this way, then Ziyou’s ridicule of Zixia is not mistaken. However, beginning students should be engaged in learning the easier and the nearby, such as the names of objects, basic mathematics, reading the Songs, and learning music. Song dynasty scholars wanted their beginning students all engaged in learning about embodying the original heart-mind as human nature and the mandate of heaven; that is mistaken. [From this perspective,] then Zixia’s remarks were realistic. (Kang 1984: 290)

Whether Kang is right for other Song dynasty scholars or not, he does not seem to be fair to Zhu Xi. Not only did Zhu Xi not ignore the need to have a beginning

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stage like Ziyou did, he used a significant portion of the “Preface” to his commentary of the Great Learning to justify the beginning stage within Confucian learning. Together with his student Liu Qingzhi 劉清之 (?–1190), he even composed a textbook titled Primary Learning (Xiaoxue 小學), specifically for enriching the curriculum. He evidently put much thoughts into the relationship between practicing manners of the junior and seeking advanced spiritual understanding. The Classified Conversation with Master Zhu (Zhuzi Yulei 朱子語類) alone has four places that mentioned a sleepless night Zhu Xi had in a Buddhist temple, when he heard cuckoo chirping while he was thinking hard on the Analects passage on Zixia and Ziyou. What puzzled him was that, while Zixia was saying that one should follow a gradual process of learning, starting from the tedious “sprinkling and sweeping, responding and answering” to more grandeur spiritual understanding, his much admired predecessor Cheng Yi 程頤 (1033–1107) said that “the tips are no different from the root,” because they are all “interconnected through the same cosmic principle (li 理),” which “admits no degrees of big or small” (Zhu X. 1999a: [49] 16). At first, Zhu Xi took Cheng Yi’s words literally and concluded that doing “sprinkling and sweeping, responding and answering” was no different from seeking deep spiritual understanding. But he felt uneasy because Cheng Yi also acknowledged that “when exemplary persons teach others, they follow an order,” which seems to contradict the sayings about “no difference between tips and roots” or “admits no degrees of big or small.” Upon further reflection, he realized that the “no difference” applies only to the sages, who are, because of their supreme abilities, able to bring the beginning and the ending all into the present. For ordinary learners there is still a process to go through. The activities of “sprinkling and sweeping, responding and answering” belong to “what is within form” (xing er xia 形而下), but the cosmic principle within these activities that makes them good is formless (xing er shang 形而上). What is sought in advanced study of spiritual understanding is formless, but the activity of seeking, studying, is still within form. Comparing the two forms of activities, there is a difference, but comparing the cosmic principle shared by both kinds of activities, there is no difference. Ordinary people have to start from the small, the nearby, and the coarse in order to reach the big, the far beyond, and the refined. If one were to disregard the order, ignoring the nearby in seeking for the far beyond, staying low while peeking the high up, not only would one be unable to get what he wanted, he would have missed the entirety of the cosmic principle right there in the minute details. This is why although the cosmic principle admits no degrees of big or small, one must still follow the given order in teaching others. (Zhu X. 1999f: Lunyu Huowen, [24] chapter 12, p. 13)

Zhu Xi relates his view to Confucius’ saying of “studying what is below in order to reach upward” (Analects, 14.35). It can be appreciated through comparing two subtly different views. Commenting on the same passage in the Analects, Xie Liangzuo 謝良佐 (1050–1103) says, It is not necessary to reach upward in everything. One might as well work on small things. Although there is a difference in size between giving up one piece of gold to others and giving up the whole world to others, the core is the same. If I am generous, giving up the

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world would be like giving up one piece of gold. If I am stingy, giving up one piece of gold would be like giving up the entire world. And like walking on the edge of a thousand feet high cliff, one would have fear, but walking on a flat ground, one feels secure. If I can get rid of the fear, then even on the edge of a thousand feet cliff, I would be just like walking on a flat ground. Now with regard to sprinkling and sweeping, if I do not put my heart-mind in it, how can I sprinkle and sweep? With regard to responding and answering, if I do not put my heart-mind in it, how can I respond and answer? This is why Master Zeng paid special attention to the display of his deportment and manner, to the rectification of his countenance, and to the use of his words and tones.1 The ancients wanted to nurture their sincerity out of sprinkling and sweeping, responding and answering. (Zhu X. 1999g: [10A] 16–17)

Zhu Xi is quick in pointing out Xie’s problem: Although generosity is the same, there is a difference between being easy in giving up one piece of gold and being difficult in giving up the world. Although being not fearful is the same, there is an order of where one should practice it first, on the flat ground or on the edge of a cliff. If a learner were to follow Xie’s teaching, he would be reaping success before overcoming difficulties, and unwilling to study what is below but fantasizing reaching upward. Not to mention that if one were to limit one’s learning to the scope of sprinkling and sweeping, responding and answering, and advancing and receding, there would be no need for interacting with things, extending knowledge, cultivate the person, and regulating the family. (Zhu X. 1999f: [24] chapter 12, p. 15)

Another interesting relevant contrast is brought up by the book of Zhongyong, which says, one can either gain understanding (ming 明) from being sincere (cheng 誠), or become sincere through understanding. The two represent two methods of cultivation. The former is called the method of xing 性 (following natural tendencies), for it is the method of simply being sincere, to follow one’s own good natural tendencies and hold on to them. The latter is called the method of jiao 教 (using education), for it is through learning and gaining understanding that one becomes sincere to one’s true nature. The final result is the same, but the methods differ (chapter 21). Commenting on the relevant statements in the Zhongyong, Zhu Xi says, “Where no virtue is not realized and no brightness not shining, this is the sage’s virtue. Possessed simply because it is one’s nature, it is the Way of heaven. Understanding what is good first and subsequently able to realize one’s goodness, this is the learning of the worthy. Entering the gate through education, this is the Way of human” (Zhu X. 1999b: Zhongyong Zhangju, chapter 21, p.  19). Acknowledging the possibility of the Way of heaven, but emphasizing that only sages can travel this Way, Zhu Xi is clearly recommending the Way of human and cautioning people that one should not mistake exceptions as the norm and run the risk of skipping the stage of primary learning.

 This came from 8.4 of the Analects, where Master Zeng is quoted saying “There are three things that people of high station (junzi 君子) should consider particularly important in their pursuit of the Way: in showing their deportment and manner, they keep away from rudeness and impertinence; in regulating their countenance, they keep close to trustworthiness; and in using their words and tones, they stay far from vulgarity and impropriety.” 1

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5  Benti (Substance) and Gongfu Zhu Xi is most well-known for his theory of li 理, cosmic principle, so much so that his theory is named as the theory of li (lixue 理學). The theory is certainly metaphysical, as it provides an account about what the real world ultimately follows. His gewu zhizhi 格物致知—“interact with things and extend knowledge”—may be said to be a teaching about thoroughly revealing the cosmic principle (qiongli 窮理) inside of everything. He maintains that to interact with things is to thoroughly reveal the cosmic principle. Having interacted with something means that the cosmic principle in it is brought to light. However, it would be misleading to read these views simply as a metaphysics backed up by some kind of vague empiricist epistemology. His “knowing” is not merely being cognitively aware of the cosmic principle as a metaphysical fact, but to awaken it, to let the bright cosmic principle (what ought to be the case, the good) shine and become irresistible. This is a process of gongfu cultivation. Through this, things that block the brightness of the heart-mind are removed and the heart-mind becomes united with the cosmic principle (Zhu X. 1999a: [20] 2). There is no more baggage, no cover-up, no fogginess, no distraction. It is a “jingjie 境界,” an existential state of being and way of living. The point can be illustrated through reviewing an interesting turn in Zhu Xi’s early and later interpretations of a statement in the book of Zhongyong, which says, “The moment before joy and anger, grief and pleasure arise is called zhong 中 (center); having arisen and always hit the proper measure is called he 和 (harmony)” (Chapter 1). What particularly captivated him was the meaning of the states “before emotions arise” (weifa 未發) and after they “have arisen” (yifa 已發). In his early years, his teacher Li Tong 李侗 (1093–1163) tried to guide him to gain an embodied experience of the “pre-arisen” state by meditating in a tranquil state of the heart-­ mind, but for years he could not succeed. After Li Tong passed away, he started to have contacts with Zhang Shi 張栻 (1133–1180), a great scholar from the Hu– Xiang 湖湘 school, who had much experience in working on the “post-arisen” to detect and recognize the sprouts (chashi duanni 察識端倪) of one’s human-­ heartedness (ren 仁). Inspired by his exchange with Zhang Shi, Zhu came to the conclusion that “in a lifespan from childhood to become old and die, a person will go through various states such as being silent or talking, being in motion or resting, but overall, it is all ‘post-arisen.’ The so-called pre-arisen is just ‘has not arisen yet’” (Zhu X. 1999e: 38). Even when one is sleeping, the heart-mind is still in a “post-­ arisen” state. The true “pre-arisen” refers to xing 性, human nature. The whole heart-mind belongs to “post-arisen.” Only the human nature behind the “post-­ arisen” is silently still and never changes. This is why it is called “zhong 中”—center. If this is the case, then the only way to access the “pre-arisen” would be to work on what “have arisen,” examine the daily functions of the heart-mind, and cultivate oneself through “detecting and recognizing the sprouts of emotions and then nurture them.” This method of cultivation, known as “detecting and recognizing first and nurture afterwards,” is clearly related to his particular view about human nature.

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Interestingly, shortly after he made that conclusion, Zhu Xi changed his mind. This was partly due to his practice and partly due to his further reading and reflection. Following the above-mentioned method of cultivation, he found his heart-mind like “being in the middle of huge waves, unable to find a moment to pause and rest” (Lu 1999: [1] 13). Upon reading Cheng Yi’s relevant commentary on the Zhongyong again, he came up with a new conclusion about the subject. He gave up the thesis that the heart-mind belongs to the realm of the “post-arisen” and replaced it with the thesis that the heart-mind links up the “pre-arisen” and the “post-arisen.” An alternative way of stating this point is that the heart-mind links up one’s nature (xing 性) and emotions (qing 情). While one’s nature is the body or substance (ti 體), emotions are its functions (yong 用). Accordingly, he gave up the old method of “detecting and recognizing sprouts,” and replaced it with a new method of cultivation known as “zhujing 主敬,” holding reverent attention. He realized that although in a person’s lifespan from childhood to being old and die, the person’s heart-mind is in a constant flow of motion, its states can still be divided into two kinds—states when thoughts have arisen and states when thoughts have not arisen. Before one encounters things and when thoughts have not arisen, the heart-mind is relatively silent and still. He says, You cannot look for something that has not arisen yet, and you cannot re-arrange what have already arisen, but if your everyday gongfu of reverent nurturing is adequate, then in the pre-arisen state your heart-mind will be like tranquil water and bright mirror, and in the post-arisen state, there will be no emotion misfired. This is the gongfu ability of daily life. (Zhu X. 1999c: [24] Zhongyong, Part 1, p. 28)

Reviewing this turn, we find it to be both a turn of metaphysical theory and a turn of gongfu method, and the former is both inspired by the latter and becomes significant because of the latter. As a turn of metaphysical theory, he changed his view that the heart-mind is in the “post-arisen” realm and human nature is in the “pre-arisen” realm to the view that the heart-mind links up both. In the new theory he nicely arranges human nature (which embodies the cosmic principle of heaven) and emotion, substance and function, tranquility and motion, all within his understanding of the heart-mind. The significance of this understanding is manifested in his gongfu method derived from this theory. This gongfu method differs from Li Tong’s in that he shifted tranquility (jing 靜) to being reverent (jing 敬)—although homophonic the latter is a very different concept. It is impossible to have absolute tranquility because, as long as the heart-mind is alive, one cannot be dead tranquil. Reverence is in fact also a state of emotion. It is a special emotion in that it is calm and makes one able to appreciate things as they are or should be. His method differs from Zhang Shi’s in that he does not wait until emotions to have arisen to detect and recognize their sprouts. In other words, by adjusting his metaphysical theory, he was able to synthesize Li Tong and Zhang Shi’s gongfu methods while avoid their extremes: On the one hand, he discovered a way to cultivate the tranquility of the “pre-arisen” while avoid the extreme of trying to find the “pre-arisen” beyond any state of the heart-mind; on the other hand, he discovered a way to find the origins of

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emotions within the heart-mind while avoid the extreme of losing his tranquility in the middle of turbulent emotions. This unity between the metaphysical (or more precisely in its Chinese term, xing er shang 形而上—what is beyond form) and the gongfu method is often referred to as the unity between benti 本體 (literally “original body” but here it means the human nature imparted from heaven) and gongfu.

6 Zhu Xi and Lu–Wang In the previous section, we noted that a subtle alteration in Zhu Xi’s earlier and later views of the heart-mind led to a significant change of the gongfu method he recommends. This change triggered a lot of discussions, among which was a question about how his later views are related to the views of Lu Xiangshan 陸象山 (1139–1193) and Wang Yangming, which were often grouped together as “the school of the heart-mind” (xinxue 心學). Wang Yangming wrote an article titled “Master Zhu’s Final Conclusions Arrived in His Later Years,” suggesting that during the later years Zhu Xi’s views turned toward being similar to his. “I feel fortunate that my ideas are not in conflict with Master Zhu’s, and I am also glad that Master Zhu apprehended before me what our heart-mind have in common” (Wang 1935: [1] 108). Wang himself also quoted Zhu in articulating his views that the benti of the heart-mind is supremely good, and the liangzhi 良知 or “pre-reflective conscience” in me is something that, as Zhu puts it, “no one but I alone can perceive” (Zhu X. 1999b: Daxue Zhangju, chapter 6, p. 6; Chan 1989: 476). However, there are important differences. Among them the most essential one is: Lu and Wang maintain both that “human nature is the cosmic principle” and that “the heart-mind is the cosmic principle.” Zhu Xi, on the other hand, accepts the former but rejects the latter. He thinks that the heart-mind cannot be taken as identical to the cosmic principle (although they can be unified through human effort). For Wang Yangming, the cosmic principle is a source of change and creativity, but for Zhu Xi, the cosmic principle is more like pattern (actually some scholars, such as Stephen C. Angle and Justin Tiwald, choose to translate li as “pattern”), or laws of nature and norms of human life. It is inert (i.e., it does not in itself leads to any change), but determines the goodness of everything. “What Master Zhu says about interact with things is to find the cosmic principle in things,” says Wang Yangming. “This is to look for the so-called definitive cosmic principle in this and that thing and this and that event. By using one’s own heart-mind to look for the cosmic principle in things and events, he separates the heart-mind and the cosmic principle” (Wang 1935: [1] Instructions for Practical Living, part 2, p. 37). Wang believes that “the heart-mind is that which is able to see, to hear, to speak, and to move…. This is human nature, the cosmic principle. Only because of this human nature, can there be productivity. The cosmic principle of productivity of the human nature is called human-heartedness” (Wang 1935: [1] Instructions for Practical Living, part 1, p. 30). Zhu Xi, however, would argue that although in his understanding the cosmic

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principle is inert, the human heart-mind is filled with qi 氣, vital energies, so the heart-mind is not motionless. When the qi follows the cosmic principle, life becomes good, or else it goes astray. He would say that Lu and Wang’s theory could be very dangerous because the heart-mind in their teachings contains no differentiation between the good and the bad. Zhu Xi criticizes Lu for rendering his theory of human nature no different from that of Gaozi, for he makes no distinction between whatever comes to the heart-mind from the principle of heaven. Zhu says, “We Confucians cultivate human-heartedness, appropriateness, ritual propriety, and wisdom; what he cultivates, however, are merely the abilities to observe, listen, speak, and act. There is no differentiation, no rights and wrongs in his visual field of ambiguous things and events” (Zhu X. 1999a: [126] 26). Zhuzi Yulei records that when Lu Xiangshan died, Zhu Xi went to mourn Lu with his disciples. After tears were shed, he kept a moment of silence and then said: “What a pity! Now Gaozi is dead!” (Zhu X. 1999a: [124] 20).2 But as Huang Zongxi 黃宗羲 (1610–1695) points out, Lu differs from Gaozi in an important way. Lu believes that “the heart-mind is the cosmic principle,” whereas Gaozi believes that principles of right and wrong are learned from the outside (Huang 1999: [2] 57–58).3 Similarly, one cannot say that Wang Yangming would not differentiate rights and wrongs. He thinks that the heart-mind itself possesses liangzhi, the pre-reflective conscience, which enables a person to tell rights and wrongs. Much of his gongfu was taught to remove the dirt and dust that blocks liangzhi. On the other hand, it does not seem fair to say that Zhu Xi had separated the cosmic principle entirely from the heart-mind. His favorite metaphor is that everything imparts the cosmic principle just like all waters contain reflections of the moon. If this is the case, then his “interact with things” is just a way of revealing the cosmic principle that is both external and internal of the heart-mind. Wang Yangming himself also acknowledged that to cultivate oneself, a person must “go through the mill of life activities” (Wang 1935: [1] Instructions for Practical Living, part 1, p. 11). When the disagreements in metaphysical views are translated into gongfu methods, they became a difference in general orientation or emphasis. While Wang Yangming claims loudly that the principle is already inside of everyone, he does not deny that one must engage in human affairs to make the principle shine through, and while Zhu Xi claims loudly that one must engage in interacting with things to reveal the principle of heaven, he does not deny that the principle is imbedded in us as human nature!  This record may not be reliable, since next to the passage the recorder Hu Yong 胡泳 put a note, saying that it is obtained from another person named Wen Qing 文卿. This kind of note is not seen in the other passages. The note indicates that even the recorder was not sure that the story is true. The point of quoting this here, however, is not dependent on whether it is true or not. It is rather to show that Lu and Wang’s view was conceived to resemble that of Gaozi. 3  This may actually be Huang’s teacher Liu Zongzhou’s 劉宗周 (1578–1645) view, since the title of this book is “Mencius Explained by My Master.” 2

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In a descriptive theory—a theory that simply aims at describing reality, such a difference may be said to make little difference. In the realm of gongfu practice, however, it does matter a lot. But scholars have different characterizations of the difference. Some follow Zhu Xi’s own description that, with regard to the teaching in the Zhongyong that one should “honoring the virtuous nature” (zun dexing 尊德 性) and “engaging in inquiry and study” (dao wenxue 道問學), Lu relied too much on the former, and not nearly enough on the latter. “The problem is that he then focused solely on gongfu practice but abandoned lectures entirely” (Zhu X. 1999c: [60] 6). In comparison, Zhu Xi himself puts much more emphasis on reading and learning through lectures than Lu and Wang. But this does not mean that he would go to the other extreme. Actually the key point of Zhu Xi’s method of gongfu cultivation is jing 敬, being reverent or paying reverent attention. This is exactly “honoring the virtuous nature.” When talking about the method of reading, Zhu Xi also famously said that one should “spend half day for quiet sitting and half day for reading” (Zhu X. 1999a: [116] 34). Although statements like this might, as Chan Wing-tsit 陳榮捷 points out (Chan 1989: 256), be specifically targeted to the needs of the persons he was speaking to, they nevertheless show that according to Zhu, the result of reading is contingent on one’s mental disposition. In other words, gongfu practice and reading cannot be sharply separated. Mou Zongsan 牟宗三 and Cai Renhou 蔡仁厚 characterize the difference as one between a horizontal system and a vertical system. According to Mou, Zhu Xi and Cheng Yi belong to the horizontal system, a system that orients toward obtaining the cosmic principle from exterior objects or events so that the subject may eventually follow the principle in practical life and let one’s actions be manifestations of the principle. Mou further identifies Zhu’s morality as a heteronomous morality, a morality that relies on a “pan-cognitivism,” trying to derive moral principles cognitively from what is external. Lu and Wang, on the other hand, belong to a vertical system. Instead of going from the internal to the external horizontally, it goes retrospectively and directly to the great original centered substance (daben zhongti 大本中體). This retrospection is to go backward deeply to the true self so that one can thereby have an embodied recognition of it. This vertical path is associated with an autonomous morality, a morality in which one is a self-determining subject. The horizontal path directs one toward “post-arisen” learning, the vertical path directs one toward the “pre-arisen” substance.4 Stephen Angle and Justin Tiwald characterizes the difference as a contrast between Direct Discovery and Indirect Discovery. They described Wang Yangming’s gongfu method as the Direct Discovery model, which holds that, using correct techniques, one can directly discover the principle inside oneself, and Zhu Xi’s as Indirect Discovery model, which holds that since we do not have direct access to the principle inside, we have to go through a detour (Angle and Tiwald 2017: 135–40).

 See Mou (1996), particularly [1] 46–60, [2] 239–40, [3] 102; and Cai (1993: 597). See also Lin (1996: 341–44). 4

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Japanese scholar Okada Takehiko puts the difference between Zhu Xi and Wang Yangming in still another way: “Speaking from the relationship between benti (original substance) and gongfu, we can say that Master Zhu’s way focuses mainly on gongfu, and Yangming’s way focuses more on benti. Standing on the ground of benti to unify benti and gongfu, this is Yangming’s way of thinking. His main point of taking implementing one’s pre-reflective conscience as the core of learning is exactly in this” (Okada 2016: 56–57). Here we might as well use a quote from Wang Yangming to illustrate the main orientations of the two: Those who are gifted with sharp intelligence can get into understanding directly from the original source. The benti of a human being is originally bright and clean, with no blockage—a primary centrality that belongs to the “pre-arisen.” For the gifted sharp people, as soon as they understand their benti, the understanding becomes gongfu. There is no more gaps between the self and the other, or between the inside and the outside. The less gifted people cannot be free from the mentality formed through habit, and their benti is consequently blurred. Therefore, they should be taught to work diligently on generating the good and remove the bad in their ideas and intentions. Once their gongfu effort is adequate and debris are thoroughly removed, their benti will be completely bright. (Wang 1935: [1] Instructions for Practical Living, part 3, p. 98)

From this we may say that the real difference between Zhu Xi’s and Wang Yangming’s gongfu is that they have different orientations. Wang’s is more for the gifted, while Zhu’s is more for the average people. This goes well with what Zhu himself put in making the distinction between “the Way of heaven” fitted for the sage and “the Way of human” fitted for the “worthy,” which we discussed near the end of Sect. 4. What Wang did not mention in the above quote though, is that both gongfu orientations have their respective merits and limitations or liabilities. For the average people, using Wang Yangming’s approach and going directly to the original source runs the risk of falling astray, mistaking one’s erroneous ideas as pre-reflective conscience. While following Zhu Xi’s way is generally safer in the sense that one is less likely committing horrendous wrong-doings, it has the liability of keeping a person in the process of interacting with things and in reading, frustrated and eventually becomes ill, like what happened to Wang Yangming when he initially tried to follow Zhu’s teaching to extend his knowledge through “interacting with things” (in his case, it was bamboo). Indeed, as Mou Zongsan points out, the contrast is similar to the debate between the “sudden enlightenment” and “gradual enlightenment” in Buddhism (Mou 1996: [2] 239–40). The path recommended by those who taught gradual enlightenment is to perform the normal practices such as reading the scripts, accumulating good deeds, and doing sitting meditation. This will avoid falling to the bad karma, although it will hardly enable a person to reach nirvana. The teachings of sudden enlightenment have the opposite advantage and limitation. It may enable a person to see one’s “true Buddha nature” and get an immediate enlightenment, although it also runs the risk of being misinterpreted and misused as excuses to indulge in whatever the heart-mind desires. Of course, no theory can be immune

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from misinterpretation and misuse, yet their likelihood in one way or another is a liability of the relevant theory.

7 Holding Reverence and Thoroughly Revealing the Cosmic Principle For a gongfu for the average people, Zhu Xi developed very detailed and structured instructions about gongfu practice, too much for the current chapter to cover, except for capturing what is distinctive about his gongfu method, which boils down to “holding reverence” (zhujing 主敬) and “thoroughly revealing the cosmic principle” (qiongli 窮理). As we explained, Zhu Xi notices that even though one’s heart-mind is always in a perpetual flow, there are calm moments in which thoughts and emotions have not arisen, and moments in which thoughts and emotions have arisen. The former are the moments in which the heart-mind is relatively silent and still. Instead of rectifying one’s thoughts and emotions after they have arisen, it is more proactive to nurture the tranquility of the pre-arisen state, when one is free from disturbances and has an easier access to the original centeredness of one’s nature. This may be called “nurture in the state of [pre-arisen] tranquility” (jing shi hanyang 靜時涵養). Once thoughts and emotions have arisen, it is important to investigate and recognize whether they all “hit the proper measure.” Are the thoughts unbiased, fair, and appropriate? Are the emotions appropriate reactions to what is happening around? Is one able to love what one ought to love and despise what one ought to despise? This is called “investigate and recognize in the state of [post-arisen] activity” (dong shi chashi 動時察識). The key to the success of both, however, is to maintain a reverential attentiveness throughout the pre-arisen tranquil states and the post-arisen active states (jing guan dongjing 敬貫動靜). If the two categories mainly tell people what need to be done in each of the states, reverential attentiveness is distinctive of Zhu Xi’s gongfu method about how to do these. Reverence, as Angle and Tiwald points out, is to “do two things at once: first, we are to concentrate on a task or object of inquiry with a certain kind of respect, which—second—undercuts selfish intentions, including ones that are easy to overlook or misapprehend” (Angle and Tiwald 2017: 149). In other words, it simultaneously does something to oneself and does something to an object. It is an attitude of the subject, and yet it is an attitude toward something. As a subjective attitude toward something, it is dedication of oneself with full attentiveness, respect, taking the object seriously as something important by the means of emptying the self, letting the object speak, without allowing biases and selfish intentions to distract one’s attention. This, in Zhu Xi’s view, marks a difference between the Confucian gongfu method and the Daoist’s gongfu method. Confucians, as described in the Analects 6.2, are “reverent in their attention and easygoing in their manner of conduct,” yet

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“Lao Zi was one of those who are merely devoted to easygoing in conduct, and consequently, unable to be easygoing” (Zhu X. 1999a: [30] 8). This might be an appropriate place to briefly mention one popular misunderstanding about Zhu Xi. Zhu Xi and Cheng Yi are often blamed for the slogan “brighten the Principle of heaven, and eliminate human desires” (Zhu X. 1999a: [12] 13), which was allegedly responsible for what Lu Xun 魯迅 (1881–1936) criticizes as a form of “cannibalism” as it suffocates human desires. Even though Cheng–Zhu’s views on desire was disseminated through simplified slogans, when read contextually, one will realize that their views are much more sophisticated and reasonable than they are commonly perceived. Cheng and Zhu indicated numerous times that, by “eliminating human desires,” they do not mean to have absolutely no desire. Zhu Xi says “Human desires are also generated from the principle of heaven. Though the desires are human, within them there is principle of heaven” (Zhu X. 1999a: [13] 3). What he calls for elimination are the desires for extravagance. “As for the desire to eat when hungry, the desire to drink when thirsty, how can we live without those desires!” (Zhu X. 1999a: [94] 77). More importantly, Cheng and Zhu’s call for eliminating human desires is not an ethical norm required as a responsibility for everyone, but a gongfu instruction recommended for cultivating sagehood. As required by reverence, one has to open oneself up and listen to the voice of things. This is how reverence naturally leads to “interaction with things” and thereby to reveal the cosmic principle. People usually take this “reveal” merely in an epistemological sense, i.e., in the sense of gaining cognitive awareness and understanding of the principle. This is certainly part of it, but not all. For Zhu Xi, as we explained before, knowledge must be put into action. Zhu Xi often adds a word “shi 實” in front of the word li, cosmic principle, as “shili 實理.” When used as an adjective, shi means an emphasis that the principle is actual, solid, not illusory or abstract. This emphasis is needed to make a contrast between the Confucian li against the Buddhist view about reality, which is “emptiness” or “nothingness.” “The principles of us Confucians are all actual (shi), and the principles of the Buddhists are all empty” (Zhu X. 1999a: [124] 14). “We Confucians take human nature as actual (shi), the Buddhists take human nature as empty” (Zhu X. 1999a: [4] 14). Shi can also be understood as a verb, meaning to realize, actualize, solidify, or implement. The reason that exemplary persons are “concerned [about what is not seen], anxious [about what is not heard], and cautious in solitude, is to thereby solidify (shi) the actuality (shi) of the principle (li) …. The overall point of this book [the Book of Zhongyong] is to reveal the true face of the actual principle (shili), wanting people to solidify (shi) this principle and make no mistakes. Therefore, although the book has lots of words, its core is nothing but one term—to make oneself sincere (chengzhi 誠之)” (Zhu X. 1999f: Zhongyong Huowen, part 2, pp. 51–53).5 In this sense, shili means to manifest the metaphysical benti through gongfu practice in actual human life.

 The expression “making oneself sincere” comes from the book of Zhongyong where it says, “Sincerity is the Way of heaven. To be sincere is the way of human” (chapter 20). 5

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This is also what “to be sincere” to one’s true nature means—it is no other than to shi (actualize) one’s true nature. This point was used by Zhu Xi to criticize the tendency of those who merely try to gain intellectual understanding of the theories and fall short of applying the teachings into practice (Zhu X. 1999a: [101] 2–3). The expression is thereby itself a demonstration of the unity of benti (the principle) and gongfu, or to put it differently—the unity between the heart-­mind and the cosmic principle (xinli heyi 心理合一) must be manifested in the practice of actualizing the principle. In this sense the afore-mentioned “maintaining a reverential attentiveness throughout the pre-arisen tranquil states and the post-­arisen active states” applies also to “revealing (both knowing and actualizing) the cosmic principle.” Here the unity between the heart-mind and the cosmic principle naturally leads to the requirement of cultivating the body so that the knowledge becomes embodied dispositions to act appropriately. Not only must the heart-mind have thoughts and emotions hit the proper measure when they arise, the body must respond with proper rituals and manners. Holding reverence is then translated into terms of concrete advice about ritual performance, such as to “‘Sit as if you were impersonating an ancestor. Stand as if you were performing a sacrifice.’ The head should be upright, the eyes looking straight ahead, the feet steady, the hands respectful, the mouth quiet and composed, the bearing solemn—these are all aspects of reverent attention” (Zhu X. 1999a: [12] 21).

8 Conclusion Drawing from the works of early Confucians, such as the Four Books, Zhu Xi synthesized the gongfu teachings of his predecessors and, with his particular interpretation and theoretical construction, developed them into a coherent gongfu system. This is a system that has its own manual—the Four Books primarily, and its own metaphysics—the cosmic principle, around the revelation of which the specific gongfu methods are designed and unfold. As the cosmic principle is reflected in everything, the gongfu begins with interaction with things. While recognizing the possibility of revealing the principle through interaction with anything, big or small, Zhu Xi stresses the importance for the average people to follow a gradual process from the most primary, as basic as “sprinkling and sweeping,” to that which is more advanced and profound, such as reading books and investigating one’s own heart-­ mind. Zhu Xi recognizes that, although a sage may need no such a process to let his emotions hit the proper measure all the time, most people would still have to learn first before they can become a gongfu master. With regard to the proper method of cultivation, Zhu Xi came up with his most characteristic gongfu instruction: always use jing 敬, reverential attention, whether in nurturing the state before thoughts and emotions arise, or in investigating and recognizing one’s mental activities after thoughts and emotions arise. This method is distinctively Confucian as it embodies the spirit of human-heartedness. Different from the Buddhist gongfu method of emptiness and the Daoist gongfu method of

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natural spontaneity, reverent attention requires one to be sensitive to, respect for, and interact with things so that the principle inherent in everything is revealed both in the sense of being made manifest and being made actual. Meanwhile, it allows the subject to clean one’s selfish desires and let the cosmic principle to shine through one’s own manifested nature. The final ideal result of such cultivation would be exactly what the book of Zhongyong describes: to enable a person to hit the proper measure all the time. The characteristics of Zhu Xi’s theory of gongfu explains why, despite of the fact that many distinguished scholars and ambitious political leaders favored Wang Yangming’s theory instead, Zhu Xi’s theory remained to be the most popular and most influential one in the Confucian tradition ever since his time. His theory is for the average people, easier to follow, more structured, with concrete helpful instructions. Although like any theory, its merits come with latent liabilities, it is unfair to blame Zhu Xi alone for the problems of misinterpretations and misapplications. But even here, the theory’s being carried too far is more like a chronical illness that is not life-threatening, and not a madness that would lead to big scale disasters.

References Analects. 2017. In Understanding the Analects of Confucius—A New Translation with Annotations. By Peimin Ni. Albany: State University of New York Press. Angle, Stephen C., and Justin Tiwald. 2017. Neo-Confucianism, A Philosophical Introduction. Cambridge: Polity Press. (A lucid introduction to the philosophies of Neo-Confucian thinkers in English language.) Cai, Renhou 蔡仁厚. 1993. “Master Zhu’s Theory of Gongfu 朱子的工夫論.” In Collected Essays of the International Symposium on Zhu Xi Study 國際朱子學會議論文集, vol. 1, edited by Zhong Caijun 鍾彩鈞 and executive editor Zhang Jilin 張季琳 (581–598). Taipei 臺北: Zhongyang Yanjiuyuan 中央研究院. Chan, Wing-tsit. 1989. Chu Hsi, New Studies. Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press. (A collection of 33 essays on various aspects of Zhu Xi’s life and thought by one of the world’s leading authorities on Zhu Xi.) Huang, Zongxi黃宗羲. 1999. Mencius Explained by My Master 孟子師說. In Siku Quanshu 四 庫全書, Wenyuange 文淵閣 copy, Hong Kong 香港: Dizhi Wenhua Chuban Corp. Limited 迪 志文化出版有限公司 and Chinese University of Hong Kong. Classics Part, The Four Books section. Kang, Youwei 康有為. 1984. Annotation of the Analects 論語註. Beijing 北京: Zhonghua Shuju 中華書局. Lin, Yongsheng 林永勝. 1996. “The Current State of Research on Neo-Confucian Theories of Gongfu within the Chinese Scholarship 中文學界有關理學工夫論之研究現況.” In Yang Rubing 楊儒賓 and Zhu Pingci 祝平次, eds., Theories of Qi and Gongfu in Confucianism 儒 學的氣論與工夫論. Taipei 臺北: Taiwan University Press 臺灣大學出版社. Lu, Longqi 陸隴其. 1999. Casual Notes on Reading Zhu 讀朱隨筆. In Siku Quanshu 四庫全書, Wenyuange 文淵閣 copy, Hong Kong 香港: Dizhi Wenhua Chuban Corp. Limited 迪志文化 出版有限公司 and Chinese University of Hong Kong. Masters Part, Confucianism section. (A collection of reading notes written by a leading expert on Zhu Xi’s thought in the Qing dynasty)

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Mou, Zongsan 牟宗三. 1996. The Substance of Heart-mind and the Substance of Nature 心體與 性體. Taipei 臺北: Zhengzhong Shuju 正中書局. (A systematic articulation of the Song–Ming Neo-Confucianism by one of the most sophisticated contemporary Chinese New Confucian philosopher.) Okada, Takehiko 岡田武彥. 2016. Wang Yangming and Late-Ming Confucianism 王陽明與明末 儒學. Chongqing 重慶: Chongqing Chubanshe 重慶出版社. Wang, Yangming 王陽明. 1935. Complete Works of Wang Yangming 王陽明全集. Taipei 臺北: zhengzhong shuju 正中書局. Zhu, Hanmin 朱漢民. 2005. “The Relation between Knowledge and Action in Zhu Xi’s Theory of Gongfu 朱熹工夫論的知行關系.” Journal of Hunan University (Philosophy and Social Sciences edition) 湖南大學學報(社會科學版) 19.4: 29–32. Zhu, Xi 朱熹. 1999a. Classified Conversations of Master Zhu 朱子語類. In Siku Quanshu 四庫全 書, Wenyuange 文淵閣 copy. Hong Kong 香港: Dizhi Wenhua Chuban Corp. Limited 迪志文 化出版有限公司 and Chinese University of Hong Kong. Masters Part, Confucianism section. ———. 1999b. Collected Commentaries on the Four Books 四書章句集註. In Siku Quanshu 四庫 全書, Wenyuange 文淵閣 copy. Hong Kong 香港: Dizhi Wenhua Chuban Corp. Limited 迪志 文化出版有限公司 and Chinese University of Hong Kong. Classics Part, Four Books Section. ———. 1999c. Imperial Edition of the Collected Works of Master Zhu 禦纂朱子全書. In Siku Quanshu 四庫全書, Wenyuange 文淵閣 copy. Hong Kong 香港: Dizhi Wenhua Chuban Corp. Limited 迪志文化出版有限公司 and Chinese University of Hong Kong. ———. 1999d. On Methods of Reading the Analects and the Mencius 讀論語孟子法. In Siku Quanshu 四庫全書, Wenyuange 文淵閣 copy. Hong Kong 香港: Dizhi Wenhua Chuban Corp. Limited 迪志文化出版有限公司 and Chinese University of Hong Kong. Classics part, Four Books section, Grand Collection of the Four Books—Grand Collection of Commentaries of the Analects. ———. 1999e. Preface to the Old Account of Centrality and Harmony 中和舊說序. In Siku Quanshu 四庫全書, Wenyuange 四庫全書 copy. Hong Kong 香港: Dizhi Wenhua Chuban Corp. Limited 迪志文化出版有限公司 and Chinese University of Hong Kong. Masters Part, Confucianism section, Mr Huang’s Daily Transcriptions 黃氏日抄 by Huang Zhen 黃震, vol. 35. ———. 1999f. Questions and Answers on the Four Books 四書或問. In Siku Quanshu 四庫全 書, Wenyuange 文淵閣 copy. Hong Kong 香港: Dizhi Wenhua Chuban Corp. Limited 迪志文 化出版有限公司 and Chinese University of Hong Kong. Classics part, Four Books section. ———. 1999g. Subtle Meanings of the Analects 論語精義. In Siku Quanshu 四庫全書, Wenyuange 文淵閣 copy. Hong Kong 香港: Dizhi Wenhua Chuban Corp. Limited 迪志文 化出版有限公司 and Chinese University of Hong Kong. Classics part, Four Books section, Subtle Meanings of the Analects and Mencius. Peimin Ni is a professor of philosophy at Grand Valley State University, Michigan, USA.  His research interest is in the area of Chinese and comparative philosophy. Ni is a former president of the Association of Chinese Philosophers in America and former president of the Society of Asian and Comparative Philosophy.  

Chapter 21

Zhu Xi’s Ideal of Moral Politics: Theory and Practice Diana Arghirescu

Governing and providing service to the people: this is what I have long valued. Hiding myself: since I was young, I did not want this. Several difficult years of frost and dew, And already, my white hair is hanging down. I dig a well at the base of the Northern mountain, And I cultivate a field aside the Southern stream. The world is so vast, I’m an old man, where can I go? Intimate feelings, Gan huai 感懷. (The poem is quoted from the Collected Works of Zhuwengong Huian (1) (Huian xiansheng Zhuwengong wenji [1] 晦庵先生朱文公文集(一)), 4 (Zhu 2002, vol. 20: 358–59). Also quoted in Yu Ying-shih’s The Historical World of Zhu Xi, vol. 2 (Yu 2003: 57). All translations from classical and modern Chinese are the author’s.)

1 Introduction This analysis of Zhu Xi’s political thought is an attempt to argue for two main points.1 First, he was a profound and creative Neo-Confucian political thinker. Through his commentaries on the Four Books, Zhu sheds new light on Confucian and Mencian ancient political thought and gives them a whole new significance within the political and social context of his time. Second, to the extent possible

 Classic studies on Zhu Xi’s thought include: Schirokauer 1960, 1975, 1978, Tillman 1982.

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D. Arghirescu (*) Department of Philosophy, Université du Québec à Montréal, Montréal, QC, Canada e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2020 K.-c. Ng, Y. Huang (eds.), Dao Companion to ZHU Xi’s Philosophy, Dao Companions to Chinese Philosophy 13, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-29175-4_21

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given his modest position in the bureaucratic hierarchy and the context of his time,2 Zhu Xi valued what he considered his duty as a civil servant and was committed politically to actively putting into practice his vision of good governance in accordance with the political worldview of his School of principle (li xue 理學), which finds its source in the teaching of his Northern Song Masters,3 particularly that of the Cheng brothers. This study focuses on Zhu’s commentaries on the Four Books (Sishu zhangju jizhu 四書章句集注) (Zhu 2002, vol. 6), but also refers to the Family Rituals (Jiali 家禮) (Zhu 2002, vol. 7), Conversations of Master Zhu (Zhuzi yulei 朱 子語類) (Zhu 2002, vols. 14 and 17), Reflections on Things at Hand (Jinsilu 近思 錄) (Zhu 2002, vol. 13), and Collected Works of Zhuwengong Huian (Huian xiansheng Zhuwengong wenji 晦庵先生朱文公文集) (Zhu 2002, vols. 20 and 21). Far from being inactive and retreating into a solitary metaphysical confinement (“Hiding myself: since I was young, I did not want this [yinlun fei suqi 隱淪非素 期],” he declares in the poem quoted above), Zhu Xi was devoted to developing the principles of his moral politics and finding a way to implement them himself. In this chapter, I examine the foundations and specific topics of his political theory, and I propound the thesis that the elaboration and implementation of his theory started with the three memorials he prepared in 1163 for his first meeting with the emperor Xiaozong 宋孝宗 (r. 1162–1189), when he tried to persuade the emperor that his learning provided best practices for good governance, and continued with his active effort to train disciples and improve the situation of the people in his local Southern communities, when he served as a government official. My argument builds on these memorials and on Zhu’s commentaries on the Four Books, which he considered as incorporating the highest level of Neo-Confucian learning. I argue that Zhu Xi elaborated a theory of moral politics grounded on the central notion of the principle of coherence (li 理), which his school is named after, and articulated around two complementary and correlative models of morality, the morality of impartiality and the morality of care. In this context of Zhu’s moral politics, the translation “principle of coherence” or “coherence principle” for the term li is etymologically justified: lat. cohaerentia “organic order, structure” emphasizes the quality of constituting a unified whole, and lat. principium “source, foundations” has a moral resonance, exactly as does li. Translating li as “the coherence” disregards the strong moral connotation of this notion for Zhu Xi. Translating it as “the principle” acknowledges this moral dimension, but ignores the meaning of li as “organic structure” bestowed by heaven-earth. These components of the li according to Zhu are discussed below (see Sects. 3.3 and 4.1). First, the Sects. 2 and 3 suggest that the major philosophical source of Zhu Xi’s political thought is his perception of the function of the whole “heaven-earth (tian di 天地)” as model and norm not only of the perfect human life but also of political life and good government (Hsiao 2011: 536). As Zhu’s School of principle consid-

 See Chan (1989: 61–89); also Schirokauer (1960).  Zhou Dunyi 周敦頤 (1017–1073), Cheng Hao 程顥 (1032–1085), Cheng Yi 程頤 (1033– 1107), Zhang Zai 張載 (1020–1077), Shao Yong 邵雍 (1011–1077). 2 3

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ers that the functioning of heaven-earth is governed by the unique coherence ­principle of heaven (tian li 天理), the latter is also regarded as the fountainhead of an ideal government. Second, in Sect. 4, I examine Zhu Xi’s specific public policies based on these two models, both of which are rooted in societal communitarianism, individual interdependency, and the practice of two moral qualities, being humane (ren 仁) and sense of duty (yi 義), which for Zhu, are the hallmark of good governance. In his Second Memorial of Chui gong Hall (Chui gong zouzha er 垂拱奏劄二) addressed to the emperor Xiaozong, he stresses the importance of being humane and sense of duty in the political context (Zhu 2002, vol. 20: 633). Furthermore, I suggest that the process of building and practicing his moral-political view involved two phases: an initial period, during which Zhu placed at the center of his moral politics the need for the emperor’s support, a political premise that arises from the Mencian idea of “getting the support of the sovereign for practicing the dao (de jun xing dao 得君行 道)” (Zhu 2002, vol. 6: 277, under Mengzi jizhu)4; and a later stage, during which Zhu Xi focused on local leadership and learning, on the political importance of training Southern Song local community leaders, and on implementing policies promoting the well-being of the peasantry. He implicitly emphasizes these two stages of his life in the poem Intimate feelings, Gan huai 感懷 (see the motto prefacing this chapter). Both are also embodied in the ancient articulation “nei sheng 內聖 and wai wang 外王” of Zhuangzi 莊子 (chapter “Tianxia 天下”), which illustrates the unity of the “way of being a sage inwardly and a king outwardly.” Yu Ying-shih stresses that this articulation perfectly describes the spirit of Song learning, and that during the Northern Song revival of Confucianism, Cheng Yi regarded the classic Daxue as embodying this formula (Yu 2003: 26–54). Yu Ying-­ shih also thinks that, during the renewal of Confucianism under the Song, the interpretation of this articulation witnessed two phases: a first phase, before the School of principle was founded by the Cheng brothers, when the two correlatives were inseparable, and a second phase of their separation after the foundation of the School. In Yu Ying-shih’s opinion, the School of principle constitutes “a creative movement of the study of neisheng” (Yu 2003: 59). However, it should not be forgotten that initially, these two aspects were inseparable. This study acknowledges their initial unity, as well as the fact that Zhu’s political thought prioritizes the dimension of wai wang, “being a king outwardly.” Therefore, this facet is here addressed in priority, without losing sight of its initial intimate connection with nei sheng, “being a sage inwardly.”

 On this particular topic, see also Yu (2003: 54).

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2 Specific Topics of Zhu Xi’s Political Philosophy: The Inward–Outward (nei–wai內–外) Paradigm Faithful to Mencius’ political ideas, in Mengzi jizhu 孟子集注, Zhu shares Mencius’ admiration for the ideal way of governing exemplified during the three ancient dynasties of Xia 夏, Shang 商 and Zhou 周 by their respective founders, the sage kings Yu 禹, Tang 湯, and Wen 文 and Wu 武 (see Zhu 2002, vol. 6: 417, 339, under Mengzi jizhu). Zhu Xi further develops Mencian political ideas in the particular context of his time, and of his School of principle. In what follows, I illustrate that in his political philosophy, Zhu is resolute in his adherence to the correlative inward–outward (nei–wai). Using this paradigm as a theoretical tool enables him to present holistically and systematically the political notions examined below as comprising these two interwoven, complementary dimensions.

2.1 The Importance of People (ming wei gui 民為貴) The first significant Mencian political idea endorsed by Zhu Xi in Mengzi jizhu is that “the people are important (ming wei gui)”5 (Zhu 2002, vol. 6: 447). For him, this is so because, even if the people are farmers of low status (wei jian 微賤), “people are the root of the country (guo yi min wei ben 國以民為本); the altars of the soil and grain serve to establish the people, and the honorable status of the sovereign depend on both” (Zhu 2002, vol. 6: 447). Therefore, while apparently of insignificant status, the people as root are of paramount importance as the foundation of the sovereign’s high status, therefore of the order of the state. To illustrate this idea, Zhu Xi quotes Fan Zhongyan 范仲淹 (989–1052) and the ancient Book of Documents (Shujing 書經), according to which “the people are the root of the state, therefore, a root solid secures its stability” (Zhu 2002, vol. 6: 272–73, under Mengzi jizhu). Zhu Xi thus stresses the organic character of the relation between sovereign (rulers) (jun zi 君子) and people of humble status (xiao ren 小人), as a relationship mutually supportive, of reciprocal exchange and aid: “without the humble people, the sovereign starves; the humble people without the sovereign live in chaos; . . . they are like the farmers and potters who exchange millet and pots with a view to mutually helping each other (xiangji 相濟), and not to hurting each other reciprocally (xiang bing 相病)” (Zhu 2002, vol. 6: 314–15, under Mengzi jizhu). It  This is one of the main political ideas of Confucianism. For a twentieth century innovative interpretation of this notion by Xu Fuguan 徐復觀 (1902–1982), a distinguished member of the group of Contemporary New Confucians (dangdai xin rujia xuezhe 當代新儒家學者), see Arghirescu (2018). Xu Fuguan adopts Mencian political idea that “the people are important (ming wei gui)” (Mencius 7B.14) as a non-developed dimension of the “initial democratic spirit of Chinese culture (zhongguo wenhua zhong yuanyou de minzhu jingshen 中國文化中原有的民主精神).” He sees in this ancient notion an incipient source of the democratic idea of “rule by the people,” which he says was distorted by the autocratic regime. 5

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can be said that, in this context, Zhu Xi perceives the role of the sovereign as the functional (yong 用) and external (wai 外) dimensions of the state. The people as root represent its substantial (ti 體) and internal (nei 內) dimensions. Zhu Xi also emphasizes the mutual character of this relationship in terms of the complementarity between those working with their heart-minds, that is those who govern (lao xin zhe zhi ren 勞心者治人) and are nourished, and those working with the force (li 力) of their bodies, that is those governed, who nourish themselves and pay taxes (Zhu 2002, vol. 6: 314–15, under Mengzi jizhu).

2.2 The Sovereign’s Heart-Mind (xin 心) Obviously, the concept of heart-mind (xin) is another essential idea that Zhu uses as the basis for his political thought. The previously mentioned correlation highlights the sovereign’s heart-mind as the driving force behind governance. Because the sovereign works with his heart-mind, this naturally suggests that, in order to be able to govern well, he needs to firstly rectify his heart-mind (zheng qi xin 正其心), namely to make his intentions genuinely sincere (cheng qi yi 誠其意), free from pretense and deceit. This prerequisite of good governance is a central idea of the classic Great Learning (Daxue 大學).6 However, the sovereign’s heart-mind is only one element upon which good governance depends. Its correlative is the people’s heart-minds, which the sovereign and his officers must win (de min xin 得民心).7 Zhu Xi points out that a natural consonance needs to be established and cultivated between the sovereign and the people: “the great protect the small, the small serve the great; this is the natural feature of the coherence principle,” i.e., of heaven (Zhu 2002, vol. 6: 262, under Mengzi jizhu). Zhu presents this relation as natural, as an inherent replication of the relations within nature, between natural entities. In other words, the sovereign and his officers hold and execute moral authority and political power, while the people are the foundation and the source of this power, as all political power must be exercised ultimately for their benefit. For this reason, in Zhu’s view, good governance requires that the sovereign and his officers “win the heart-­ minds of the people (de qi xin 得其心),” i.e., that their government has the kind of impact that moves people’s heart-minds. Consequently, winning the heart-minds of the people, that is to say, ensuring that the people love their superiors (min qin ai qi shang 民親愛其上) (Zhu 2002, vol. 6: 273, under Mengzi jizhu) as the sovereign and officers love their people (Zhu 2002, vol. 6: 272, under Mengzi jizhu), is another key political motif, also flowing from the perception of the people as root of the state.

 See Daxue zhangju, jing 大學章句, 經 (Zhu 2002: [6] 17). Zhu Xi also points out this idea in his Lunyu jizhu 論語集注 19.12 (Zhu 2002: [6] 235). 7  See Zhu Xi, Mengzi jizhu, 7B.14, 1A.3, 7A.14 (Zhu 2002, vol. 6: 447, 249, 430). 6

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2.3 The Kingly Way (wang dao 王道) From Zhu’s perspective, the idea of winning people’s heart-minds is also the gateway into the practice of the kingly way (wang dao), i.e., the model of good governance established by the first kings. This model involves several stages set out hereinafter. According to Mengzi jizhu, perfect governance starts with winning the people’s heart-minds. In practice, before perfect governance there is good governance. The first level of the latter involves good policies, which Zhu Xi terms “rules and prohibitions that control the outside” (Zhu 2002, vol. 6: 430, under Mengzi jizhu). These aim to nourish the people well, to show compassion for them, to establish government granaries for them. More precisely, explains Zhu by making reference to the ongoing famine relief, a major socio-economical problem of his time, “in years of abundance, cereals are collected, and during years of starvation they are distributed. Assistance is delivered during famine, suffering and diseases are alleviated. Thus, people love their superiors and when the latter are in danger, the people rescue them, as sons and younger brothers protect their fathers and elder brothers” (Zhu 2002, vol. 6: 273, under Mengzi jizhu). At this stage, the government “creates wealth for its people (de min cai 得民財), that is, the people are provided with access to adequate resources essential for life, and so is the government (bai xing zu er jun wu bu zu 百姓足而君無不足)” (Zhu 2002, vol. 6: 430, under Mengzi jizhu). However, this foundational stage is only the external side or surface of good governance. Zhu Xi lengthily elaborates on its holistic multidimensionality. After the first step, which consists of nourishing and warmly dressing the people, the next level is inner and comprises providing education, i.e., teaching the people to cultivate filial piety towards one’s parents and to love and respect one’s elder brothers (xiao ti 孝悌), so that everyone loves one’s kinsmen, respects their elders and works on their behalf (Zhu 2002, vol. 6: 250, under Mengzi jizhu). Education, Zhu Xi stresses in his commentary on Mencius, “is morality, harmony through rituals, and is used for exploring the heart-mind” (Zhu 2002, vol. 6: 430, under Mengzi jizhu). Thus, it is only by reaching this educational stage that the sovereign wins the people’s heart-minds, i.e., “the people neither abandon their loved ones nor fail to defend their sovereign” (Zhu 2002, vol. 6: 430, under Mengzi jizhu). For Zhu Xi, the perfect illustration of this level is the action of “the sage Shun, who sent his officer Qi 契 as Minister of Instruction to teach people human relationships (ren lun 人倫)” (Zhu 2002, vol. 6: 316, under Mengzi jizhu). Moreover, Zhu Xi stresses, this governance through instruction means not imposing external rules on people, but guiding everyone to experience one’s inner nature bestowed by heaven, which everyone can lose due to one’s laziness, and stimulating them to follow vigilantly, without negligence, what they have already received: “Each human being follows its natural law: in other words, everyone has an authentic nature (xing 性) bestowed by heaven that observes the immutable moral rules (yi 彞). However, without education, this slips away because of one’s laziness and is lost. For this reason, the sage put in place officers in order to teach human relationships through following what everyone has already received from heaven” (Zhu 2002, vol. 6: 316, under Mengzi

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jizhu). And Zhu describes clearly the goal of this education: “Shun told Qi: those who do the work, you make them work; those who come and join us, you welcome them; those evil, you transform them into being righteous, those dishonest, you transform them into being honest; you assist them so they can follow this path, and find by themselves their authentic nature. And you treat them with even more kindness, so they can continue to be vigilant and do not become careless and lose their authentic nature” (Zhu 2002, vol. 6: 316, under Mengzi jizhu). These stages must occur in a well-defined and continuous sequence, because, Zhu Xi explains, “if food and clothes are insufficient, people don’t have the time to study ritual and the sense of duty (li yi 禮義); people kept warm and well fed, but without education, are no different from wild animals” (Zhu 2002, vol. 6: 316, under Mengzi jizhu). Accordingly, in his view, providing this education is necessary as a basis for the next stage of the kingly way, which involves fully developing upon this educational foundation all the details of “the legal institutions and the regulations in accordance with hierarchical status (fa zhi pin jie 法制品節). The final stage of the kingly way involves accomplishing the highest level of wealth and of mutual assistance (cai cheng fu xiang 財成輔相). Therefore— Zhu Xi concludes—influencing and guiding the people (zuo you min 左右民) is the fulfilment of the kingly way” (Zhu 2002, vol. 6: 316, under Mengzi jizhu). Thus, the perfect level of the kingly way of government entails an integrated political practice, which involves developing the full potential of all inward (education) and outward (agriculture and political institutions) dimensions.

2.4 Being Humane (ren 仁) Being humane (ren) is another central notion in Zhu’s political thought. All stages of the kingly way of governing require first, that the sovereign’s and his officers’ heart-minds really possess the quality of being humane, and second, that they rely on it in their political actions. “Putting into practice the quality of being humane with the help of virtue, Zhu Xi stresses, is something that comes inwardly from the sovereign’s heart-mind, and spreads to the outside; in this case, none of his actions lacks the quality of being humane” (Zhu 2002, vol. 6: 286, under Mengzi jizhu). Both, the real presence of the quality of being humane within the sovereign’s heart-­ mind, and its concrete implementation as the foundation of his political action are the pre-conditions of putting into effect the kingly way. This is because, when this quality is present inwardly and outwardly, notes Zhu Xi, “the officers love the people, and the people love them in return” (Zhu 2002, vol. 6: 272, under Mengzi jizhu). He also makes clear that when the quality of being humane is present in the sovereign’s governing, he will easily and continuously find the skilled and devoted officers who are constantly required at the higher levels of government: “To distribute riches to the people, this is a small kindness. To teach good thinking to the people, even if this is a concrete way to love the people, it also has its limits and does not last long. Only when Yao found Shun and Shun found Yu, can it be said that the

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world found competent people. Their kindness is big, their teaching endless, this is so-called being humane” (Zhu 2002, vol. 6: 316, under Mengzi jizhu). Conversely, Zhu stresses in the same paragraph, when governance lacks the quality of being humane the sovereign only seeks after riches, the officers know only how to collect taxes and have no compassion for the people. Being humane as the central idea of the kingly way of governance involves the same two intertwined dimensions. First, a substantive (inner) aspect consisting of a genuine presence of the quality of being humane within the sovereign’s heart-mind and not just simulated expressions of being humane made by the sovereign, and a functional (outer) aspect consisting of governance based on the quality of being humane (ren zheng 仁政) or “following the way of the first kings (xing xian wang zhi dao 行先王之道)” (Zhu 2002, vol. 6: 336, under Mengzi jizhu). The latter aspect refers to “the rules and regulations by which the world is properly administrated (zhi tian xia zhi fadu 治天下之法度)” (Zhu 2002, vol. 6: 336–37, under Mengzi jizhu). Zhu Xi explains that the first, inner dimension is necessary but not enough, and that the latter must not be lacking, because if the sovereign’s heart-mind is filled with the quality of being humane or he is renowned for his quality of being humane, yet his country is in chaos and his people cannot benefit from his quality, then this quality of being humane or goodness is empty, i.e., not functional, because it is not put into practice through governance action based on being humane: “To have only in the heart-mind, but not in the rules of governing, this means an empty goodness (tu shan 徒善). To have only within the manner of governing, but not in the heart-mind, this means empty rules (tu fa 徒法)” (Zhu 2002, vol. 6: 336–37, under Mengzi jizhu). Therefore, Zhu Xi believes that without an unbroken continuity, mutual assistance and cooperation between a heart-mind filled with the quality of being humane (the inner and substantive side) and acts of governance based on the quality of being humane (the outer and functional side), the sovereign cannot follow successfully the kingly way. In his view, the same intrinsic connection inward/outward, substantive/functional rests at the core of another political facet of the kingly way: the imperative of maintaining an uninterrupted continuity and flow between the sovereign’s (rulers’) heart-mind, naturally filled with compassion (this is his true heart-mind [zhen xin 真 心], in which dwells the coherence principle of heaven bestowed on him by nature),8 which cannot stand by idle to the suffering of others (bu ren ren zhi xin 不忍人之 心), and his compassion-based governance (bu ren ren zhi zheng 不忍人之政) (Zhu 2002, vol. 6: 289, under Mengzi jizhu). Ensuring the permanence of their connection is difficult in Zhu’s vision, and requires the sovereign to vigilantly pursue the rectification of his heart-mind: “Even if each one has a heart-mind that cannot stand by 8  As an explanation of the natural character of the compassion, Zhu Xi cites Xie Liangzuo 謝良佐 (1050–1103): “One must recognize one’s true heart-mind. Precisely at the moment when one sees a child falling into the well, one’s heart-mind is frightened. This is one’s true heart-mind. This feeling doesn’t come from reasoning, and one doesn’t need to make an effort to experience it. This is the natural character of the coherence principle of heaven (tian li)” (Zhu 2002, vol. 6: 289, under Mengzi jizhu).

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idle to the suffering of others, one’s personal desire for things deteriorates this heart-­ mind; as a result, one cannot examine and understand it, nor use it in political affairs. Only the sage can feel it entirely within himself; he answers it, and follows it, so none of his actions is short of compassion-based governance” (Zhu 2002, vol. 6: 249, under Mengzi jizhu).

2.5 The Way of the Hegemons (ba dao 霸道) Another essential political theme that Zhu Xi elaborates is the contrast between the kingly way of government (wang dao 王道) and the way of the hegemons (ba dao). The latter refers to five powerful rulers of the Spring and Autumn period. This distinction is intended to better illustrate the outstanding, long-lasting and far-reaching benefit of implementing the kingly way of government. Zhu Xi builds the difference king–hegemon by using several emblematic pairs of correlatives: being humane–strength (of the army and of the land) (Zhu 2002, vol. 6: 286–87, under Mengzi jizhu), sincerity–insincerity (cheng–wei 誠–偽) (ibid.), actually owning (the quality of being humane and sense of duty)–simulating or falsely pretending to have these qualities (shi–jia 實–假) (Zhu 2002, vol. 6: 436, under Mengzi jizhu), people at ease (under the kings)– people feeling pleasure (under the hegemons) (hao hao– huanyu 暤暤–驩虞) (Zhu 2002, vol. 6: 429, under Mengzi jizhu). Those who really have the quality of being humane within their heart-minds and govern through putting it into practice are following the kingly way, and the people serve them sincerely. Their kingly way of government is as natural as the natural course of heaven, therefore the people, while governed, follow spontaneously their own authentic natures. “Day after day,” Zhu emphasizes, “they voluntarily move themselves towards the good, without knowing who influences them to proceed in that direction” (Zhu 2002, vol. 6: 429, under Mengzi jizhu). In contrast, those following the way of the hegemons, do not have real quality of being humane within their heart-­ minds, but they simulate it through using their strength, in order to achieve their objectives (Zhu 2002, vol. 6: 286–87, under Mengzi jizhu). People obey hegemons because they are forced to and lack the force necessary to disobey, and not because of an inner desire to do so. The pleasure that the people experience under the hegemons lasts only for a limited period of time. Therefore, their accomplishments are only of low-quality (Zhu 2002, vol. 6: 436, under Mengzi jizhu). Zhu quotes Master Yang Shi’s 楊時 (1053–1135) thoughts on this issue: “Those who, when governing, make people feel pleasure [hegemons], must do things against the dao by seeking fame and honors. The kings are like heaven, they do not please people, do not make them dissatisfied” (Zhu 2002, vol. 6: 429, under Mengzi jizhu). According to Zhu Xi, it is important to understand all the facets of the hegemon’s government, in order to avoid repeating their mistakes and to better grasp through this contrast how to implement without errors the ideal of the kingly way: “Master Shao 邵子 remarks: ‘If those studying the Spring and Autumn period do not firstly examine the successes and the faults of the Five Hegemons, there is a lack of logic in their study, and

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they cannot understand the sage’s heart-mind. During the Spring and Autumn period, those who obtained the greatest successes were the Five Hegemons; those who made the greatest mistakes were the Five Hegemons. The first of the Five Hegemons who obtained a success was also the first who made a mistake’” (Zhu 2002, vol. 6: 418–19, under Mengzi jizhu). Finally, Zhu also suggests the vital role of a mechanism to control political power. In that respect, he considers knowledge of the contrast kings–hegemons to be politically important because it provides arguments that the sovereign’s counselors, and righteous Confucians in general, are responsible for overseeing the sovereign’s actions and offering him constructive criticism and suggestions in order to rectify deficiencies of governance and avoid the way of the hegemons. In Zhu’s opinion, this is a duty of Confucians: “Those who, when the sovereign makes mistakes, cannot remonstrate him and, in addition, follow him, increase the sovereign’s mistake. Those who, before the sovereign makes a mistake, encourage him to make that mistake, flatter his misdeed” (Zhu 2002, vol. 6: 418–19, under Mengzi jizhu).

3 The Foundations of Zhu Xi’s Political Thought: The Archetype Heaven-Earth (tian di) and the Coherence Principle of Heaven (tian li) 3.1 The Archetype Heaven-Earth in Zhu Xi’s Political Thought According to Zhu and his school, the continuous and coherent whole of heaven-­ earth, which constitutes multidimensional life, has its own perfect structure and way of functioning, and is the masterful model and guide not only for the truly accomplished human life, but also for the government of human affairs. Heaven-earth gives birth and nourishes life. It is an entity within which all things are sustained, grow, and flourish. In his commentary on the Doctrine of the Mean, Zhongyong 30,9 Zhu Xi describes its functioning as that of a caregiver and nurturer, which assumes responsibility for assisting all and maintaining peace in the world. Ensuring peace means for him eliminating the opposition between the different realities of individual constituents, so that they do not impede each other but instead support each other: “Heaven covers, earth supports. The ten thousand things grow together within the entity heaven-earth without harming each other. The four seasons unfold, and sun and moon harmonize themselves to enlighten the universe without impeding each other.” (Zhu 2002, vol. 6: 56, under Zhongyong zhangju 30).10 Therefore, like the effect of the activity of heaven-earth, the absolute duty of  For a philosophical translation of the Zhongyong zhangju, Zhu Xi’s commentary to the Zhongyong and a comparative, intercultural hermeneutics (Chinese/Western) of the main themes of the twelfth-century interpretation of the Zhongyong, see Arghiresco (2013). 10  For a philosophical translation of the Zhongyong zhangju 30, see Arghiresco (2013: 365–66). 9

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the government is to take care of people, to nourish them, and preserve the peace of the country. In this regard, Zhu remains true to the abovementioned Mencian principle of government—enriching the people’s livelihood and nourishing them properly and ensuring order and peace in the country (see Zhu 2002, vol. 6: 309–10, under Mengzi jizhu; Zhu 2002, vol. 6: 24–28, under Daxue zhangju 10). Moreover, the spontaneous activity of heaven-earth, which governs all constituents of reality, has moral foundations. The Neo-Confucian idea of the moral foundations of political action also emerge from this vision. In other words, in Zhu Xi’s Neo-Confucian view, heaven-earth is endowed with a perfect natural rectitude (tian di zhi zhi cheng 天地之至誠). The intimate connection between morality and cosmology is a focal point of Zhu Xi’s thought, as is reflected by his interpretation (see Zhu 2002, vol. 6: 57–59, under Zhongyong zhangju 32) of the ancient notion of natural rectitude (cheng 誠),11 as a cosmic moral quality and moral natural law (See Arghirescu 2019). Present simultaneously outside of all things in heaven-earth and inside each individual thing, natural rectitude permanently governs the transformation of one and all: “the perfect natural rectitude of the cosmos operates permanently so that each one of the ten thousand things finds its raison d’être. There is no other law apart from this natural perfect rectitude.” (Zhu 2002, vol. 6: 96, under Lunyu jizhu 4.15). When transferred into the context of good governing, this vision of the cosmic natural rectitude of heaven-earth embodies the emphasis placed on the perfect rectitude of the rulers. In other words, moral politics becomes the underlying basis for good government, i.e., good governance requires the continual practice of moral self-­cultivation by the ensemble of individuals, morally noble men (jun zi 君子), who participate in the government. Zhu Xi emphasizes in this context the similarity between the functioning of heaven-earth and the art of governance (both are morally founded processes), and thus expresses his faith that the latter is shaped primarily by those involved in government and less by political institutions, which for him, at the end of the day, also depend on individuals: “It is by the human being that the practice of the art of governance is set up, in the same way as the rapid growth of trees is possible due to the soil in which they are planted. . . . In other words, as long as these men are still alive, their art of governance is put into practice: it is as simple as this.” (Zhu 2002, vol. 6: 44, under Zhongyong zhangju 20).12 Zhu inherits this basic idea of government founded on individuals, on the need for ethical perfection of those participating in government, from Confucius.13 However, for Confucius, as Hsiao Kung-chuan 蕭公權 (1897–1981) points out,  About natural rectitude (cheng 誠) in Zhu Xi’s commentary Zhongyong zhangju, see Arghiresco (2013: 303–36). 12  For a philosophical translation and interpretation of the paragraph 20, see Arghiresco (2013: 275–301). 13  Hsiao Kung-chuan analyzes the principle of government founded on men in Confucius’ thought (Hsiao 1979: 39–78). 11

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“the superior man was one who combined in one person both the perfection of his ethical nature and the possession of office, and who in consequence could bring about beneficial results by cultivating (his person), regulating (his family), rightly governing his state, and making the world tranquil and happy” (Hsiao 1979: 86). Thus, if for Confucius, the learning of governmental principles and administrative methods was the means for achieving service in government, this is no longer Zhu’s goal. As Peter Bol rightly suggests, “during the course of the Southern Song . . . what it meant to be a shi 士 changed: rather than being a matter of office holding, it became a matter of education; [they] had almost no prospect of ever serving in government, yet thanks to their education they saw themselves as sharing responsibility for public and community life” (Bol 2004: 74). By emphasizing “individual” cultivation through the process of gaining awareness of the principle of coherence as the spiritual dimension of humans and all reality, Zhu Xi (a Southerner himself) singles out the important role of educated individuals—and of their training for becoming shi, central figures in their small local (and Southern, in his case) communities—as intellectuals and respected political leaders in their communities, and not as office holders in the central administration. In this local context, the political principle of nourishing the people, members of one’s direct community, resonates especially strongly. One can say that the political objective of Zhu has a new meaning, one different from that of the ancient Confucians (i.e., service in the government) and of those before the Song dynasties (i.e., service in the central government). His political vision is no longer central administration oriented; instead, it focuses on the local administration of communities by morally educated elites who in fact shoulder more responsibility for the welfare of their region than the officials sent by the central government. It is arguable that Zhu Xi emphasized local political action as the most efficient way to improve the world. Moreover, his reluctance or refusal to accept several appointments clearly indicates not only his skepticism about the efficacy of action from the political center, but also his commitment as a local political actor and political thinker to spending every effort in making efficient political and social action at the local level. Obviously, the latter includes his work as teacher and builder of private academies (See Chan 1987: 163–98). Therefore, in the context of his time when many good scholars did not hold tenure as officials, it might be said that his active endeavours did not only involve deserting the political sphere, turning toward individual moral and spiritual cultivation, and essentially toward “problems of human nature, personal cultivation, and man’s place in the universe”14 as has often been stated, but also involved gradually implementing a new, long-term political reformism manifested not in the passive form of loving the people (qin min 親 民), but in the active engagement of reforming the people (xin min 新民) (Zhu 2002, vol. 6: 16, under Daxue zhangju, jing).15  This important dimension of Zhu’s thought was first highlighted by Wm. Theodore de Bary (de Bary 1953: 105). 15  In his commentary Daxue zhangju, Zhu Xi, following Cheng Yi, replaces qin min 親民 with xinmin 新民. The interpretation I suggest here as well as in the rest of this chapter endorses the relevance of Zhu’s change. This chapter’s analysis demonstrates that this change was not a mistake 14

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“Following the Principle of Coherence (shun li 順理)” in Zhu Xi’s Political Thought

Heaven and earth are interlocked and indivisible as are the two dimensions of their continuum, the principle of coherence and functioning, according to Zhu. He describes the structure of heaven-earth, as the principle of coherence (li 理) or dao 道, and its mode of functioning, vital breath (qi 氣)16 or tools (qi 器), and highlights their holistic unity and hierarchical dependency: “Within the heaven-earth, there is the principle of coherence and the vital breath. The principle of coherence is the dao from beyond perceptible appearance, i.e., the root that gives birth to things. Vital breath is the tool from within perceptible appearance, i.e., the utility that gives birth to things. Therefore, the birth of humans and things necessarily relies on the principle of coherence; and then, authentic nature occurs. The latter necessarily relies on vital breath; and then, perceptible appearance occurs. Even though the authentic nature and the perceptible appearance of a thing are not ‘outside’ one another but form a single unity, the distinction between its dao and its tool quality is very clear. One cannot confuse them” (Zhu 2002, vol. 23: 2755–56, under Huian xiansheng Zhuwengong wenji (4), 晦庵先生朱文公文集(四), 58, Answering to HuAnG Daofu [Da HuAnG Daofu 答黃道夫]). The main belief of Zhu Xi is the existence of a principle of coherence simultaneously inside and outside (the coherence principle of heaven) all human and nonhuman beings and affairs. Political affairs are things of the world, and a subset of human affairs. Therefore, for Zhu, good governance, like any other thing or human affair, and like the archetype heaven-earth, has its own (inner) principle of coherence (li) that participates in the unique principle of coherence of heaven (tian li), and has its own tools or way of functioning. Central to the Neo-Confucian process of self-cultivation as the foundation of political action is, therefore, the initial acquisition of an awareness of the presence of the unique coherence principle of heaven, which arises from a profound comprehension of the multitude of principles of human affairs. Therefore, good governance depends on the capacity of rulers to first master these different coherence principles of all affairs (See Zhu 2002, vol. 6: 20, under Daxue zhangju 5), in order to be able subsequently to reach the superior level of acquiring a complete understanding of the unique principle of heaven, thus becoming capable of following it in their political activity and thereby achieving perfect governance. Different levels of mastering the coherence principles of things result in different levels of accuracy in following

as previously suggested (see Kao 1986: 326); rather, Zhu Xi’s political thought provides evidence to support the validity of this change and its coherence within his advocacy for actively engaging in a special form of political action. 16 I translate qi as “vital breath” because this term emphasizes the dynamism of the natural life, the holistically character of the substrate of the world, neither matter nor spirit, but both, and suggests the interconnectedness of the things, which in Zhu’s thought is effectively realized through sharing a common coherence principle of heaven.

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the coherence principle of heaven and, therefore, in different qualities of governance. As discussed in Sect. 2, for Zhu Xi, the ideal of good governance is embodied in the emblematic sage kings, because they were able to perfectly follow the unique coherence principle. When considering Zhu’s political thought, Hsiao Kung-chuan explains that “the ancient sage kings of antiquity achieved completeness of the coherence principle of heaven; therefore, they attained the highest level of outstanding governance. Unlike them, the sovereign heroes could only achieve a small part of this coherence principle of heaven; therefore, their government only achieved a state that provided a small measure of well-being for the people. These are representative of excellent and inferior quality governance. They really depend on achieving this principle of coherence to a greater or lesser degree, completely or partially” (Hsiao 2011: 536). Therefore, according to Zhu, the different qualities of comprehension and practice of the coherence principle of heaven is what makes the difference between rulers who follow the kingly way of the ancient sage kings, and those who follow the way of the hegemon. In a letter addressed to Chen Liang 陳亮 (1143–1194), Zhu Xi describes the difference between these two completely different ways of governance (see Sect. 2), using his Neo-Confucian notion of coherence principle. He advocates an ideal of good governance founded on the atemporal notion of coherence principle, understood as a unique normative order originating in nature and existing simultaneously within and beyond the human being, and modulated historically, as described later, by human feelings and rituals: “I have often thought that starting from antiquity and continuing until the present, there is only one coherence principle. Those who follow it are successful, while those who go against it, fail. Therefore, not only the sages and eminent individuals from antiquity do so [follow the coherence principle], but also those whom the world calls heroes and persons of exceptional ability cannot achieve anything without dwelling in it. However, the sages and eminent individuals from antiquity fundamentally possess this capacity. For this reason, they are able to stay in the middle, and whatever they undertake is good from beginning to end. Those coming after them, the so-called heroes, no longer have this capacity. They fight within the field of desires and interests. Those with superior qualifications can implicitly connect with this coherence principle, and according to their greater or lesser qualities, they have greater or lesser accomplishments. However, whether or not they can set things completely right, there is always only one coherence principle” (Zhu 2002, vol. 21: 1590, under Huian xiansheng Zhuwengong wenji (2), 晦庵先生朱文公文集(二), 36, Answering to Chen Tongfu [Da Chen Tongfu 答陳同甫]).17 Thus, achieving good governance is about following the many different coherence principles of differing activities of governance, and ultimately about following the unique coherence principle of heaven. The first prerequisite for success, as expressed by Zhu Xi in the paragraph above, is moral cultivation. More precisely,  Also quoted by Hsiao Kung-chuan (Hsiao 2011: 536). Like Hsiao, I followed the Zhe 浙 (Zhejiang 浙江) version of Zhu Xi’s Collected Works (wenji) that makes reference to the coherence principle (li 理). 17

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success depends on the capacity of those who govern to extract themselves from the field of their own desires and interests. “If day after day, one continuously eliminates one’s personal desires from one’s inner-self,” notes Zhu, “then one is able to follow the coherence principle of heaven” (Zhu 2002, vol. 6: 167, under Lunyu jizhu 12.1). By means of an excerpt from Fan Zhongyan, he also argues that in the context of governance, personal desires inevitably arise concerning wealth and rank (fu gui 富貴), and that those who participate in government need to constantly make efforts to eliminate them: “The one who lives as a hermit looks upwards; for this reason, he moves forward without looking back. The one who performs a public function tries to link all things; for this reason, he finds himself sometimes overwhelmed and he is unable to remain righteous. When we are not like the birds and animals, which live together in harmony, the emotions from our authentic nature transform us, and we covet wealth and rank” (Zhu 2002, vol. 6: 229, under Lunyu jizhu 18.7). The public servant perceives that nothing occurs in isolation, and that the efficient answer to a political problem is the one that takes into account the intrinsic interconnectedness underlying political issues. In another context (Zhongyong zhangju 1), Zhu Xi interprets the nature of one’s own desires and interests, which pose a threat to order and good governance, as what pulls those who rule to one side, to taking sides (pian yi 偏倚) (see Arghiresco 2013: 86–89), thus preventing them from being impartial. In the sphere of political activities, being free of personal desires and interests means “not leaning to either side and being free from bias, not doing too much, and not doing too little.” (Zhu 2002, vol. 6: 34, under Zhongyong zhangju 2).18 In the political realm of governance, understanding and following the different principles of things and the unique principle of heaven is therefore a question of “impartiality, equilibrium, of restraining oneself and avoiding reckless behavior” (Zhu 2002, vol. 6: 95, under Lunyu jizhu 4.10). Behavior is a powerful channel, connecting inner and outer worlds. In the opinion of Zhu, a concrete example of reckless behavior and lack of restraint of officials that negatively impacts government activities is the practice of slavishly flattering those of higher rank and of disdaining those of lower rank: “To slavishly flatter means to put oneself down. Being disdainful, that is being excessively proud. When overwhelmed by poverty or wealth, ordinary people do not know how to restrain themselves [from such feelings and behavior], and thus appear these two types of shortcomings. To not slavishly flatter and not be disdainful, this means knowing to restrain oneself, not going beyond the proper limitations imposed on the condition of poverty or wealth” (Zhu 2002, vol. 6: 73, under Lunyu jizhu 1.15). Also, Zhu states that being able to follow the coherence principle (li) and thus contribute to building good governance in a state, means cultivating a complete, global, or whole view (zhou 周) of political affairs, and moving beyond a simply  Zhu Xi interprets this effort as “maintaining oneself in the state of zhongyong 中庸.” For a philosophical interpretation of this notion, see Arghiresco (2013: 97–108). 18

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difference-based, or sectarian view (bi 比). He describes the contrast between these two perspectives in the following terms: “To be complete is what concerns the whole. To be difference-based means partial, predisposed to favor. Both describe the attitude of someone who is close to others. However, while being committed to the complete view means considering the relationship with others in a disinterested way (gong 公), being partial connotes considering others from a biased point of view, in a self-serving manner (si 私)” (Zhu 2002, vol. 6: 78–79, under Lunyu jizhu 2.14). In Zhu Xi’s political thought, the individual participating in governance is presented as requiring a disinterested point of view, as one who sees each element of political affairs from the perspective of the whole of political reality. It might be said that his viewpoint arises from two sources, one theoretical and another practical. Theoretically, it follows naturally from the Neo-Confucian idea of a unique coherence principle of heaven, in which all individual principles participate. The latter denotes the likeness of things and affairs which share a common root, as well as a Neo-Confucian ideal of cooperative politics and type of government: “one who performs a public function tries to link all things” (Zhu 2002, vol. 6: 229, under Lunyu jizhu 18.7). Practically, his emphasis on reestablishing a disinterested point of view in governance springs from the concrete social context of the Southern Song dynasty, within which Zhu perceives a deterioration of fundamental social relationships and of bonds between members of rural communities that traditionally ensured cultivation of a disinterested view in leaders, and restricted development of a partial view, forged by desire for personal gain.19 These features of impartiality and a disinterested view presented here in relation to the notion of “following principle” are discussed in Sect. 4, as one of the two main dimensions of Zhu Xi’s moral politics.

3.3 Probing the Principle of Coherence to the Utmost (qiong li 窮理): The Requirement for Practicing Good Governance The method of probing coherence principle to the utmost (qiong li) (Zhu 2002, vol. 6: 20, under Daxue zhangju 5) is the approach prescribed by Zhu and his Master Cheng Yi for acquiring the capacity to unerringly follow the coherence principle (or principle of coherence, see Sect. 1) of a thing or situation and thus practice the dao of good governance. “The wonderful power of the heart-mind has the capacity to understand,” notes Zhu Xi in his Daxue zhangju 5, “and each of the myriad things of reality has a coherence principle. It is only when these coherence principles are not probed to the utmost that understanding remains incomplete.” (Zhu 2002, vol. 6: 20, under Daxue zhangju 5). As already highlighted, only when under-

 Richard von Glahn discusses how Zhu Xi witnessed during his tenure the “anomalous moral indifference of the natural leaders of local society” who, Zhu Xi notes, “give no thought to the plight of people” (Von Glahn 1993: 234). 19

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standing of the coherence principle is accurate is it possible to follow it completely, and this capacity enables the ruler to govern faultlessly, like the sage kings. In this way, at some point in this endless activity, the previous accumulation of fragmentary knowledge of separate coherence principles, each one individually applicable to a distinct thing or activity, is transformed into something else, qualitatively different, that makes it possible to understand and thus follow the unique coherence principle of heaven—the source of all distinct coherence principles of things, which participates in each one of them and therefore is the joint that connects everything: “By continuing to call on all their strengths, one day, suddenly they will connect everything and reach the bottom of things, from their outside to their inside, as a whole, and in detail.” (Zhu 2002, vol. 6: 20, under Daxue zhangju 5). The awareness achieved by those participating in governing through this continual process is not knowledge for the sake of knowledge, but knowledge with a view to harmony—for peace, welfare and good government of the state. This knowledge is prerequisite to political action. At the very heart of the multitude of these coherence principles that should be experienced and followed in political practice, Zhu Xi places the coherence principles of human relationships (see Sect. 2). Among these, the coherence principle corresponding to the relationship between sovereign and official is central and of utmost priority and importance: “Each thing of the world has its coherence principle. Acting as sovereign and official has the coherence principle corresponding to the relation between sovereign and official. Acting as father and son has the coherence principle corresponding to the relation between father and son. Acting as husband and wife, as elder and younger brothers, as friends, up to moving in and out of attending to day-to-day affairs, and up to the difference between dealing with matters and approaching things, each situation has its own coherence principle. When probing it completely, then naturally, from things of importance such as the relation between sovereign and official to minor issues such as trivial matters and material things, one knows their raison d’être and how they ought to be, and there is no doubt. Doing good begins from here, doing harm is kept away from here, and there is no accumulation of the slightest inconvenience” (Zhu 2002, vol. 20: 668).20 Practice at the level of individual coherence principles is not yet an accomplished level of political practice. Rather, it is the prerogative of the heroes, and entails multiple degrees of practicing the way of the hegemon. As implicitly expressed in the above paragraph, the highest level of method and practice, which implies following the unique coherence principle of heaven, is qualitatively different from the simple accumulation of the practice of individual coherence principle, and beyond it (“suddenly they will connect everything”); it is the prerogative of the ancient sage kings, and an illustration of the “kingly way.”

 This is quoted from Huian xiansheng Zhuwengong wenji (1), 晦庵先生朱文公文集(一), 14, Xinggong biandian zouzha 行宮便殿奏劄, memorial addressed to Emperor Guangzong 光宗 (1190–1194) (Zhu 2002, vol. 20: 665–74). Also cited by Hsiao Kung-chuan (Hsiao 2011: 537). 20

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According to Zhu, good governance, which means following the unique coherence principle, depends essentially on the moral quality of the leaders. As expressed in the paragraph quoted earlier, the latter rests on cultivating, managing and ordering traditional human relationships, which constitute the expression of the unity of society, and are perceived in terms of coherence principle. Below, I discuss this dimension of Zhu Xi’s theory of moral politics, i.e., political action as managing and ordering human relationships, derived from his concept of the unique coherence principle. I argue that he conceived this method of practicing moral politics by cultivating and strengthening social relationships by means of a particular articulation between what might be called a morality of impartiality and a morality of care.

4 The Framework of Zhu Xi’s Theory of Moral Politics: Governing Through the Morality of Impartiality and the Morality of Care In order to understand these two dimensions of Zhu’s moral politics, i.e., care and impartiality, and the interaction between them, one needs to first define their Neo-­ Confucian theoretical foundations: ritual, coherence principle and social relationships.

4.1 The Relationship Between Ritual (li 禮), the Coherence Principle (li 理) and Social Relationships (wu dian五典) in Zhu Xi’s Political Thought Zhu remains faithful to the ancient Confucian idea that politics is above all a normative activity that focuses on a specific worldview grounded in ordered human relationships and governing rituals (li 禮) as their major ordering instrument. The prototype of these social relationships is the clan-society model based on family relationships: the ruler able to regulate his family well is able to govern his state well (see the classic Daxue). In other words, affairs of the state are modeled after family matters, and distinctions between members of society after familial distinctions of status. Ritual is the tool used to acknowledge and preserve these distinctions. As J. G. A. Pocock intuits, “in theory there is a ritual for every conceivable situation and a complete code of ritual behavior for persons in every grade of society to whom the rituals apply” (Pocock 1971: 43). The performance of rituals is a display of morality, of moral obligation, that induces and maintains order. This display has a motivational impulse necessary to promote moral action within participants and observers. Usually it functions as an externally motivating force of moral authority, and it is an efficient means of government because it regulates the behavior of rulers

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and people, establishes distinctions and brings people together. It has been argued that the motivational force that this ritual model produces is stronger than abstract moral coherence principles instilled in the people using codes of law (or verbal commands), which are rooted in words and moral reasoning (Pocock 1971: 45). Government by ritual is at the core of Confucian moral politics. Ancient Confucian ritual (Zhou dynasty ritual) displays the values and norms of the feudal nobility. It is therefore an external model to be followed. Unlike this ancient ritual as external model, and external moral source, Zhu Xi’s new perception of the ritual as instrument for the use of political leaders is much more than a normative element. It is no longer the set of Zhou dynasty norms, but instead “the coherence principle of heaven.” Ritual is considered inner master of the individual, “the concretization of the coherence principle of heaven (li zhe, tian li zhi jie wen ye 禮者, 天理之節文也)” (Zhu 2002, vol. 6: 167, under Lunyu jizhu 12.1), namely a metaphysical background to the heart-mind, a transcendent presence of heaven within every individual. Zhu’s Neo-Confucian ritual is a moral standard existing simultaneously outwardly and inwardly: outwardly, not in the historical memory as in ancient Confucianism, but in nature as a higher order existent within it, an intrinsic good as moral source of the universe; and inwardly as a substantive part of every individual. Neo-Confucian ritual as moral source embodies a vision of order in the universe. This intrinsic good comes from heaven, and is imperceptible within us. We have lost contact with it. It is through a process of cultivation that one becomes aware of it in oneself and in other things, restores contact with it, achieves engagement with it; and this engagement empowers one to adopt good governance practices, and reestablish human interconnections. Zhu Xi’s ritual is a standard of good governance grounded in nature, clearly different from the obligatory action of following ritual that is at the heart of ancient Confucianism. Implementing the art of governing depends on humans (wei zheng zai ren 為政 在人), explains the ancient Zhongyong 20 (Zhu 2002, vol. 6: 44). Furthermore, as the following commentary shows, he perceives humans as the central element of good governance in two of his dimensions, as endowed with disinterested feelings of concern for others (i.e., compassion, loyalty, affection) and with appropriate behavior (i.e., in accordance with the individual coherence principles of things and affairs). It is worth recalling that both aspects, the feelings and behavior of humans in society, are modeled on hierarchical distinctions in family relationships, and that ritual regularizes them: “The ritual is the origin of hierarchical distinctions that are made when cherishing different types of close relatives in distinct ways and when honoring men in distinct ways according to their different levels of excellence” (Zhu 2002, vol. 6: 45, under Zhongyong zhangju 20). It is using the notion of the principle of coherence that Zhu Xi explains these human feelings and behaviors expressed in terms of ritual hierarchical distinctions: “‘Human’ means the human being as a particular physical structure of reality. This living organism is naturally endowed with compassion, loyalty and affection. All that one needs is to deeply concentrate on what is within oneself in order to experience the presence of those feelings. An ‘appropriate behavior’ indicates the capacity to clearly distinguish between the different coherence principles of reality, because each of them pos-

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sesses something proper to it. Ritual is the concretization of both” (Zhu 2002, vol. 6: 45, under Zhongyong zhangju 20). To follow ritual is thus equivalent to correctly managing relationships, and forms the basis of good governance. This perspective represents another original contribution of Zhu to the conception of politics: as administration of a multidimensional, holistic web of human interconnections. In the context of his Zhongyong zhangju 20, which presents and explains the necessary ingredients of good governance, Zhu Xi describes the generically called “five rules” governing social relationships (wu dian 五典)21 “the path that everyone follows, the common route that people in all epochs take, referred to by the Book of changes as the five rules” (Zhu 2002, vol. 6: 45, under Zhongyong zhangju 20). Therefore, for Zhu, the norms of ordered relationships are universal, a legitimate heritage coming from ancestors and from antiquity, in the multidimensional (one of the most important of which is political) form of rituals and regulations (li ling 禮 令),22 or rituals and rules (li du 禮度),23 which are instruments for, among other purposes, the wielding of political authority. However, this universality is only one dimension of the use of ritual as a tool of government. Zhu Xi introduces a completely renewed and original perspective on this issue when considering that this universal corpus necessary for keeping in order human relationships is not only inherited, but should also be adapted to the specific conditions of each historical period. Thus, in his view, proper use of ritual rests on two complementary and inseparable factors, universality and adaptation, the first being the coherence principle of heaven-earth (tian di zhi li 天地之理) and second being the appropriateness of human feelings (ren qing zhi yi 人情之宜) (Zhu 2002, vol. 7: 895, under “Weddings (Hunli 昏禮),” The Family Rituals 3 [Jiali juan disan 家禮卷第三]). As with all holistic concepts of Zhu’s (see Sect. 3.2), ritual has a substantive dimension (ti 體), focusing on its content, i.e., embodying the coherence principle of heaven, and a functional dimension (yong 用) that captures ritual operationally, as the weaving of appropriate feelings, in its function of achieving the political goal of social harmony. Remember that these dimensions of ritual as a holistic whole are qualitatively different (beyond and within perceptible appearance). Zhu Xi sees the first dimension of this holistic whole, the coherence principle, as being of a higher order “beyond perceptible appearance (xing er shang 形而上),” and explains that the second dimension, generically referred to in this paragraph as tools (qi 器) and elsewhere as vital breath (qi 氣), lies “within perceptible appearance (xing er xia 形而  In this paragraph (Zhu 2002, vol. 6: 45), Zhu Xi recalls their Mencian definitions: “Between father and son, there is affection (qin 親); between sovereign and official, there is sense of duty (yi 義); between husband and wife, there is distinction between their differing roles (bie 別); between elder and younger siblings, order (xu 序); and between friends, fidelity to one’s pledged word (xin 信). 22  See Zhu (2002, vol. 7: 895, under “Weddings (Hunli 昏禮),” The Family Rituals 3 [Jiali juan disan 家禮卷第三]). 23  See Zhongyong zhangju 28 (Zhu 2002, vol. 6: 54). Here he explains the rules du as the ensemble of measures and institutions (du 度, pinzhi 品制). See also Arghiresco (2013: 353–55). 21

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下)” and is concretized in feelings and form: “Beyond perceptible appearance, there is no form, no image; this is the coherence principle. Within perceptible appearance, there are feelings and shapes; these are the tools” (Zhu 2002, vol. 17: 3185, under Zhuzi yulei 95; also cited in Hsiao 2011: 535). Of course, in the political context of good governance, the second means for him the feelings, or emotions, adjustable according to coherence principles (li 理) through rituals (li 禮). The coherence principle was extensively discussed earlier in a generic context. In the sphere of ritual, further explanation should be given to the meaning of “concretization” that Zhu uses when explaining that “ritual is the concretization of the coherence principle of heaven” (Zhu 2002, vol. 6: 167, under Lunyu jizhu 12.1). He introduces this idea using two special characters: first, the natural moderation (jie 節) that limits excess thus preserving unity (the idea embodied in the succession, interdependence, and unity in the continuity of the seasons, see sixtieth hexagram of the Classic of Changes (Yijing 易經); the explanation of the graphic etymology of this character in the Shuowen dictionary is that it represents the nodes of bamboo that join the sections together); second, the natural evolution of phenomena in heaven and on earth, and their intercommunication and interdependence in the space between them (wen 文). The graphic etymology illustrates that the function of ritual is to assure the interdependence of individuals, exactly as the unique natural order of heaven-earth assures the inter-resonance of things. Ritual is what binds together the members of society. As already mentioned, Zhu believed that his time had an urgent need: repair of the traditional relationships that he thought had degraded. For him, this was also the right approach to redressing what he saw in the political realm as poor leadership and ineffective governance. Consequently, for him ritual had a special political meaning. That is to say, Zhu Xi considers that it is necessary to restore ritual in order to cultivate, at the level of the central administration, a disinterested and impartial view among public servants, and at the local level, to develop the quality of being humane and sense of caring of the local leaders— wealthy landowners with private interests, many of them officials—towards the lowest-grade households (See Golas 1980: 300), and thus to reestablish their obligation to take care of the poorest commoners, especially during bad times. This perception of ritual as concretization of an atemporal coherence principle within the zeitgeist of his epoch reveals that Zhu embraces not a static continuity of ritual, but a continuity of adaptation. Therefore, as will be discussed below, he assumes the responsibility of reinterpreting the tradition of political action as the ordering of human relations, simultaneously in consonance with the past and the present, when he introduces the definition of ritual as the holistic articulation between coherence principle and feelings. Regarding the second, i.e., functional dimension of ritual, as the expression of human feelings, Zhu Xi makes clear the importance of adapting rituals in accordance with human emotions. This is because, “the ritual is a framework that regulates the behaviors of individuals who are bound by different ties, relatives or social connections, i.e., close or distant, and who have different statuses” (Zhu 2002, vol. 6: 54, under Zhongyong zhangju 28). Therefore, to each of the correct ties between individuals corresponds a specific regulated feeling. Ritual is the regulator which

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establishes a harmonious development of the feelings, thus securing social order and harmony. Zhu Xi explains: “When the feelings manifest themselves within the limits of the measure, they are rectified and do not disagree with the rule. For this reason, their movement is said to be harmonious” (Zhu 2002, vol. 6: 33, under Zhongyong zhangju 1). The feelings to be rectified through ritual are joy, anger, sadness, fear, love, hate, and desire.24 They are the result of the constant interaction between the initially pure and untroubled inside of the human being (political leader) and external things. Zhu shares Master Cheng’s opinion that “external things hit and shake the inside of a human being. The latter is set in motion and the seven feelings arise, namely joy, anger, sadness, fear, love, hate, and desire. Then the feelings are inflamed, spill over, and flow away, and the individual’s authentic nature is pierced” (Zhu 2002, vol. 6: 110, under Lunyu jizhu 6.2). In those who participate in governing, inflamed feelings obscure their capacity to perceive and follow the coherence principle, rendering them incapable of correctly discharging the duties of their office, whereas feelings rectified and in conformity with ritual assist them not only in establishing harmonious human relationships that unify society, but also in preserving their impartiality. Their feelings are rectified if they do not become inflamed when coming in contact with external reality: “one’s feelings follow events and things and one has no personal feelings (qi qing shun wan shi er wu qing 其情順萬事而無情)” (Zhu 2005: 55; 2002, vol. 13: 177, under Jinsilu 2.4). This is a condition marked by belongingness to the world and engagement. Lack of personal feelings in the political context of those participating to governance is neither lack of interest nor intervention, because both are subordinated to the biased subjectivity of the agent, but a deep, equanimous and objective attention to each thing, not clouded by any personal benefit. This state is the condition of a great impartiality (da gong 大公), i.e., a state of impersonality in the sense of objectivity, in which the moral agent is able to follow (shun 順) or respond (ying 應) to things and events as they are, without personal interest distorting them. In the opinion of Zhu Xi, cultivating impartiality through the practice of ritual is an essential aspect of the training of political actors. He perceives the totality of these human relationships as the framework of the social order (lun, cixu zhi li 倫, 次序之體) (Zhu 2002, vol. 6: 54, under Zhongyong zhangju 28). Of course, this order is primarily the effective result of the performance of rituals, which ensures the continuous actualization of ethical norms. By conceiving the practice of ritual, an important instrument of governance, in accordance with the unique principle of coherence of heaven (something simultaneously within and beyond the individual and of a natural higher order) and human feelings (which spring from the inner world of the individual living in a specific time), Zhu Xi completely changes the nature of ritual as well as the nature of the process of the practice of ritual. The latter, the ancient Confucian practice of

 About the social conception of these emotions in the Zhongyong zhangju, see Arghirescu (Forthcoming).

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g­ overnment by ritual (Zhou dynasty ritual) was an external moral model, a display of the values and norms of the feudal nobility. The ancient perspective was a procedural one, dealing not with the nature of ritual but purely with its functionality as display and imitation of an external code. However, when the authority of the Zhou house disintegrated, as Confucius complains in the Lunyu, Zhou ritual became ineffective and ceased to be a potent political tool. By grounding ritual in the coherence principle of heaven (the substantive dimension of ritual) and in human feelings (the functional dimension of ritual), Zhu transforms completely the nature of ritual and of its functioning. His Neo-Confucian ritual is no more an external model of values and norms, as ancient Zhou ritual was, but becomes internal, grounded in a higher natural order of the universe, present within human beings. His perspective on ritual is no longer a procedural one, but a substantive one. And it doesn’t function as simple external display anymore, but its efficacy comes from within individuals, and is guaranteed as long as they are aware of the presence of the coherence principle both within themselves and within external things. This kind of inner model and inner motivational force is without any doubt stronger than the external display of a model to imitate. Most likely, one of the reasons why Zhu Xi conceived of this simultaneously inner and higher (i.e., arising from a higher order of reality) nature of ritual and norms was its political effectiveness and efficiency. Finally, note that the notions of ritual, the coherence principle and human relationships have the metaphor of unity as common denominator. In the context of his thought, politics and governing (zheng zhi 政治) mean, above all, establishing, handling and maintaining the proper relationships between people, i.e., in the terms of the classic Daxue, jing, “to govern well the country, thus being able to unite the people” (Zhu 2002, vol. 6: 17, under Daxue zhangju, jing). Within the political sphere, this spiritual/moral notion of the coherence principle,25 which embodies Zhu Xi’s belief in the profound unity or coherence of reality, fulfills the role of emphasizing the importance of political and social unity, and suggests an effective method of realizing such unity through educating and persuading all individuals, from the sovereign to ordinary people, to cultivate themselves in order to become aware of the presence of the coherence principle in themselves and in others, as the element that connects and unites individuals at the profoundest level, thus engendering in everyone a sense of duty and responsibility for caring for others. Becoming aware of the presence of coherence principle is nothing other than becoming aware of the connection between human beings, which in turn generates effective concern and responsibility for others. Through cultivating one’s awareness of the presence of the same coherence principle within oneself and others, one cultivates a sense of oneness between oneself and others. Oneself and others share the same coherence principle, the latter is simultaneously within each of the individuals, therefore connects them at a profound level. One thus becomes aware of the intimate connection between individuals: taking care of oneself is taking care of others, and neglecting

 About the spiritual and moral dimensions of the coherence principle in Zhu’s commentary on the Daxue, see Arghirescu (2012: 272–89). 25

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others is neglecting oneself. In this way one cultivates a profound concern for the well-being of the world that manifests as the unity of human relations. The coherence principle becomes the underlying justification; training individuals to become aware of it is promoted as a means of realizing social unity and coherence. Through the introduction of this holistic notion of coherence principle, Zhu Xi conceives order and unity not as an intellectual representation, but as an organic reality, and the political development which is expected to generate this order and unity, as an organic process resulting from the interaction between living people, their feelings and relations, their connection with heaven-earth. His holistic view of human relations embodied in his main philosophical idea of principle of coherence, as well as in his central metaphor of unity, can be interpreted as a reflection of the context of his time, as a strategy of moral politics that he proposed in order to address and reduce the multiple fragmentation of the society of his time. Zhu’s quest for unity was not new. As a matter of fact, unity is an ancient Mencian ideal in the Confucian tradition.26 However, Zhu Xi’s context is different, as well as the holistic solution he proposed. The Southern Song lacked unity and was fragmented in many ways. After the Jurchen invasion and loss of the Northern part of the empire in 1127, the territorial and political unity of the empire was lost. He lived in an epoch of territorial and political division. The functioning of the examination system created a division within the class of scholars, between those holding positions within the central bureaucracy and those who did not. After the abandonment, since the mid-Tang dynasty, of the jun-tian 均田 or equitable field system, a new rural order emerged. This was marked by contractual relationships and a sharp division between peasants chronically in debt and wealthy landowners, many of them officials, who, as P. Golas has remarked, “sought to build up estates in order to provide a firm and enduring economic foundation for their newly achieved status” gained through the examination system (Golas 1980: 302). In Zhu Xi’s society, marked by multiple fragmentation—at political, social, economic, and cultural levels, this ideal of unity resonated deeply. He advocated the restoration and implementation of rituals at all levels as an efficient way to reconstruct a unified society (See Zhu 1991: 3–4, under “Preface by P. B. Ebrey”).

4.2 Governing Through Being Humane (ren 仁) and Sense of Duty (yi 義) As discussed above, according to Zhu, ritual as the main instrument for good governance, which regulates human relationships, comprises the articulation of two inseparable dimensions: the coherence principle and human feelings. Remember that his bi-dimensional vision of ritual is embedded in a twofold, family based

 See the idea of “stability in unity (ding yu yi 定于一)” (Zhu 2002, vol. 6: 252, under Mengzi jizhu: Liang Hui wang zhangju shang) in Mencius’ political thought (Hsiao 1979: 163). 26

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moral system (derived from the ancient kinship system), and that moral authority and responsibility is patterned on parental authority and responsibility. Therefore, the latter also serves as the model of political authority and responsibility.27 In what follows, I argue that this twofold moral system (unity of the coherence principle and human feelings) determines the structure of Zhu Xi’s political thought, as well as the two different forms of political action and types of policies he advocates in his teachings and while serving in the government. The first dimension involves conducting political action according to a sense of duty (which is correlated with the coherence principle), while the second, according to the quality of being humane28 (which is correlated with human feelings). Both are features pertaining to morality, and both concern human relations. I suggest that Zhu’s moral politics is thus structured around the confluence of a morality of impartiality (centered on the sense of duty, i.e., practice and observance of the natural rules embodied in the coherence principle) and a morality of care (centered on being humane, i.e., the practice of connecting with and caring for others and all things based on awareness of their interdependence and on harmoniously developed feelings).29 Moreover, his moral politics belongs to the context of viewing the country as a family in which the government (emperor and officials) is the parents (father and mother) invested with moral authority, exercising parental authority, and having responsibility for its population, and the people are the children, subjects of its authority and responsibility. The above-mentioned first type of morality equates political power with impartiality and lack of individual self-interest, and the second, with care. From these assertions, one may infer that Zhu Xi perceives each of these two dimensions of morality as inducing a set of moral priorities, which determine a specific type of political action or public policy. First, the sense of duty with its corresponding morality of impartiality advocates for public policy that promotes the transformative education of officials and elites in the spirit of the coherence principle, thereby effecting personal change of political actors in the direction of impartiality, or “treating all interests or concerns in the same way”,30 self-discipline and disinterested participation in the governing process. The term governing is used in this context in a broad sense: it includes central and local policies, officials in the central administration, as well as members of local elites who are complementary to the central bureaucracy. The latter perform a quasi-political role when i­ mplementing

 Hsiao Kung-chuan explains the genesis of this model of family/politics: “In clan-law society it was scions of the (ruling) class who became the hereditary ministers, thus bringing about a mingling between family matters and the affairs of the state” (Hsiao 1979: 103). For a Western development of the link between family-based morality and politics, see Lakoff (2016: 13–34). 28  In Chan’s view, Zhu Xi “developed the concept of ren [being humane] to the highest point in Chinese history” (Chan 1987: 56–58). 29  Zhu expresses the idea of harmoniously developed feelings in his Zhongyong zhangju 1 (Zhu 2002, vol. 6: 33). 30  For an analysis of the concept of impartiality within the Western theory of morality, see Barry (1995: 14). 27

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and managing local policies aimed at improving the well-being of the local population and the maintenance of social ties of the local communities. Second, being humane, with its corresponding morality of care, promotes public policies concerned with people’s well-being, their standard of living, quality of life, and social justice. In 1163, Zhu was summoned to the court at Chui Gong Hall 垂拱殿, where the emperor met officials, for a meeting with the recently installed emperor Xiaozong (r. 1162–1189),31 and he prepared three memorials for this important event. In his Second Memorial of Chui gong Hall (Chui gong zouzha er 垂拱奏劄二) (Zhu 2002, vol. 20: 633, under Huian xiansheng Zhu wengong wenji 13), Zhu Xi highlights as essential for the political context two of the five abovementioned relations, “the relationship between father and son which,” Zhu says, “embodies the highest form of being humane (ren mo da yu fu zi 仁莫大於父子), and the relationship between sovereign and official which represents the highest form of the sense of duty (yi mo da yu jun chen 義莫大於君臣)” (ibid.). Furthermore, in the same memorial, Zhu Xi explains that “being humane and sense of duty are the root of all five natural moral capacities”32; moreover, Zhu adds, “[being humane] is the accomplishment of human relationships, and [the sense of duty] is the accomplishment of the coherence principle of heaven” (Zhu 2002, vol. 20: 633–34). The same two moral dimensions that guide political action, being humane as attached to human feelings and sense of duty as attached to the coherence principle, are further explained in his commentaries on the Four Books. The following investigation provides evidence from these commentaries showing that each of these dimensions highlighted by Zhu Xi configures a specific morality with particular political implications. Being humane is rooted in the human feelings and shapes a morality of care that inspires what can be described as his “care policies,” whereas the sense of duty, rooted in the coherence principle, gives rise to a morality of impartiality, and the latter leads to his “impartiality policies.” Thus, in his moral politics, both moralities are necessary, they are complementary and genuinely inseparable, and each one shapes a specific type of political action. The morality of impartiality in the political sphere is about the attitude towards themselves that those participating in governance should cultivate in order to correspond to the leadership model that ensures good governance. “The proper sense of duty is that by which the coherence principle of heaven is in its proper place,” notes Zhu Xi in the Lunyu jizhu 4.16 (Zhu 2002, vol. 6: 96). He is thus following  About the historical context of this meeting, see Yu (2003: 60–61).  The “five permanencies (wu chang 五常),” are being humane (ren 仁), sense of duty (yi 義), spirit of ritual (li 禮), moral knowledge [discerning what is right and what is wrong] (zhi 智), fidelity to one’s pledged word (xin 信). According to Zhu Xi, who shares the opinion held by Master Cheng, wu chang are not external norms but innate moral capacities or dispositions: “Master Cheng said: . . . The accumulation of the vital essence of heaven and earth, the accomplishment of the best in the five phases, this is the human being. His own nature is authentic and untroubled. When this nature is not yet in movement, the five natural dispositions, being humane, sense of duty, spirit of ritual, moral knowledge and fidelity to one’s pledged word, already exist within it” (Zhu 2002, vol. 6: 109–10, under Lunyu jizhu, 6.2). 31 32

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and developing the Zhongyong 20 perspective which sees the sense of duty as appropriate [behavior] (yi zhe yi ye 義者宜也) (Zhu 2002, vol. 6: 45). Zhu Xi observes that one who performs a public function must practice the sense of duty, namely maintaining an impartial attitude when cultivating human relationships— that is, be objective, disinterested, not self-centered: “one must not only look after oneself, and neglect social ties” (Zhu 2002, vol. 6: 229, under Lunyu jizhu 18.7). Moreover, when one cultivates the sense of duty, one’s heart-mind does not develop penchants (yi 倚) (Zhu 2002, vol. 6: 95, under Lunyu jizhu 4.10). Thus, developing the sense of duty means behaving appropriately (yi 宜), namely being able to distinguish between the coherence principles of different affairs (fen bie shi li 分別事理) and to follow each principle correctly (Zhu 2002, vol. 6: 45, under Zhongyong zhangju 20). The sense of duty also involves self-monitoring of performance (accuracy and efficiency): “Analyzing the coherence principles, without the slightest error; managing the affairs without the slightest improper conduct, without doing too much or doing too little; comprehending the meanings of things so as to understand each day what was not yet understood; refining rules, so as to become each day attentive to what one didn’t yet pay attention” (Zhu 2002, vol. 6: 53, under Zhongyong zhangju 27).33 To this sense of duty corresponds a particular model of morality applied in political practice, which induces a particular set of moral priorities. The latter appear clearly in the examples cited above: impartiality, responsibility, unbiasedness, an absence of self-interestedness—therefore, order, self-control and self-discipline. All these priorities focus on the limitation of personally-oriented action (personal desires and interests), and on self-restraint. Also, the sense of duty corresponds to the relationship between sovereign and official; therefore, it implicitly embodies respect for and obedience to legitimate authority. One might call this type of morality the morality of impartiality, or morality of duty. It is the first pillar of Zhu Xi’s moral politics. The “impartiality policies” in this case concern the development of a Neo-Confucian program of study for political leaders intended to cultivate those qualities. It is understood that Zhu’s commentaries on the Four Books are part of it. The quality of being humane is for Zhu the coherence principle of caring34 and therefore concerns the sphere of feelings—more precisely of feelings towards others—and gives form to what was called above a morality of care, the second pillar of Zhu Xi’s moral politics. If the morality of impartiality was previously discussed as being about the attitude towards themselves of those participating in governance, the morality of care relates to the attitude of those who govern towards others. The latter is an extension of oneself toward others and all things of reality, rather than a self-limitation (as in the case of the morality of impartiality). This self-extension toward others relies on feelings of concern for them (such as compassion, loyalty,  For a philosophical translation and interpretation of the Zhongyong zhangju 27, see Arghiresco (2013: 345–52). 34  I am grateful to the anonymous reviewer for suggesting to emphasize this meaning in Zhu’s thought. 33

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and affection, which naturally exist within one’s heart-mind, says Zhongyong zhangju 20) (Zhu 2002, vol. 6: 45). However, the sphere of feelings is just the trigger of the quality of being humane and not being humane in itself. Being humane as political action means providing care and all kinds of necessary nourishment to the people. Zhu highlights being humane as a dynamic expansion of oneself, which is an expansiveness of action and not merely “static empathy” (merely feeling what others feel) but “active empathy” (behavior-focused active caring for people) through quoting Master Cheng: “Reaching out to others and all things, this is being humane (yi ji ji wu, ren ye 以己及物, 仁也)” (Zhu 2002, vol. 6: 96, under Lunyu jizhu 4.15). In other words, the morality of care as a political dimension means constantly and responsively connecting with others and all things, and engaging in the work of taking care of them. Zhu Xi also illustrates this idea of the expansion of oneself triggered by compassionate feelings by quoting Zhang Zai 張載 (1020–1077): “What one does not like, one should not impose on others: this attitude also means being close to others, and thus following the dao. Master Zhang calls this ‘having an affectionate heart-mind towards others as towards oneself, this is what perfectly practicing being humane is’” (Zhu 2002, vol. 6: 39, under Zhongyong zhangju 13).35 Cultivating the above-mentioned feelings through “care policies” helps develop strong bonds (“being close to others”) of mutual affection with others (“an affectionate heart-mind”), and bonds of respect for them (“what one does not like, one should not impose on others”). In order to emphasize the meaning of being humane as caring for others at different levels, as empathy for others and tenderness towards them, Zhu presents the quality of being humane as emerging from the insight that within the reality heaven-earth, the self and others are interdependent as they are all children born from the unique nurturing heart-mind of heaven-earth: “The quality of being humane [tenderness] is the heart-mind through which heaven-earth gives birth to things (ren zhe, tiandi sheng wu zhi xin 仁者, 天地生物之心)” (Zhu 2002, vol. 6: 45, under Zhongyong zhangju 20). In the Neo-Confucian sphere, being humane/tenderness is the engine that drives one to cultivate one’s interdependence with all things, that is, to exercise social responsibility, cultivate holistic social ties, and act consistently in a nurturant way towards others.36 Exactly as the heaven-earth which gives birth to and nurtures the natural growth of things like their father and mother, those who govern should exercise, in Zhu Xi’s view, the function of natural and moral caregiver and nurturer of the people through the political principle of being humane. He extensively explains this principle in the Daxue zhangju 10 (Zhu 2002, vol. 6: 24–28). Inspired by the Mencian idea of benevolent government, this principle of nourishing people focuses on improving people’s livelihood through decreasing taxes and distributing riches: “Those endowed with the quality of being

 For a philosophical translation and interpretation of the Zhongyong zhangju 13, see Arghiresco (2013: 219–29). 36  See “nurturant parent model” in Lakoff (2016). 35

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humane distribute wealth, thus winning the hearts and minds of the people; those lacking the quality of being humane lose themselves while acquiring goods” (Zhu 2002, vol. 6: 27, under Daxue zhangju 10). Hsiao Kung-chuan identifies the source of the theory of being humane in Confucius’ thought in the “mingling between family matters and the affairs of the state” which is the defining characteristic of clanlaw society. He explains that in this way Confucius transformed the government of the feudal world into a “feudalism humanized and idealized” (Hsiao 1979: 103). The transformation of the nature of ritual from Confucius to Zhu Xi was previously discussed. From a moral standard, outwardly rooted in the idealized historical ritual of Zhou, ritual became for Zhu rooted in nature as a higher order, and in the unique coherence principle as moral source of the universe. A similar observation is pertinent in the case of the political theory of being humane. For him, it no longer represents the essence of a humanized and idealized historical feudalism, but becomes of a higher order, a moral quality of the heart-mind of heaven-earth of which the political leader must become aware.

5 Conclusion This study demonstrates that in Zhu’s thought, the emperor is the central figure of the governance process. In the realm of governing human affairs, the function of the unity heaven-earth is analogous with the function of the sovereign. As already emphasized, “the emperor is important not so much for his position in the structure of institutions as for his influence as moral leader” (Schirokauer and Hymes 1993: 27). If the dao is, as Zhu explains, “the coherence principle that all things and all matters must follow,” (Zhu 2002, vol. 6: 32, under Zhongyong zhangju 1) then it can be said that the emperor, namely the ultimate source of political power, is the model followed by officials and ordinary people, and embodies the dao of good governance, i.e., the coherence principle li of Zhu Xi’s moral politics. This anatomy centered on the figure of the sovereign traditionally corresponds to the structure of Chinese political power. Moreover, in this vision, governance is a collective affair,37 morally managed by the emperor, in which his officials participate directly, and the eminent Neo-Confucian teachers participate indirectly. It is through persuading the emperor, awakening his heart-mind, that Zhu envisages participation in the exercise of political power. This represents the abovementioned dimension waiwang 外王—“being a king outwardly”—of his teaching. His poem Ganhuai 感懷, which prefaces this study, also illustrates his intention “to govern and provide service to the people (jingji 經濟),” that is, to practice the dao. And his three memorials (see Sect. 4.2), can also be regarded as evidence of his  Hoyt Cleveland Tillman describes the Song Confucians as a fellowship, “having a network of social relations and a sense of community with a shared tradition that distinguished them from other Confucians,” and perceives Zhu Xi as a symbol of their fellowship (Tillman 1992: 3–7). 37

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effort to look for and persuade a responsive emperor to practice the dao. This quest represents what I suggested can be called a first stage in the development of moral politics and its practice by Zhu Xi. If for him it was not possible to build that profound relation with an emperor for the purpose of practicing the dao, after his unsuccessful attempts (his meetings with the emperor), in his second stage, Zhu subsequently concentrated on the functional dimension of his moral politics, through working in support of several local policies and developing his teaching and private academies as a form of political action. Thus, he devoted himself to training able men, in the hope that his disciples would continue to advocate the Neo-Confucian doctrine of following the li, i.e., practice the kingly way, and would have the chance to encounter a sovereign interested in it, to incite him to put it into practice in his governance, and thus be able to take political action as advisers and statesmen. A significant pedagogical achievement in this sense was Zhu Xi’s commentaries on the Four Books examined in this study, a body of work conceived as a structured educational curriculum, that gave new meaning to the classics from the perspective of the Neo-Confucian coherence principle and the good governance ideal arising therefrom. Zhu aimed not only to morally renew the people, but also to concretely improve their well-being. After the first phase of his political action proved to be unsuccessful (his memorials did not have their desired influence on the emperor), in what was here identified as a second phase of his political action, he dedicated himself not only to teaching, but also to the well-being of the people. He focused on the development of local policies, communal institutions and community welfare activities in the South, managed by the local elite and not by the central government.38 Therefore, bearing responsibility locally for the well-being of the people and administering famine relief was for him an essentially political action, in which the local elite played a significant political role, complementary to that of the locally present officials sent by the central government. For that reason, Zhu Xi’s political doctrine remained true to the Mencian view of rulership as assuming responsibility for the well-being of the people.

References Arghiresco, Diana. 2013. De la continuité dynamique dans l’univers confucéen, Lecture néoconfucéenne du Zhongyong 中庸. Paris: Éditions du Cerf. (This book provides a philosophical translation of the Zhongyong zhangju—Zhu Xi’s 12th century commentary on the Zhongyong, and builds a comparative [ancient Confucianism/twelfth-century Confucianism], intercultural [Chinese/Western] hermeneutics of Zhu Xi’s Neo-Confucian interpretation of the moral themes and notions presented in this classic.)

 See an example in this sense in the analysis of the Neo-Confucian (during Song and Ming dynasties) active social movement in Wuzhou 婺州, a prefecture in eastern Zhejiang 浙江, by Peter Bol (Bol 2003: 240–82).

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Arghirescu, Diana. 2012. “Zhu Xi’s Spirituality: A New Interpretation of The Great Learning.” Journal of Chinese Philosophy 39.2: 272–289. (This article analyzes the spiritual dimension of Zhu Xi’s thought as reflected in his commentary of the four inner stages of the Great Learning [Daxue zhangju]). ———. 2018. “Connections Between Confucianism and Democracy in Xu Fuguan’s Thought: An Intercultural Hermeneutics.” Taiwan Journal of East Asian Studies 臺灣東亞文明研究學 刊, 15.2: 129–172. (This essay intends to explore two new facets of Xu Fuguan’s 徐復觀 [1902–1982] work, which have not been previously addressed: his genuinely reconstructive understanding of the initially Western notion of democracy from within the core of Chinese tradition [Confucianism]; his new historical interpretation of the Confucian thought.) ———. 2019. “The Neo-Confucian Transmoral Dimension in Zhu Xi’s Moral Thought.” Philosophy East and West 69:1. (This essay is an examination of the perception during the Song dynasty of moral life and human nature as reflected in the moral thought of Zhu Xi and his commentaries on the Four Books. The thesis that this analysis defends is the existence of an immanent transmoral dimension within Neo-Confucian morality.) ———. Forthcoming. “Spiritual Discipline, Emotions and Behavior During the Song Dynasty: Zhu Xi’s and Qisong’s Commentaries on the Zhongyong in Comparative Perspective.” Philosophy East and West. Scheduled to be published in PEW 70:1 (January, 2020). Published electronically September 11, 2018. https://doi.org/10.1353/pew.0.0161. (This study proposes a comparative hermeneutics of two Song dynasty commentaries of the classic Zhongyong [Qisong’s 契嵩 (1007–1072) and Zhu Xi’s (1130–1200)] and puts forward a new perspective on this text, a viewpoint common to both Neo-Confucian and Chan schools, which focuses on emotions and on the “interdependent self.”) Barry, Brian. 1995. Justice as Impartiality. Oxford: Clarendon Press. (In this book, the author builds a theory of justice as impartiality, examines its principles and rules [i.e., justice, first-­ order impartiality and second-order impartiality] discusses impartial conceptions of the good, and responds to feminist criticism.) Bol, Peter. 2003. “Neo-Confucianism and Local Society, Twelfth to Sixteenth century: A Case Study.” In Paul Jakov Smith and Richard von Glahn, eds., The Song–Yuan–Ming Transition in Chinese History. Cambridge: Harvard University Press. (In this article, the author analyzes Neo-Confucian movements as evidence of competition between the part of the government that sought to reassert the authority and centrality of the court and those local literati who envisioned a more decentralized society. He argues that Neo-Confucianism provided the would-be decentralizers with both a program and a philosophical justification.) ———. 2004. “On the Problem of Contextualizing Ideas: Reflections on Yu Yingshi’s Approach to the Study of Song Daoxue.” Journal of Song–Yuan Studies 34. (This essay is a reflection on the methodological stance Yu Ying-shih takes in the introduction of his study of the historical world of Zhu Xi. The author explains that he is not convinced that “political culture” alone is an adequate approach for understanding how Daoxue as a social and intellectual movement made a connection between ideals and social life.) Chan, Wing-tsit. 1987. Chu Hsi, Life and Thought. Hong Kong: The Chinese University of Hong Kong. (In this book, the author examines several issues concerning Zhu Xi: the way in which partisanship has distorted the true character of Zhu Xi’s life and thought; the fact that he was not merely a synthesizer but an innovator in many fields; and his contribution to world philosophy. The author thus intends to demonstrate that Zhu Xi added something new to Neo-­ Confucianism, thus making it complete.) ———. 1989. Chu Hsi, New Studies. Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press. (The author aims to present hitherto undisclosed material and neglected topics on Zhu Xi’s life, his thought and his pupils and associates, from the Wenji, the Yulei and other sources.) de Bary, Wm. Theodore. 1953. “A Reappraisal of Neo-Confucianism.” In Arthur F. Wright, ed., Studies in Chinese Thought. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. (The article stresses that study of the Confucian tradition after the classical period has tended to overlook the d­ evelopment

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of its political and social doctrines. It also highlights the need to reassert Confucian ethics as essential to political stability and social welfare.) Golas, J. Peter. 1980. “Rural China in the Song.” The Journal of Asian studies. 39.2: 291–325. (This paper explains the emergence of a new rural order during the Song, which defined the relations between the landlords [officials] and their tenants. In connection with this issue, it discusses the special characteristic of the Song government: promoting the well-being of the peasantry through policies encouraging farming and aiming to increase the agricultural production.) Hsiao, Kung-chuan 蕭公權. 1979. A History of Chinese Political Thought, vol. 1: From the Beginnings to the Sixth Century A. D. Translated by F. W. Mote. Princeton: Princeton University Press. (This book is an attempt to make a systematic study of China’s political thought, with the Zhou period as the starting point. It first presents the rise of political thought in connection with the rapid changes underwent in the structure of society and with the appearance of great thinkers; second, it establishes a periodization of the history of Chinese political thought in accordance with the main outlines of the development of thought; third, it examines this periodization in accordance with the historical backgrounds of thought.) Hsiao, Kung-chuan 蕭公權. 2011. A History of Chinese Political Thought 中國政治思想史, vol. 1. Taipei 臺北: Lianjing chuban gongsi 聯經出版公司. (This first volume attempts to systematically identify the characteristics of the Chinese political theory through examining the political dimensions of Chinese thought during the pre-Qin period [ancient Confucianism and Taoism], throughout the Qin, Han, Tang periods to the Song dynasty.) Kao, Ming. 1986. “Chu Hsi’s Discipline of Propriety.” In Chan Wing-tsit, ed., Chu Hsi and Neo-­ Confucianism. Honolulu: University of Chicago Press. (This article first introduces the three elements of the Discipline of Propriety, i.e., the study of the Rites of Zhou [Zhouguan 周官], the study of the Ceremonies and rites [Yili 儀禮], the study of the Book of rites [Liji 禮記]; second, it presents Zhu Xi’s works on the discipline of propriety.) Lakoff, George. 2016. Moral Politics: How Liberals and Conservatives Think. Chicago: Chicago University Press. (In this book, the author analyzes the worldviews of liberals and conservatives, provides evidence that they have different conceptions of morality, and explains how moral ideas develop in systematic ways from our models of ideal families.) Pocock, J. G. A. 1971. “Ritual, Language, Power: an Essay on the Apparent Political Meanings of Ancient Chinese Philosophy.” In Politics, Language and Time: Essays on Political Thought and History. New York: Atheneum. (In this essay, the author proposes the following enterprise: the writing of histories of East Asian political thought comparable with those which we have for the classical and postclassical West.) Schirokauer, M. Conrad. 1960. “The Political Thought and Behavior of Chu Hsi.” Ph.D. Diss., Stanford University. (The author’s aim is to present a general analysis of Zhu Xi as a political thinker and as an official. The study takes into account Zhu Xi’s views on metaphysics, psychology, classical exegesis, historiography, only as far as they are relevant to the political and economic aspects of his thought. It also introduces biographical material only to the extent to which it casts light on his political career.) ———. 1975. “Neo-Confucians Under Attack: The Condemnation of Wei-hsüeh.” In John Winthrop Haeger, ed., Crisis and Prosperity in Sung China. Tucson: University of Arizona Press. (The essay describes the bitter debate over “spurious learning,” which has its origins in the genuine Neo-Confucian effort to sort through the parentage of ideas, was fueled by factional politics, and finally led to a temporary ban on the most influential thinkers of the day.) ———. 1978. “Chu Hsi’s Political Thought.” Journal of Chinese Philosophy 5: 127–148. (This article examines several political ideas of Zhu Xi in connection with the classic Daxue: linking ethics and politics, self-cultivation and government, the cultivation of the “inner” man as political obligation, the rectification of the ruler’s mind, the selection and appointment of high officials. Schirokauer, Conrad, and Robert P. Hymes. 1993. “Introduction.” In Robert P. Hymes and Conrad Schirokauer, eds., Ordering the World: Approaches to State and Society in Sung Dynasty China. Berkeley: University of California Press. (The article presents different social and p­ olitical

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changes that occurred during the Song dynasty. First change concerns an apparent secular decline in the power of the Chinese state; the second change refers to the economic and social transformation that has been called the “Tang–Song transition”; the third change discussed is the difference between the northern Song elite and the Southern Song elite.) Tillman, Hoyt C. 1982. “The Debate on Ethics in Politics.” In Utilitarian Confucianism: Ch’en Liang’s Challenge to Chu Hsi. Cambridge: Harvard University Press. (This is a study of Chen Liang 陳亮 [1143–1194] and his debate with Zhu Xi. It explores China’s socio-political thought in the twelfth century and two of its dominant trends—“ethics of social orientations or end results” and “ethics of absolute ends or personal virtue.”) ———. 1992. Confucian Discourse and Chu Hsi’s Ascendency. Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press. (The author aims to introduce the historical development of Daoxue Confucianism during the Southern Song. The analysis is organized around four major questions concerning the success of the Confucian fellowship, Zhu Xi’s prominence in the tradition, other alternatives within the fellowship, and implications for studying Confucian philosophy.) Von Glahn, Richard. 1993. “Community and Welfare: Chu Hsi’s Community Granary in Theory and Practice.” In Robert P.  Hymes and Conrad Schirokauer, eds., Ordering the World: Approaches to State and Society in Sung Dynasty China. Berkeley: University of California Press. (This article examines the issue of community-granary, a concept popularized by Zhu Xi and his disciples as a new vision of political activism grounded in both moral cultivation and the pressing social needs of the times.) Yu, Ying-shih 余英時. 2003. The Historical World of Zhu Xi: A Study of the Political Culture of Song Intellectuals 朱熹的歷史世界:宋代士大夫政治文化的研究, vol. 2. Taipei 臺 北: Yunchen wenhua 允晨文化. (In this monumental work, the author develops a synthesis between the Song intellectual history and the Song political history, and examines their interaction within the context of Zhu Xi’s life.) Zhu, Xi. 1991. Chu Hsi’s Family Rituals. Translated by Patricia B. Ebrey. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Zhu, Xi 朱熹. 2002. The Collected Works of Master Zhu 朱子全書, 27 vols. Shanghai 上海: Shanghai guji chubanshe 上海古籍出版社 and Hefei 合肥: Anhui jiaoyu chubanshe 安徽教 育出版社. ———. 2005. Reflections on Things at Hand—New Interpretation 新譯近思錄. Translated by Zhang Jinghua 張京華. Taipei 臺北: Sanmin shuju 三民書局. Diana Arghirescu is a senior lecturer at the Department of Philosophy, Université du Québec à Montréal, Canada and serves as director of Research of the Center Observatoire de l’Asie de l’Est. Her research interests consist in Chinese philosophy, especially Song dynasty Neo-Confucianism, affinities and differences between Confucianism and Chan Buddhism. She is the author of De la continuité dynamique dans l’univers confucéen: Lecture néoconfucéenne du Zhongyong, and has published in Philosophy East and West, Journal of Chinese Philosophy, Comparative and Continental Philosophy, and Taiwan Journal of East Asian Studies.  

Chapter 22

Zhu Xi’s Political Philosophy in Context: With Special Focus on His Commentaries of the Four Books Youngmin Kim

1 Introduction Many intellectual historians and philosophers concur that late in the Song 宋 periods (960–1279) the most authoritative texts for the Chinese literati were displaced from the Five Classics—the Book of Changes, the Book of History, the Book of Poetry, the Book of Rites, and the Spring and Autumn Annals—to the Four Books— the Analects, the Mencius, the Great Learning, and the Doctrine of the Mean. At least, the Four Books became relatively more prominent around the end of the Song periods. Since then, the status of the Four Books as the most important classics has remained virtually unchanged for 800 years, although the Five Classics still had a crucial status until late Qing (1636–1912). Although each of the Four Books had attracted attention over the centuries preceding the Song dynasty, it was Zhu Xi 朱 熹 (1130–1200) who wrote influential commentaries on the Four Books and published them together as the Sizi 四子 (Four Masters), another name for the Four Books, in 1190. When the Yuan dynasty (1271–1368) instituted the civil service examinations in 1313–1315, the rulers adopted Zhu’s commentaries as their basis. In 1384, the Ming founder also reinstituted them as the curriculum of the civil service examinations. As there was almost no other access to office except through these examinations, Zhu’s commentaries had become required reading for anyone who aspired to become a member of the elite until the early decades of the twentieth century. Even after they had lost much of their appeal as required reading, they An earlier version of this article was first discussed at the second Middle Period Conference, held at Leiden University, in September 2017. I would like to thank the commentators for their comments on an earlier draft of this article. Unless otherwise indicated translations are my own. Y. Kim (*) Department of Political Science and International Relations, Seoul National University, Seoul, South Korea e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2020 K.-c. Ng, Y. Huang (eds.), Dao Companion to ZHU Xi’s Philosophy, Dao Companions to Chinese Philosophy 13, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-29175-4_22

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attracted Sinologists’ attention because they were arguably the most widely read texts in late imperial China. Accordingly, a large secondary literature has grown up around Zhu’s commentaries. Here I shall focus on more recent developments of intellectual history relating to them. First, scholars began to do full justice to the intellectual context in which Zhu’s formulation of the Four Books emerged. Contextual studies showed that Zhu’s philosophy did not occur in a vacuum, but evolved within the cultural milieu of the Song dynasty. Thanks to works by Peter Bol, Hoyt Tillman, Yu Yingshi 余英時, Shu Jingnan 束景南, and others, Zhu turned out to be part of larger intellectual trends of his own time. Wide-ranging studies of Song intellectual history also demonstrated that many other thinkers at that time paid attention to some of the Four Books. They include, but are not limited to, Xie Liangzuo 謝良佐 (1050–1103), Yang Shi 楊時 (1053–1135), Luo Congyan 羅從彥 (1072–1135), Lu Benzhong 呂本中 (1084–1145), Zhang Jicheng 張九成 (1092–1159), Hu Yin 胡寅 (1098–1156), and Zhang Shi 張栻 (1133–1180). In short, Zhu’s formulation of the Four Books was the outcome of the interplay among competing thinkers at that time, and the polemical tendencies fostered by such an atmosphere. Another important scholarly trend in regard to Zhu’s formulations is the focus on interlinear commentary as a vehicle for ideas rather than a mere supplement. Diachronic analysis of the commentarial tradition showed that the characteristic openness of the classical texts allowed for a wide range of interpretive voices. For example, John Makeham demonstrated that there are both continuities and discontinuities between commentaries on human psychology by Wang Bi 王弼 (226–249), Huang Kan 皇侃 (488–545), and Zhu. From Makeham’s perspective, the Chinese commentarial tradition consisted of discourses in which various individual commentators provided different answers to a shared set of key questions, such as how to become a sage (Makeham 2003: 250, 353–54). It is not the purpose of this chapter to arbitrate among different interpretations or produce the “right” reading of the Four Books. From an intellectual historian’s viewpoint, efforts to establish a single authoritative interpretation for classical texts are likely to end in failure. Different commentators offered different readings according to the interpretations that their audience found persuasive. Thus, the commentarial tradition often tells us more about the intellectual concerns of the interpreters and the age in which they were writing than about the classical texts themselves. That being so, this essay aims to uncover what Zhu’s commentaries, as a body of writing with its own integrity, tell us about his responses to particular sociopolitical realities. It will show that Zhu’s formulation of the Four Books was a highly political act, as designating and interpreting of canonical texts have always been so. To the extent that Zhu’s commentaries reflect the core of Dao Learning (daoxue 道學), this chapter also considers the historical significance of Dao Learning as a whole, which is based on the arguments presented in my A History of Chinese Political Thought (Kim 2018). This chapter has three main sections. The first assesses various perspectives on Song Dao Learning, particularly in its relation to the interpretation of the Four Books. In the second section, I proceed through a close reading of some of Zhu’s

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commentaries on the Four Books to argue that these can be best understood in terms of a departure from the Tang 唐 aristocratic model rather than a theoretical indebtedness to Tang Buddhism as such.1 In the third section, I maintain that Zhu’s vision, as embodied in his commentaries on the Four Books, represents a departure from the Northern Song 北宋 political culture rather than its continuation. In this process, I shall attempt to explain why Zhu’s commentaries take the form that they do—that is, to explore the assumptions and principles which determine the contents of the commentaries. The main text of the Four Books serves as a substantial yardstick against which the changes from pre-Song commentaries—which were standard readings until Zhu’s became popular—to Zhu’s can be perceived and measured. In other words, I shall establish as a foil for the newness of Zhu’s commentaries the commentaries prepared by Kong Anguo 孔安國 (fl. ca. 120 BCE), Bao Xian 包咸 (7 BCE–65 CE), Zheng Xuan 鄭玄 (127–200), He Yan 何晏 (190–249), and Huang Kan. By comparing their differing commentaries on key passages, we can relate the differences to their respective historical contexts. In the concluding part, with any luck, we will be able to situate Zhu’s sociopolitical vision within the larger historical context of mid- to late imperial China, thereby appreciating how the shifting situation of the elite and the scope of state action are related to corresponding intellectual history.

2 The Significance of Dao Learning Contested As for the theoretical and historical significance of Dao Learning, of which Zhu was a chief spokesman, we can identify five different explanations without being too schematic. First, scholars noted that Zhu employed an elaborate language of metaphysics, the origin of which was Buddhism: “Of Zhu’s numerous achievements, among the most heralded are the elaboration of a systematic Confucian metaphysics derived from an interpretive reading of the Four Books and a complex synthesis of ideas advanced by earlier thinkers in the Confucian school” (Gardner 2003: 22–23). However, it remains to be shown why Chinese intellectuals became enthusiastic about metaphysics at a particular juncture, given that they had been stimulated and challenged over the centuries by Buddhism. Tillman once suggested that we should refrain from the convention of depicting Dao Learning scholars as philosophers obsessed with metaphysics (Tillman 1992: 261). If the tradition of Chinese thought was full of a lively sense of engagement with contemporary political concerns, we should seek the link between metaphysics and its larger sociopolitical context (Yu 2004b: 401).

 This does not mean that Zhu Xi was not influenced by Buddhist metaphysics. The issue here is why and how Zhu employed the language of Buddhist metaphysics. 1

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Second, some scholars have attempted to explain the political appeal of Zhu’s vision as a ramification of the Northern Song’s collapse. When that dynasty collapsed, many intellectuals attributed it to the disastrous effects of the New Policies (xin fa 新法) of Wang Anshi 王安石 (1021–1086), which focused on large-scale and state-wide institutions. It is quite understandable that as enthusiasm for broad institutional reforms waned, intellectuals wanted to bring to the fore inner self-­ cultivation, which was characteristic of Zhu’s vision. According to Gardner, “there can be little doubt that the move at this time away from the Five Classics toward the Four Books signaled a decisive shift ‘inward’ for the Confucian school toward texts in the canon that treated more deliberately the inner realm of human morality” (Gardner 2003: 20–21). This does not mean that the practitioners of Dao Learning abandoned social concern. Rather, they adopted inner self-cultivation as a more fundamental way to bring order to the society (Gardner 2003: 14–16). In this connection, Dao Learning’s inward turn represents a critical response to Buddhism while it borrows Buddhist conceptual apparatus. By reworking Buddhist metaphysics in such a way that it was directed toward social responsibility rather than personal salvation, Zhu’s formulation of the Four Books fostered a new development in Chinese philosophy (Gardner 1986: 58; Makeham 2003: 195). Third, Conrad Schirokauer, Shu Jingnan, and like-minded scholars have focused on Zhu’s political thought in the narrow sense of the term (Shu 1992: 416). For example, Schirokauer’s study is based on Zhu’s view of the Great Learning and Sealed Memorial of 1188. Like other scholars, Schirokauer also believes that the core of Zhu’s political thought is that “government itself was, in the final analysis, an extension of self-cultivation” (Schirokauer 1978: 144). Although he is aware that Zhu’s self-cultivation is applicable to everyone, Schirokauer demonstrates that Zhu devoted a great deal of energy to the task of influencing an emperor who exercised the supreme leadership in the realm, because “[t]he ‘great basis of the world’ is the imperial mind” (Schirokauer 1978: 130–31). This kind of emperor-centered interpretation is counterpoised by the “democratic” interpretation on account of the relatively ready accessibility of the Four Books. For example, Gardner argued that “a sort of ‘democratization’ of the work had taken place. A guidebook for the political elite had now become a guidebook for anyone and everyone hoping to become part of the moral elite” (Gardner 1986: 58). This “democratic turn” was made possible by the relative simplicity of the Four Books. Whereas the Five Classics are much more scholastic and pedantic, the Four Books are more accessible to larger population (Gardner 1986: 14–16). Fourth, social historians have identified who constituted the “demos” in the “democratic turn” under the Song dynasty. Robert Hartwell and other like-minded scholars have argued that whereas the Northern Song elite wanted to concentrate on acting upon the national stage, the Southern Song 南宋 elite acted locally in terms of their residence and marriage alliance (Hartwell 1982; Schirokauer and Hymes 1993: 4). An important factor behind this turn to the local is the imbalance between the number of talented individuals and those of available bureaucratic posts. According to John W. Chaffee, competition in the triennial prefectural examinations in Zhu’s time was such that only one out of every 100 candidates could pass (Chaffee

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1989: 415). According to scholars such as Robert Hymes and Peter Bol, Dao Learning made an appeal to this enormous pool of highly educated losers in large part because its focus on personal morality provided an alternative basis for justifying their elite status. Consequently, the Southern Song witnessed a conscious move away from state-centered political and institutional reformism to local voluntary activism, which did not necessitate office-holding. In this interpretation, the Southern Song marks a watershed in the Chinese history of state–society relations. Fifth, in recent years, Yu Yingshi has explicitly challenged the above interpretations. His The Historical World of Zhu Xi (Zhuxi de lishi shijie 朱熹的歷史世界) takes issue with almost all conventional wisdom. First, according to Yu, it is wrong to suppose that Wang Anshi’s vision lacks inner self-cultivation. Quite the contrary is true. It was Wang who introduced inner self-cultivation to the Song thought. Second, Song Buddhism by no means advocated retreat from the mundane world— Song Buddhists were politically active. Third, the New Policies were not relegated to the background but occupied a central position in the Southern Song governance. Fourth, it is not true that Zhu and his followers advocated a turn to the local. Indeed, there is considerable evidence to the contrary. Like Wang Anshi, they primarily supported political action from the center and strove to find audience among those who wished to enter officialdom (Yu 2004b: 9, 422, 427). Although he did not mention it in his The Historical World of Zhu Xi, Yu made it clear in his reply to his critics that the target to be attacked was Robert Hymes and like-minded scholars who advocate the thesis of turning to the local (Yu 2004a). In the sections that follow, I shall make my own scholarly intervention in this debate through a close reading of Zhu’s commentaries on the Four Books. My central contention, in brief, is as follows: the core of Zhu’s commentaries can be best understood as an alternative to both Tang aristocratic culture and the Northern Song political culture. To paraphrase, Zhu’s vision presented an alternative to Tang political ideology rather than the metaphysics of Buddhism as such. And his vision offered a theoretical foundation for local activism, although he did not think of his vision as “local.”

3 From Outer to Inner: The Tang–Song Transition In this section, I shall revisit the thesis of turning to the local. Given that Wang Anshi also developed his own theory of moral psychology, it could be misleading to regard Dao Learning’s apparent inward turn only as a critical reaction against Wang Anshi. Instead, we might want to characterize Dao Learning and Wang Anshi’s learning as competing approaches to the inner state of human being. As for the inward turn as such, we would better make sense of it as a departure from Tang aristocratic culture. The distinction between person and self, as developed by Paul Monod, is useful when making sense of the difference between the social vision of the Tang and that of Dao Learning (Monod 1999: 18). In Monod’s usage, the person refers to social

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identity in its broadest sense, from official roles to conventional relations among family members, while the self refers to a more inwardly focused moral identity. During the Tang dynasty, before Dao Learning had become a dominant cultural outlook, it was the category of the “person” that mattered most. Social life was primarily about outward conformity to external standards, with little concern for moral substance. Ethical conduct was thus a matter of acting in accordance with external codes rather than abiding by internal moral standards. This meshed well with aristocratic culture, in which externalized conduct was indicative of one’s social background. In pre-Song aristocratic culture,2 learning served as a form of cultural cement among aristocrats. It was defined as a means of improving one’s interactions with others, rather than as a way to become an intrinsically better person. Thus, the ability to emulate good role models was emphasized. The source of the learning was often the family’s learned traditions. In other words, social norms of behavior came essentially from “external” family traditions rather than “internal” human nature. Common people did not have easy access to learning since it was something that was passed on through family transmission (Bol 1992). Dao Learning, on the other hand, was a powerful alternative to the Tang aristocratic culture. Recognizing the legitimacy and existence of the self rather than the “person,” it was concerned with the inner self, and thus emphasized introspection and the regulation of one’s mental state. The goal of introspection was to discern the underlying moral self. In the following, I will trace how this key aspect of the Tang–Song intellectual transition manifests itself in the commentarial tradition of the Four Books.

3.1 Humaneness Let us start with humaneness (ren 仁), arguably the most important concept in the Analects. Despite its paramount importance, however, Confucius made few theoretical reflections on humaneness as such. What he emphasized instead is that humaneness enables each agent to engender proper behaviors in interpersonal relations, and that the proper practice of behavior in turn cultivates humaneness. The following commentaries suggest that the ambiguous and uncertain meaning of humaneness prompted commentators to develop their own rendering of the concept. [Analects 4.3] The Master said, “Only one who is humane (ren 仁) is able to truly like others, or dislike others.” Kong Anguo’s commentary on Analects 4.3: “Only one who is humane is able to discern what others like and dislike.” (Huang 2013: 83)

 The following summary of Tang culture is based on Peter K. Bol 1992. “This Culture of Ours”: Intellectual Transitions in T’ang and Sung China. Stanford, California: Stanford University Press. 2

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Zhu Xi’s commentary on Analects 4.3: “Since the humane person is without a subjective mind (si xin 私心), then what he is fond of and what he detests are in accord with principle (li 理). This is what Master Cheng meant by ‘the attainment of what is impartial and correct.’ … When he sees what is good in a person, he is fond of it, and when he sees what is not good, he detests it.” (Makeham 2003: 240, translation slightly modified)

The above set of commentaries explains why only the humane person truly likes and dislikes others. What kind of virtue would allow one to achieve such a capacity of channeling emotion in an appropriate way? According to Kong, the key is the sensitivity of the humane person. Because the humane person is very attuned to what others like and dislike, he or she is able to channel his or her emotion in appropriate ways. In this outlook, the center of gravity exists in others’ disposition, to which one should be sensitive. In other words, the humane person cannot define his or her proper emotional response without reference to the other’s disposition. His or her humaneness is relative to other people’s likes and dislikes. In a sense, Kong’s interpretation echoes Confucius’ attitude toward humaneness. More often than not, Confucius said something important about ren 仁 (humaneness) by stating what it is not depending on shifting contexts. In addition, Confucius avoids discussing human nature (Analects 5.13). What he emphasized instead was that humaneness enables each agent to engender all the ritual practices appropriate to each situation. Wherein does Zhu differ from Kong Anguo? Above all, Zhu asserts that one’s proper emotional response does not depend on others’ disposition, but can be defined in accordance with principle (li 理). Therefore, the center of gravity exists not in other people’s disposition, but in one’s own inner state of the mind. Whether one is keenly aware of other people’s disposition is not central to becoming a humane person. What matters instead is whether one can cultivate one’s mind to the point that it is in accord with principle (li 理), which exists independently of others’ temperament. Only when one embodies principle (li 理) can one be a humane person whose emotional response is adequate in every situation. Thus, the human person “is able to truly like others, or dislike others.” The aim of the method of cultivating one’s mind is to get rid of the selfish or subjective mind. When one is able to cleanse the selfish or subjective mind fully, one achieves the state of being “impartial and correct,” which is the foundation for civic life. In summary, the commentaries of Kong and Zhu suggest two different answers to the problem of living together: Kong suggests that one should remain vigilant in monitoring others’ disposition and temperament; Zhu suggests that one should be vigilant even in solitude, focusing on one’s own state of mind.

3.2 Filial Piety [Analects 2.8] Zixia 子夏 asked about filial piety (xiao 孝). The Master said, “It is the demeanor that is difficult. If there is work to be done, disciples shoulder the burden, and when wine and food are served, elders are given precedence, but surely filial piety consists of more than this.”

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Bao Xian’s commentary on Analects 2.8: “What is meant by “it is the demeanor that is difficult” is this: it is difficult to show reverence for parents by considering their demeanor.” (Hattori 1978: 20, under Analects 2.8) Zhu Xi’s commentary on Analects 2.8: “A filial son who deeply loves his parents necessarily has a harmonious disposition; the one who has a harmonious air necessarily has a joyful demeanor; the one who has a joyful demeanor necessarily has an amiable countenance. It is the reason why the demeanor is difficult in serving parents. Taking upon the burden of work to be done and offering sustenance do not constitute filial piety. According to an old interpretation, the point of the passage is such that ‘it is difficult to show reverence for parents by considering their demeanor.’ It also makes sense.” (Zhu 1983: 56)

The central question is whether “demeanor” (se 色) should be understood as involving one’s internal emotional state as well as external expressions. In Bao Xian’s interpretation, what matters in fulfilling filial piety (xiao 孝) is to show reverence to one’s parents in such a way that one’s actions should be in accordance with the parents’ demeanor. The ultimate standard of filial piety exists outside: the parents’ demeanor. By contrast, in Zhu’s commentary, proper demeanor should be accompanied by its corresponding internal state. Seen in this way, filial piety is much more than a matter of appearances; it should also involve deep affection and a willing heart. Taken together, the pre-Song commentary supposes that the source of the social norm and the ability to maintain social order exist ultimately in the external world, whereas in Zhu’s commentary these are to be found in the innermost aspect of the self. The self in the pre-Song commentary is never heroic, because it is not one’s own virtue but one’s reliance on external sources that allows one to triumph over things and the desire aroused by them. Social life was primarily about outward conformity to external standards, with little concern for moral substance. By contrast, the self in Zhu’s commentary possesses a strong internal dimension, because ethical conduct was a matter of abiding by internal moral standards rather than acting in accordance with external codes. The goal of inner self-cultivation is to discern the underlying moral self who can take a critical stance toward externally defined norms if necessary.3

3.3 Human Nature Where, then, do humans get the capacity to channel desires in a proper way? According to Zhu Xi, they are endowed with it at birth. As is well known, Dao Learning offers a new philosophical anthropology whereby the capacity for  The question of the frailty of humans and its relation to an external social norm leads one to consider the nature of desire, which is often believed to pose threats to society when it is not properly kept under control. Differing commentaries on the Analects 5.11 shows how Zhu redefined desire and its relation to human nature. On the detailed discussion of this issue, see Kim (2018: 103–04). 3

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g­ oodness is inherent within all people. It differs not only from that of Wang Anshi, who believed that one cannot speak of human nature itself as being either good or evil,4 but also from Mencius, who believed that human beings possess sprouts of goodness rather than fully fledged sagehood. The challenge for Zhu as a commentator of the Four Books is that Confucius never proposed such a theory of human nature. [Analects 5.13] Zigong 子貢 said, “One can get to hear about the Master’s cultural expression (wen zhang 文章), but one cannot get to hear the Master expounding upon the subjects of human nature (xing 性) and the Heavenly Way (tian dao 天道).” (Slingerland 2003: 44–45) Huang Kan’s commentary on Analects 5.13: “Confucius’ nature and the way of heaven-­ and-­earth’s goodness and unimpeded flow had aligned their powers (de 德) to a common goal. This place is profound and remote and is not something that is understood by ordinary people. Accordingly, they cannot get to hear his words.” (Makeham 2003: 138) Zhu Xi’s commentary on Analects 5.13: “the Sage [Confucius] taught people the broad outline. He spoke only of filiality, brotherliness, fidelity, and trust, words for daily use and constant practice.… Such terms as ‘mind’ and ‘human nature’ were not spoken of in detail until Zisi and Mengzi.” (Olberding 2014: 43)

In this passage, wen zhang 文章 (cultural expression) is counterpoised by human nature (xing 性) and the Heavenly Way (tian dao 天道). Wen zhang 文章 (cultural expression) possesses external appearances and forms; xing 性 (human nature) and tian dao 天道 (the Heavenly Way) do not. Why do Confucius’ disciples attend to the former but not the latter? Perhaps, the easiest way to answer this question is that Confucius was not interested in such topics as human nature (xing 性) and the Heavenly Way (tian dao 天道). Indeed, it is hard to find any occasions in the Analects when Confucius expounds on them. The current version of the Analects includes only one mention of human nature (xing 性) (Analects 17.2). Therefore, earlier commentators simply held that Confucius indeed did not discuss such “profound and subtle” matters and instead let his disciples focus on the task at hand. For Zhu, this passage should represent something of a puzzle. For him, it would be strange that Confucius, the sage who is supposed to know the profound truth of the world, did not concern himself much with metaphysical subjects or did not share his thoughts with his disciples. Zhu exercised his ingenuity to render the passage, implying that Confucius was waiting until his disciples had reached the point where they could understand discourses on human nature and the Heavenly Way. Otherwise, such speculative matters might well detract their attention away from daily self-­ cultivation such as how to act in accordance with ritual. This interpretation implies that there are appropriate grades in learning that students should not overstep. The above passage is an expression not of frustration but of exclamation when Zigong finally reaches a high state of learning and is beginning to hear the Master expounding upon the subjects of human nature (xing 性) and the Heavenly Way (tian dao 天道).  On Wang’s view of human nature, see his essay Exploring the Foundation of Human Nature (Yuan Xing 原性). 4

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Given that there is no further information on Zigong’s situation at that time, we are not in a position to tell whether Zhu’s interpretation is persuasive enough. It probably tells us more about Zhu’s deep commitment to the metaphysical dimension of the world.

3.4 Human Nature and Human Commonality What distinguishes Zhu’s view of human nature from that of earlier commentators is the issue of human commonality. Dao Learning chooses the moral disposition among many human dispositions and defines it as “nature.” This claims an absolute understanding of what we are as persons, and offers us an intense experience of the self’s identity. The proponents of Dao Learning believe that all human beings are unified by the same moral nature. Of course, they do know that we are different at an immediate level. However, they believe that all of us are ultimately the same. By the same token, everyone, not just member of aristocratic families, can realize this unitary moral nature, thereby becoming a sage. Seen from this perspective, a human being is never quite a unique individual. Such a notion of human commonality reflects Dao Learning’s belief in the existence of an ontological foundation for shared value in society. That is, even if we are different at an immediate level, we ultimately represent shared value, since we are endowed with the same moral nature. In this way, personal morality is synonymous with public morality. [Analects 4.7] The Master said, “People can be grouped according to the mistakes they make. Observe the mistakes and will know what kind of person one is.” Kong Anguo’s commentary on Analects 4.7: “The fact that petty people are not able to act like gentlemen is not their fault, and so one should be understanding and not blame them. If you observe their mistakes, you can put both the worthies and the fools in their proper places, and this is what it means to be Good.” (Slingerland 2003: 32) Zhu Xi’s commentary on Analects 4.7: “Humans can be classified according to the mistakes they make. The most common mistakes for gentlemen is being too generous; for petty men being too mean. Gentlemen are unduly compassionate; petty men cruel.” (Zhu 1983: 71)

The apparent message of this passage is that one can reveal one’s true character when one makes a mistake. At the same time, this passage can serve as a medium for determining how commentators think about human commonality, because the expression “grouped” might be interpreted as denying its existence. Indeed, Kong Anguo suggests such a reading. One can find a clear hierarchy between the types of human being in Kong’s reading. It leaves little possibility that petty people might become gentlemen. By contrast, Zhu believes that there is a profound human commonality beyond the apparent hierarchy between gentlemen and petty men. In his

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commentary, Zhu cites a remark by Cheng Yi 程頤 (1033–1107) which deals with gentlemen and petty men as those who share human foibles. The differences between gentlemen and petty men, Cheng argues, are ones of tone and degree rather than of substance. [Analects 13.12] The Master said, “If a true king were to arise, though, we would certainly see a return to humaneness (ren 仁) after a single generation.” (Slingerland 2003: 144, translation slightly modified) Kong Anguo’s commentary on Analects 13.12: “The Master said, ‘If there were a true king, it would surely be only a generation before there was truly good government.’” (Gardner 2003: 110) Huang Kan’s commentary on Analects 13.12: “The reason why it takes a generation is that it takes thirty years for bad people to disappear and for good people to emerge. Only then is it easy to transform inborn endowment and civilize people.” (Huang 2013: 334) Zhu Xi’s commentary on Analects 13.12: “Someone asked, some say that it takes three years; others a generation. Why do they differ in assessing necessary time? Master Cheng said, ‘it may take five years to complete the control of regulatory institutions and see the effects of their transformative operation.’ However, one can speak of humaneness only when people are under the civilizing influence of humanness and rightness to the extent that it percolates people’s skin and penetrates people’s bones.” (Zhu 1983: 144)

The quoted passage is about the transformative power of the true king’s virtue. What is less clear in the passage is exactly what is transformed by the true king. To determine the object of the transformation, we need to know what is meant by the final character, ren 仁. Kong Anguo renders the final character ren 仁 as ren zheng 仁政 (humane governance). By this, he suggests that the true king brings about a certain style of governance, which is not necessarily involved in the nature of the governed. Huang Kan’s commentary makes it explicit that the existing common people, who have already been subjected to a bad influence, are not transformable, and thus that one should wait until a new generation of people emerges. That is, Huang Kan is not very sanguine about the extent to which the common people are malleable. In contrast, Zhu’s commentary invests the passage with a different view on human transformability. As Gardner observed, “no longer is it the government alone, led by a true king, that is made good, but all the people fortunate enough to be subject to the king’s moralizing influence. Such is the stimulating resonance that can occur between beings of like nature—in this case, the good ruler and the people he governs” (Gardner 2003: 110). In other words, the reason why it takes the gradual process of 30 years to experience the positive effect of the true king’s rule is that the true king aims to transform the very nature of the common people. It is Zhu’s notion of the goodness of human nature that underpins this new interpretation of Analects 13.12.

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4 From Center to “Local”: The Northern Song–Southern Song Transition Scholars like Yu Yingshi and Schirokauer regard Zhu’s political thought as a top-­ down view of political order. In their views, the political power of a ruler is essentially based on the supreme position at the top of the hierarchical bureaucracy. When a ruler issues an edict, individual subjects under him are expected to obey those above themselves in a hierarchical order and to conduct themselves in relation to the bureaucratic management (Yu 2004b: 455). The same can be said of a ruler who relies primarily on moral suasion rather than a hierarchical chain of command. A ruler can exert moral influence upon the ruled as a whole because he is at the top of the social pyramid. In other words, political hierarchy resolves the tension between part (ruler as an individual) and whole (society at large). According to Yu Yingshi and Schirokauer, that is why Zhu wanted to influence a ruler and top governmental officials. Consider how Schirokauer reconstructs Zhu’s conception of a part–whole relationship. The order of things is such that it is “a system in which all parts are inter-connected and mutually dependent but in which some parts are more important than others” (Schirokauer 1978: 131). In particular, “Zhu’s emphasis on the imperial virtue can result in elevating the emperor to a plane of existence far above that of his officials or the people at large” (Schirokauer 1978: 140). Seen from this kind of top-down perspective, the moral perfection of each part is more of a means than an ends, because the ultimate goal is primarily to achieve perfect concord among the parts. For an emperor, the ideal subjects are the ones who are diligent in their service, take their rightful place as parts of a vast, interlocking organic system, and are fixed on well-defined roles. However, the ruler-centered perspective in the Sealed Memorial of 1188 hardly exhausts the complexity of Zhu’s vision. Given that the target audience of the Sealed Memorial is an emperor, this text may not serve as the primary window through which we can view Zhu’s political thought as whole. To appreciate fully the part– whole relations in Zhu’s vision, we need to consider a larger vision of the proper state of things in which everything, including an emperor, finds its niche. Such a vision can be found in Dao Learning’s notion of li 理 (principle). Practitioners of Dao Learning see the universe as structured and unified at every level by “pattern” or “principle.” Dao Learning understands unity to be great and all-embracing, despite its diverse manifestations. Yu Yingshi argued that diverse manifestations of principle (li 理) must be controlled by the unitary principle (Yu 2004b: 176). However, such a conception of li 理 (principle) was popular in early imperial periods. The Dao Learning idea of li is different from that in early imperial periods, in that it expresses a Buddhist-inspired universal identity rather than merely a grand, interconnected pattern or order (Ivanhoe 1990). In other words, Dao Learning’s unity is not the kind of unity that is generated by connecting multiple parts. It is unity in the sense that each of the myriad things contains the essence of the whole universe. In short, a thing in the world is a microcosmos in itself, not part of the cosmos.

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The idea of the self’s underlying identity with the world, first and foremost, resolved the vexed relationship between self and world, and brought about the emphasis on self-rectification as the essential method of fulfilling social responsibility. Now the self is not a freestanding, partial, or isolated individual but a great being on whom things in the world, in their entirety, depend. The main consequence of this notion is that the possibility of appropriating the whole world is inherent in the very structure of the self. To realize one’s authentic existence (human nature) means to realize the principle of the world. In this way, the proponents of Dao Learning are still able to lay claim to the larger world beyond the apparently limited range of the individual self. And this is why they take seriously a particular passage in the Doctrine of the Mean. [O]ne who is able to bring to full realization the nature of all existing things can partake thereby in the transformative and generative process of Heaven and Earth. He who can partake in the transformative and generative processes of Heaven and Earth can stand, by virtue of this capacity, as a third term between them in the cosmic continuum. (Plaks 2003: 44) Zheng Xuan’s commentary on: “Partaking refers to helping. Generative process refers to producing.”5 (Hattori 1978: 18, under Commentary on the Doctrine of the Mean) Kong Anguo’s commentary on: “This passage explains the highest degree of integral wholeness and the Way of sages.”6 (Wei 2011: 247) Zhu Xi’s commentary on: “The full realization of one’s inborn nature means that there is nothing unilluminating in one’s knowing and nothing improper in one’s action. Partaking means helping. Being a third term between Heaven and Earth means that one can be on an equal footing with Heaven and Earth as a third term in the cosmic continuum. This is the state of affairs of those who maintain their own integral wholeness and intelligence.” (Zhu 1983: 33)

The above citation is a passage in the Doctrine of the Mean and commentaries attached to it. The main passage describes the achievement of those who have attained the highest degree of integral wholeness. They eventually come to a full realization of all existing things by becoming a true counterpart of the cosmic forces. Both Zheng and Kong attach little more than a simple gloss to this superhuman vision. By contrast, Zhu stresses how heroic it is by elaborating the meaning of the passage. Whereas little attention had been given to this part of the Doctrine of the Mean in early imperial periods, the proponents of Dao Learning highlighted it to the point that it came to function as a cliché in the literati’s discourse (Metzger 1986). This shows that while practitioners of Dao Learning engaged themselves in local voluntarism, they were not mere local strongmen who had rather narrow horizons, living essentially by supplying local needs. Despite the fact that from the Southern Song onward elites moved massively into local society, seeking other ways to lead  The rest part of Zheng’s commentary repeats the main text of the Doctrine of the Mean.  The rest part of Kong’s commentary repeats the main text of the Doctrine of the Mean.

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their lives than finding a position in the central government, there is a possibility that they stood somewhere between the central government and their local base, wholly identifying with neither. What distinguishes the mid- to late imperial local elite, who practice Dao Learning, from earlier local strongmen is the significance that they imparted to their apparently local activities.

4.1  Ge wu 格物 How, then, can one impart such heroic significance to their apparently provincial activities? This is where the issue of ge wu 格物 (investigation of things) comes in. For Zhu, ge wu 格物 (investigation of things) in the Great Learning represents the primary method of self-cultivation. As the characters of ge 格 and wu 物 are philologically ambiguous, there is disagreement as to what they mean. [The Great Learning] “Extending one’s knowledge to the utmost lie in ge wu 格物.” Zheng Xuan’s commentary on: “Ge 格 means lai 來, ‘to come.’ ‘Wu 物 is the same as shi 事,’ ‘affair.’ … ‘When one’s knowledge of the good is profound, one attracts (lai 來) good things. When one’s knowledge of evil is profound, one attracts evil things. In other words, things come to a man according to what he is found of.’” (Hattori 1978: 2, under Commentaries on the Great Learning) Zhu Xi’s commentary on: “Ge 格 means zhi 至, ‘to arrive at,’ ‘to reach.’ Wu 物 is the same as shi 事, ‘affair.’ Gewu 格物 is ‘to reach to the utmost the principle in affairs and things.’ … ‘If we wish to extend our knowledge to the utmost, we must probe thoroughly the principle in those things that we encounter.’” (Zhu 1983: 4)

As Gardner explained, Zheng Xuan took ge wu 格物—the sort of things attracted— to be a consequence of zhi zhi 致知—the sort of knowledge that is extended; Zhu, by contrast, “took ge wu 格物 to be the method of zhi zhi 致知 rather than its consequence” (Gardner 1986: 53–55). Not content with writing a line-by-line commentary on ge wu 格物, Zhu inserted the so-called “supplementary chapter” (134 characters) into the Great Learning text to expound on the meaning of this term. Why does ge wu 格物 matter so much? It is because it is not merely a process of acquiring empirical knowledge but a process of accepting unity as the true state of oneself and world. If we lose sight of the underlying principle (li 理), we cannot attain a complete and proper understanding of the nature of reality.

4.2 From Ruler/the State to Principle With the rise of Dao Learning, new ideas emerge as to what the ultimate source of authority is and how political actors, including the emperor, should relate to it. Among other things, Dao Learning replaces the ultimate position of monarch with

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that of principle (li 理). To appreciate the significance of this change, let us examine Analects 5.6: The Master recommended that Qidiao Kai 漆彫開 take a government office. Qidiao Kai replied, “I am not yet sure of (xin 信) it (si 斯).” The Master was pleased. Kong Anguo’s commentary on Analects 5.6: “As for the way of official career, the one who is not yet sure of it has not been able to explore and practice it.” (Huang 2013: 101) Zhu Xi’s commentary on Analects 5.6: “‘It’ refers to this principle. ‘Sure of’ means knowing truly what principle is like.” (Zhu 1983: 76)

The quoted passage shows that when Qidiao Kai chose not to take office because he lacked confidence in “it,” Confucius was pleased. It follows that one needs confidence in “it” in order to take office. What, then, is “it”? Because the original text uses a pronoun si 斯 to refer to it, commentators focus on the question of how to interpret si 斯. Kong Anguo interprets it as the way of an official career. In addition, from the expression “practice” (xi 習) we can infer that the way of an official career is not something abstract but practicably concrete. That is, the central message of the passage is that seekers of office should familiarize themselves with the concrete official task to the point that they have confidence in it. By contrast, Zhu renders si 斯 as li 理 (principle). And principle (li 理) is not something practicably concrete but the object of profound cognitive apprehension (zhen zhi 真知). What do we make of this change? According to John Makeham, “contrary to the conventional interpretation of this passage in which Qidiao is understood to be an unassuming disciple, in Zhu’s hands, he emerges as someone with an unquenchable desire to exhaust pattern” (Makeham 2003: 194). However, Qidiao may still be regarded as unassuming in admitting that those who have not completely grasped principle (li 理) would not be able to act as good officials. My interpretation is that by replacing the concrete task of acting as an official with the metaphysical entity, Zhu places the task of governance on a different foundation, that is, that of metaphysics.7 To appreciate the ramification of this new foundation of governance, we need to examine other textual evidence.

4.3 The Question of Government Office Let us consider two different translations of the same passage of the Analects. [14.1] (translation 1) Yuan Si 原思 asked about shame. The Master said, “When the state has the Way (dao 道), accept a salary; when the state is without the Way (dao 道), to accept a salary is shameful.” (Slingerland 2003: 153)

 Another example in which Zhu replaced the ruler/state by li 理 (principle) is the Analects 3.13. On the differing interpretations of 3.13, see Kim (2018: 164–66). 7

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Y. Kim [14.1] (translation 2) Hsien 憲 asked about the shameful. The Master said, “It is shameful to make salary your sole object, irrespective of whether the Way (dao 道) prevails in the state or not.” (Lau 1979: 124) Kong Anguo’s commentary on the Analects 14.1: “When the state has the Way (dao 道), one should accept a salary; if one participates in the court of the ruler who does not have the Way and accept a salary, it is shameful.” (Huang 2013: 349) Huang Kan’s commentary on the Analects 14.1: “In order to mention what is shameful, Confucius first mentions what is not shameful.” (Huang 2013: 349) Zhu Xi’s commentary on the Analects 14.1: [Consider two situations.] When the state has the Way, one is not able to do something meaningful. When the state is without the Way, there is nothing one can do for oneself. If one accepts a salary in these cases, it is shameful. Yuansi is upright in a stubborn manner. Therefore, he would know that it is shameful to accept a salary when the state is without the Way. As for the possibility that it could be shameful to accept a salary even when the state has the Way, he may not know it. Thus, the Master mentioned both cases, thereby broadening the horizon of Yuansi’s commitment when Yuansi asked the question. The Master’s intention is to let Yuansi know how to help oneself and eventually do something meaningful. (Zhu 1983: 148–49)

Slingerland’s translation of 14.1 is based on pre-Song commentaries like those of Kong Anguo and Huang Kan; Lau’s is based on Zhu’s commentary. Grammatically speaking, the difference between the two translations is a matter of whether the character “chi 恥” (shameful) is applicable to the entire sentence or only to the latter half. According to pre-Song commentaries, which apply “chi 恥” to the latter half of the sentence only, what is shameful is to be an official when the state is without the Way. It is perfectly legitimate to serve the state if the state has the Way. In other words, one is left with two options: to be an official or to be a recluse. By contrast, according to Zhu’s commentary, regardless of whether the state has the Way, it is shameful to be an official if one is not ready to do good works. What truly matters is not whether one gets a position in the government but whether one cultivates oneself to the point that one can be a good person in any situation. A fully cultivated person would be a good official, of course. And yet self-realization is not reducible to office-holding. [Analects 13.25] The Master said, “The gentleman (jun zi 君子) is easy to serve, but hard to please. If you attempt to please him in a manner not in accordance with the Way (dao 道), he will not be pleased, but when he employs others, he does so in consideration of their particular capacities.” (Slingerland 2003: 150) Kong Anguo’s commentary on Analects 13.25 : [The jun zi 君子 (a gentleman)] does not demand that one person is fully rounded, and thus it is easy to work under him.… [The jun zi 君子] assigns people to offices only after having assessed their capabilities. (Huang 2013: 345) Zhu Xi’s commentary on Analects 13.25: “does so in consideration of their particular capacities” means that [the jun zi 君子] employs people according to their particular capacities. The jun zi 君子 (a gentleman)’s mind is impartial. He shows profound empathy for other people. (Zhu 1983: 148)

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The message of the quoted passage is that the jun zi 君子 possesses a great sensitivity to other’s abilities and, at the same time, sticks to moral standards without being swayed by bribes or flattery. The central question is how to interpret “does so,” which would specify the meaning of “employ others.” Kong Anguo renders “does so” as assigning offices. It implies that the jun zi 君子 is the person at the top of bureaucratic hierarchy who has the right to fill governmental posts. Zhu interprets “does so” quite differently. For him, it means the general notion of exercising leadership over other people. Accordingly, the jun zi 君子 does not have to be a ruler whose power is to assign offices. In short, Kong Anguo’s audience is likely to be rulers; Zhu’s is a larger leadership class. By the same token, a different set of qualities are required for the jun zi 君子. Kong Anguo’s jun zi 君子 should possess the sense of gauging the abilities of subordinates; Zhu’s jun zi 君子 should possess impartiality, which gives rise to empathy for fellow human beings.8 [Analects 8.14] The Master said, “Do not discuss matters of government policy that do not fall within the scope of your official duties.” (Slingerland 2003: 82–83) Kong Anguo’s commentary on Analects 8.14: [Confucius, or a ruler] desires each to concentrate on his or her own job. (Huang 2013: 196) Zhu Xi’s commentary on Analects 8.14: The Master Cheng said, if one does not occupy the position of an official, one does not undertake the task [associated with the position]. On request of a ruler and officials, one undertakes such tasks. (Zhu 1983: 106)

According to Kong, this statement describes restrictions on one’s actions imposed by a ruler or Confucius himself. Although the statement does not specify who wants to impose this restriction, Kong makes a comment from the perspective of the person who does so. From this perspective, the statements can be best understood as a criticism of those who infringe on the official duties of others and act above their stations. By contrast, Zhu makes the effort to carve out a legitimate rationale for participation for those who are not in the position of an official in question. According to Zhu’s interpretation, one may provide general moral guidance or specific administrative advice when officials ask for it. The assumption behind this interpretation is not only that non-officials have the capacity to participate in governance whenever appropriate, but also that there are cooperative state–society relations. The first assumption is related to Zhu’s conviction that the task of self-cultivation was not limited to officials, but everyone’s business. [Analects 19.13] Zixia 子夏 said, “One who excels in his official position should then devote himself to learning. One who excels in learning should then devote himself to official service.” (Slingerland 2003: 225)

 In commentaries on 11.1 and 16.6 in the Analects, one can find other attempts by Zhu to redefine the meaning of jun zi 君子. In 11.1, Zhu bothers to get rid of the character shi 仕 (being an official) in Kong Anguo’s commentary. 8

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Zhu adds a few more comments to traditional ones. Most noteworthy is that the same principle penetrates official service and learning despite their apparent differences at the level of “circumstances.” This observation is of vital importance in that it puts official service and learning on the same footing. The implication is that there is no fundamental hierarchy between government officials and literati. This view echoes the following discussion of a sage-ruler. [Mencius 7B.6] Mencius said, “When Shun 舜 lived on dried rice and wild vegetables, it was as though he was going to do this for the rest of his life. But when he became Emperor, clad in precious robes, playing on his lute, with the two daughters [of Yao] in attendance, it was as though this was what he had been used to all his life.” (Lau 1970: 195) Zhao Qi’s 趙岐 (c. 108–201) commentary on Mencius 7B.6: When he was earning a living through farming and baking pottery, Shun ate dried rice and wild vegetables. It was as if he was going to do this for the rest of his life. But when he became Emperor, clad in precious robes, playing musical instruments such as drums and zithers to harmonize sounds, with the two daughters [of Yao 堯] in attendance. Shun keeps up appearances as if he should have all these. (Hattori 1978: 5, under Mencius 7B.6) Zhu Xi’s commentary on Mencius 7B.6: The mind of a sage is not vulnerable to outer stimuli because of low economic and social status and is not restless because of high economic and social status. Sages are at ease wherever they may be, without being at the mercy of things around them. It is so because sages’ received allotment of nature is fixed. (Zhu 1983: 365–66)

The puzzle for commentators is how to explain the apparent adaptability of Shun, who used to be a mere commoner and became a ruler. The most telling difference between Zhao Qi’s commentary and Zhu’s is that whereas Zhao focuses on the appearance of Shun, which is at ease despite dramatic changes in his surrounding environment, Zhu focuses on the unchanging foundation below the surface. In Zhu’s view, the key to Shun’s adaptability lies not in the lack of constant substance, but, on the contrary, in its constant nature. One of the implications of this commentary is that the essence of human being exists independently of the hierarchy of sociopolitical status such as a commoner and ruler. The irony is that such seemingly apolitical human nature serves as the key to proper governance. Only those who realize the constancy of human nature can bring order to the world as Shun did. [Analects 15.32] The Master said, “The gentleman devotes his thoughts to attaining the Way, not to obtaining food. In the pursuit of agriculture, there is the possibility of starvation; in the pursuit of learning, there is the possibility of salary. The gentleman is concerned about the Way and not about poverty.” (Slingerland 2003: 187) Zheng Xuan’s commentary on Analects 15.32: If one does not learn even when one devotes one’s thoughts to agriculture, it may bring starvation. If one learns, one gets a salary. Even

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when one does not engage oneself in agriculture, there is no possibility of starvation. One should be encouraged to learn. (Huang 2013: 411) Zhu Xi’s commentary on Analects 15.32: Agriculture is a way to seek food. And yet it does not guarantee food. Learning is a way to seek the Way. And yet there is a possibility of a salary in learning. As for learning, what deserves being worried over is whether one reaches the Way (dao 道). One does not learn in order to get a salary because one is worried about poverty. (Zhu 1983: 167)

In Zheng’s commentary, the purpose of learning is to get a salary by taking office. To Zhu’s mind, this may be too vulgar, given his emphasis on “learning for the sake of oneself.” This is not to say that Zhu decouples any conceivable relationship between learning and office-holding. The relationship between government officials and those who learn can be considered collegial rather than hierarchical, if those who learn exist outside of a clear chain of command. [Analects 3.24] A border official from the town of Yi requested an audience with the Master, saying, “I have never failed to obtain an audience with the gentlemen who have passed this way.” Confucius’ followers thereupon presented him. After emerging from the audience, the border official remarked, “You disciples, why should you be concerned about your Master’s loss of office? The world has been without the Way for a long time now, and Heaven intends to use your Master like the wooden clapper for a bell.” (Slingerland 2003: 27) Kong Anguo’s commentary Analects 3.24: The wooden clapper for a bell is used when promulgating official announcements. This passage means that Heaven will let Confucius create regulatory institutions to make official announcements to all under Heaven. (Huang 2013: 79) Zhu Xi’s commentary Analects 3.24: The wooden bell consists of a golden mouth and a wooden tongue. It is used in order to alert people when promulgating official announcements. The passage says that when extreme chaos creates the need for order, Heaven will let Confucius have a position to establish teaching. It would not take long until Confucius got a position. Given that the border official admires Confucius after meeting him only once, what the border official perceives is profound. Someone says, “The bell is used by itinerant collectors who circulate around the roads of the realm.” It means that the reason why Heaven makes Confucius lose his official position is that it wants him to wander through the realm in order to practice/spread his teaching. It is like the wooden bell perambulating around the roads of the realm. (Zhu 1983: 68)

The event described in the above passage took place during Confucius’ sojourn in Wei 魏 after losing his office as Criminal Judge in the state of Lu 魯. According to traditional commentaries, the border official from the town of Yi 儀 may be a sage in hiding who understands the sacred mission of Confucius, or at least someone who may be disillusioned by the affairs of those chaotic and unvirtuous times affairs and feel that something should be done to reform the corruption of the world. Otherwise, it is hard to explain his prophetic words for Confucius’ disciples. According to the border official, Confucius will fulfill his mission as the wooden clapper. The question becomes: how are we to understand the metaphor of the wooden clapper? Kong Anguo describes the mission as being like a public official who makes an official announcement. Although the content of the announcement is

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not clear from the metaphor, it is certain that Confucius’ mission will be fulfilled through the power of the government. In addition to this traditional commentary, Zhu bothered to add an alternative interpretation which likens Confucius’ mission to that of a wanderer who circulates around the realm. Given that Confucius wanders around the realm because he has lost his previous public office, we can say that staying out of office is the very condition that enables him to fulfill his mission.9

4.4 Voluntarism [Mencius 5A.7] Heaven, in producing the people, has given to those who first attain understanding the duty of awakening those who are slow to understand; and to those who are the first to awaken the duty of awakening those who are slow to awaken. I am amongst the first of Heaven’s people to awaken. (Lau 1970: 146) Zhao Qi’s commentary Mencius 5A.7: “By the Way of humaneness and rightness, I want to awaken those who are slow to understand. If I do not awaken them, who will give instruction?” (Hattori 1978: 20, under Mencius 5A.7) Zhu Xi’s commentary Mencius 5A.7: “Awakening refers to becoming enlightened about how the principle is … [Cheng Yi said:] As for their awakening, it is not that I give them what I possess. They all possess this principle for themselves. All I do is merely to awaken them. That is all.” (Zhu 1983: 310)

This passage explains Yi Yin’s 伊尹 decision to engage in politics. Having refused appointment as an official at Tang’s court because of his pledge to a political retreat, Yi never responded to the invitation until Tang sent a messenger for the third time. The major motivating factor for Yi’s engagement was the idea that if he does not hold office at Tang’s court, he would not be able to fulfill his mission as the first of Heaven’s people to awaken. Probably everyone has the potential to awaken. However, there is always an unfavorable contrast between the first of Heaven’s people to awaken and those who are slow to awaken. This reality presented itself to commentators as the problem of how to define the relationship between the two groups of people. Noteworthy in Zhu’s commentary is the voluntarism of those who are slow to awaken. Whereas Zhao Qi conceives of them as passive subjects who need to be instructed by the first of Heaven’s people to awaken, Zhu holds that the first of Heaven’s people should serve as stimuli that push other people to develop their moral potential in an entirely voluntarist manner. That is, the awakening of people taken as a whole depends on an appeal to people’s self-realization and voluntary compliance with the moral principle with which everyone is endowed at birth. Figuratively speaking, what Zhao Qi offers as an educative process is like the father chastising his son to get him into good habits. By contrast, Zhu believes that everyone can transform himself or herself into a fully developed moral agent, once one  For another relevant passage on this issue, see the Analects 11.2

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exposes oneself to proper stimuli at the initial stage. This idea of self-getting (zi de 自得) constitutes the theoretical foundation for voluntary moral action, which does not necessitate the state intervention. Zhao Qi’s commentary is imbued with a top-­ down and strongly elitist orientation, while Zhu’s supports voluntarism, which is premised on an egalitarian starting point.10 For Zhu, a desirable society is such that people’s voluntary activities are undertaken in the general, common, or public interest. Indeed, in past decades, historical research has been done to document a significant increase in the level of voluntary and non-governmental activity in  local societies in mid- to late imperial China. Last but not least, note that while anyone is able to generate ideological legitimacy and political authority on their own without validation from the dynastic polity, decoupling of the ultimate source of authority from the dynastic polity does not necessarily give way to local authority. (After all, Yi accepted the invitation from Tang’s court.) What Dao Learning practitioners regarded as the public good was not defined entirely by the interests of the state or by local connections. The promise of Dao Learning is that, regardless of their social status, everyone can get access to the metaphysical realm by becoming a sage. Seen from the perspective of the metaphysical realm, the apparently local activities of Dao Learning practitioners were not necessarily “local” in their significance, despite the fact that they laid great emphasis on establishing a firm local foundation. So, even when they devised or made use of institutions of a decidedly local cast, they never were small-town dwellers with narrow horizons, living essentially by supplying local needs, but heroic figures who possessed a strong sense of cosmic purpose and enjoyed a comparable degree of moral authority independent of the power of the state.

5 Conclusion The overarching aim of this chapter has been to provide an interpretive inquiry into Zhu’s engagement with his historical world by reading his commentaries on the Four Books. Its purpose was not to arrive at a single correct reading of the Four Books, but to show connections between Zhu’s commentaries on the Four Books and Song intellectual history. Commentators such as Zhu want to create meanings that reflect changing interests and values. As of the Southern Song, there was a long-­ term transformation of social structures, and therefore of the very idea of being political as well. Zhu was among those in the Southern Song elite who sought to reconfigure their place in Chinese society. At the same time, few Song thinkers devoted great energy to the task of redefining canons and commenting on them.

 Zhu’s commentary on Mencius 7A.9 (Lau 1970: 183) also shows Zhu’s view of how a non-governmental official contribute to ordering the world. Even when commenting on Mencius’ statements the target audience of which is a ruler, Zhu relegates a ruler to the position of one of the myriad things. 10

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Why did Zhu choose line-by-line commentaries as the primary medium through which to elaborate and present his philosophy? It would be anachronistic to suppose that Zhu did so in order to get imperial patronage. As one of the literati who did not occupy a powerful government office, he needed other means than imperial patronage in order to make his political vision effective. What Zhu had more in mind was commercial publishing. As is well known, a considerable number of publications had circulated nationwide since Song times and onward as the expansion of transportation networks created the preconditions for the commercialization of the economy. Through commercial networks and other non-governmental fellowships, Zhu attempted to make his vision more widely available.11 When political actors got to read Zhu’s commentary, as suggested in his notion of ge wu 格物, his vision would reproduce itself in their dispositions. Lu Jiuyan 陸九淵 once criticized commentators of classical texts as “busybodies embellishing the classics to project themselves on the world and seize a reputation” (Tillman 1992: 214). Indeed, there are advantages to fitting into the framework of widely recognized texts. By sharing common textual authorities, political theorists could make their theories more popular. It is a complex and self-conscious political decision to make one’s otherwise less influential position more intelligible and fully influential. As Quentin Skinner often maintained, it is easier to legitimate a new position by putting new wine into old bottles than it is to create new bottles. In addition, a thinker may want to couch one’s potentially dangerous ideas safely within the framework of approved commentarial traditions. According to Leo Strauss, philosophers look for a means to conceal their innovative and thus dangerous teachings because the powerful might want to prosecute them in one way or another. This insight could explain Zhu’s ingenuity in planting his potentially dangerous political message in a widely circulated text. After the late imperial governments co-opted Zhu’s commentaries as the basis of the civil service examinations, ironically, his philosophy was not regarded as “dangerous,” and his commentaries became more widely circulated among those who sought after government office rather than sagehood.

References Bol, Peter K. 1992. “This Culture of Ours”: Intellectual Transitions in T’ang and Sung China. Stanford: Stanford University Press. Chaffee, John W. 1989. “Chu Hsi in Nan-k’ang: Tao-hsu’eh and the Politics of Education.” In Wm. Theodore de Bary and John W. Chaffee, eds., Neo-Confucian Education: The Formative Stage. Berkeley: University of California Press. (An intellectual history of Zhu Xi’s local activities when he served as a prefect of Nankang.)

 Zhu himself was involved in printing business. See Chan (1989: 77–81). On Zhu’s support for commercial activities, see Shu (1992: 421–23), Inoue (2002: 190), and Oki (2004: 3–63).

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Chan, Wing-tsit. 1989. Chu Hsi: New Studies. Honolulu: University of Hawai’i Press. Gardner, Daniel. 1986. Chu Hsi and the Ta-hsueh: Neo-Confucian Reflection on the Confucian Canon. Cambridge/London: Harvard University Asia Center. (A philosophical analysis of Zhu Xi’s commentaries on the Great Learning.) ———. 2003. Zhu Xi’s Reading of the Analects: Canon, Commentary, and the Classical tradition. New York: Columbia University Press. (A philosophical analysis of Zhu Xi’s commentaries on the Analects.) Hartwell, Robert. 1982. “Demographic, political, and social transformations of China, 750–1550.” Harvard Journal of Asiatic Studies 42.2: 365–442. Hattori, Unokichi 服部宇之吉. 1978. Great Series in Classical Chinese 漢文大系. Taipei 臺北: Xinwenfeng Chubangongsi 新文豐出版公司. Huang, Kan 皇侃. 2013. Meaning and Subcommentaries of the Analects 論語義疏. Beijing 北京: Zhonghua Shuju 中華書局. Inoue, Susumu 井上進. 2002. A Cultural History of Chinese Publishing: Books and the Landscape of Knowledge 中国出版文化史:書物と知の風景. Nagoya 名古屋: Nagoya University Press 名古屋大学出版会. Ivanhoe, Philip J.  1990. Ethics in the Confucian Tradition: The Thought of Mencius and Wang Yang-ming. Atlanta: Scholars Press. Kim, Youngmin. 2018. A History of Chinese Political Thought. Cambridge: Polity. (A Far-ranging survey of Chinese political thought throughout the tradition.) Lau, D.C. 1970. Mencius. London: Penguin. ———. 1979. The Analects. London: Penguin. Makeham, John. 2003. Transmitters and Creators: Chinese Commentators and Commentaries on the Analects. Cambridge/London: Harvard University Asia Center. (A diachronic analysis of competing interpretations on the Analects.) Metzger, Thomas. 1986. Escape from Predicament. New  York: Columbia University Press. (A philosophical analysis of Dao Learning’s metaphysical language in its relation to Mao Zedong’s ascendancy) Monod, Paul. 1999. The Power of Kings: Monarchy and Religion in Europe, 1589–1715. New Haven: Yale University Press. Oki, Yasushi 大木康. 2004. A Study of the Publishing Culture in Late Ming Jiangnan 明末江南の 出版文化. Tokyo 東京: Kenbun shuppan 研文出版. Olberding, Amy. 2014. Dao Companion to the Analects. New York: Springer. Plaks, Andrew. 2003. Ta Hsüeh and Chung Yung: The Highest Order of Cultivation and On the Practice of the Mean. London: Penguin Schirokauer, Conrad. 1978. “Chu Hsi’s Political Thought.” Journal of Chinese Philosophy 5.2:127–48. Schirokauer, Conrad, and Robert Hymes. 1993. “Introduction.” In Robert Hymes and Conrad Schirokauer, eds., Ordering the World. Berkeley/Los Angeles: University of California Press. Shu, Jingnan 束景南. 1992. Biography of Zhu Xi 朱子大傳. Fuzhou 福州: Fujian Jiaoyu Chubanshe 福建教育出版社. (A well-documented and detailed biography of Zhu Xi) Slingerland, Edward. 2003. Analects: with Selections from Traditional Commentaries. Indiana: Hackett Publishing Company. Tillman, Hoyt C. 1992. Confucian discourse and Chu Hsi’s ascendancy. Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press. (Contextual analysis of Zhu Xi’s ascendancy as a leader of Dao Learning movement.) Wei, Shi 衛湜. 2011. Collected Discourses on the Mean 中庸集說. Guilin 桂林: Lizhang Chubanshe 漓江出版社. Yu, Yingshi 余英時. 2004a. “Did I Destroy Zhu Xi’s World of Values?—A Reply to Mr. YANG Rubi 我摧毀了朱熹的價值世界嗎?——答楊儒賓先生.” Dangdai 當代 197: 54–73. (Yu’s replay to a scholar who criticizes Yu’s the Historical World of Zhu Xi)

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———. 2004b. The Historical World of Zhu Xi 朱熹的歷史世界. Shanghai 上海: Sanlian Shudian 三聯書店. (Contextual analysis of Zhu Xi’s political thought in the historical context of Southern Song China) Zhu, Xi 朱熹. 1983. Collected Commentaries of the Four Books 四書章句集注. Beijing 北京: Zhonghua Shuju 中華書局. Youngmin Kim is a professor of political science at Seoul National University in Seoul, South Korea. His main area of research is East Asian intellectual history with specializations in political thought. Before Kim joined Seoul National University, he taught East Asian thought and culture at Bryn Mawr College. His publications include Women and Confucianism in Chôson Korea (State University of New York Press, 2011, co-editor and contributor) and A History of Chinese Political Thought (Polity, 2018).  

Chapter 23

Zhu Xi’s Philosophy of Religion Deborah Sommer

1 Introduction Many aspects of Zhu Xi’s thought could be considered “religious,” particularly if one defines “religion” loosely as the collection of beliefs and practices that inform one’s understanding of the cosmos and that give direction to one’s activities and sense of purpose within that cosmos. Very few of Zhu Xi’s most important “philosophical” concepts do not fall also within the purview of the modern Western discipline of religious studies. He wrote extensively, for example, about such cosmological matters as principle (li 理), qi 氣, (a term often understood as “vital energy”; hereafter treated as an English word), Heaven (tian 天), and the Great Ultimate or Supreme Polarity (tai ji 太極)—notions that have been the subject of many philosophical studies. Zhu also discussed ideas more commonly deemed “religious”: ritual (li 禮); ghosts and spirits (gui shen 鬼神); sacrificial offerings (ji si 祭祀); prayer; divination; geomancy; contemplative practices such as quiet sitting (jing zuo 靜坐); and many other self-cultivation practices. As other chapters in this volume deal in greater detail with cosmological issues, this chapter focuses on Zhu Xi’s views on the subjects more commonly deemed religious by the parameters of modern Western disciplinary boundaries. Zhu Xi is often considered a great synthesizer of many strands of thought, but his views on matters such as ghosts and spirits often appear unsystematic and are not entirely consistent. This conceptual inconsistency is entirely typical of conceptualizations of numinous phenomena across cultures, for by their very nature the spirit world defies definition and systematization. Some seeming inconsistency is also due to the fact that many of Zhu Xi’s ideas were recorded at various times by his students across his very long teaching career. D. Sommer (*) Department of Religious Studies, Gettysburg College, Gettysburg, PA, USA e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2020 K.-c. Ng, Y. Huang (eds.), Dao Companion to ZHU Xi’s Philosophy, Dao Companions to Chinese Philosophy 13, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-29175-4_23

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In this chapter, we will first turn to issues of cross-cultural interpretation, for it is important to be aware that the disciplinary categories of “philosophy,” “religion,” and “philosophy of religion” do not readily lend themselves to understanding Song thought on its own terms. Next, we will note important studies of Zhu Xi published in the West. We will then explore Zhu Xi’s interpretations of the classics regarding the spirit world, his conceptualization of ghosts and spirits, and his understandings of the performance of the rites of sacrificial offerings. Finally, we will survey some of his personal religious practices and consider some of the political aspects of ritual praxis.

2 Does Zhu Xi Have a Philosophy of Religion? Could Zhu Xi be said to have a “philosophy of religion,” as that term is used in the modern West? One must ask whether it is meaningful to make distinctions even between “philosophy” and “religion” when exploring premodern Chinese thinkers. It is well known that the modern Chinese terms for “philosophy” (zhe xue 哲學) and “religion” (zong jiao 宗教) entered the Chinese language via Japanese as borrowed terms only in the late nineteenth- and early-twentieth centuries. Before that time, terms such as “learning” (xue 學) were used instead of “philosophy” to refer to someone’s thought. Zhu’s views on spirits and sacrificial offerings might be viewed as philosophical, religious, or both; for that matter, they were also political in nature. His understanding of ghosts and spirits is closely tied to his ontological understanding of the nature of the cosmos—a subject that commonly falls within the purview of philosophy. Zhu’s program for reading texts—which might be considered a largely secular, educational project by modern standards—had, however, strong spiritual dimensions, for the written word provided access to the learning of the sages and allowed the reader to apprehend them directly. He established or renovated a number of private academies, and some if not all contained altars for paying reverence to the sages of antiquity. Zhu Xi’s views on subjects such as the Supreme Polarity or ghosts and spirits have sometimes been deemed “rational” or even “scientific” by scholars who see Zhu as a philosopher, and other scholars have examined those same views and found them “religious,” “nonrational,” or even “occult.” When speaking from the perspective of ontology, Zhu Xi sometimes described spirits as nonpersonalized manifestations of the cosmological notions of principle, qi, and yin and yang. Such a perspective might be considered a “rational” one. Earlier studies of Zhu Xi’s views of ghosts and spirits tend to be in this vein, as Zhu Xi was once perceived in the West largely as a philosopher. Even in more recent times, in Kim Yung Sik’s study of Zhu Xi’s thought, for example, Zhu’s notions of ghosts and spirits are conceived of as a kind of natural philosophy (Kim 2000). Zhu’s understandings of reverence (jing 敬) and sagehood have been studied from philosophical and psychological perspectives (Angle 1998). Chinese thinkers influenced by secularized postMay Fourth trends have also favored a philosophized version of Zhu Xi. But Zhu

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Xi did not see spirits just as manifestations of the cosmological forces, principle and qi; he also understood spirits in a personal, individuated way when he invoked the spirit of Confucius, for example, and presented offerings to him. Zhu Xi was thus a sacrificer and religious practitioner as well as a theorist. In modern times, not just May Fourth scholars but some Western scholars of Chinese thought found religious subjects unpalatable, and they projected their own attitudes onto Song thinkers. Consider for example the following statement from Angus Graham’s introduction to his 1958 study of the Cheng brothers, Cheng Hao 程顥 (1032–1085) and Cheng Yi 程頤 (1033–1107). Graham writes as follows: The Sung philosophers express only a single attitude, that of traditional Confucianism, which sets its face against all inward spiritual exploration, against all enquiries about the world of spirits and the life after death, and insists that the whole duty of man is to act morally as a member of society, observing the responsibilities laid down in the Classics for father and son, ruler and minister, husband and wife, elder and younger, friend and friend. (Graham 1992: xvi)

Graham’s study is tellingly titled Two Chinese Philosophers: The Metaphysics of the Brothers Ch’eng. The notion that Song thinkers “set their face against all inward exploration” and against explorations of the spirit world sounds rather startling today. But similar kinds of apologetics, at least in milder forms, may readily be found in secondary studies of Song thought, especially before the twenty-first century. But simply ignoring religious phenomena does not itself constitute a philosophical perspective. And the Cheng brothers had a great deal to say about the spirit world, Graham’s views notwithstanding. Academic fashions in the study of Zhu Xi’s religious thought have changed over time in both the West and China. In the twenty-first century, as the Western academy has become more interdisciplinary, and as the field of religious studies has internationalized and moved away from a primarily European theological focus toward a cross-cultural comparative focus, our view of Zhu Xi has become more interdisciplinary as well (Jones and He 2015). Even departments of philosophy have become internationalized and are no longer limited to European perspectives. The situation is changing in mainland China as well. As recently as 2003, Fang Xudong 方旭東 in his state-of-the-field report on recent studies of Zhu Xi in mainland China lists no studies of Zhu’s religious beliefs (Fang 2003). But in the past decade, as programs in the academic study of religion have developed in departments of philosophy in China, more studies of Zhu Xi’s views on such matters as ghosts and spirits have appeared as journal articles and doctoral dissertations (Fu 2012, 2015a, b, 2016, 2018; Zhang 2013).

3 Studies Published in the West Zhu Xi’s thought on virtually any subject has received little attention in the West relative to his importance in the history of Chinese thought, and the bibliography of English-language sources relevant to a study of his views on religious matters is not

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large (Sommer 2009). Only a handful of book-length studies exist, and few translations of primary sources are available. Some of the earliest translations of Zhu’s writings on such topics as Heaven, the Supreme Polarity, or ghosts and spirits appeared as early as Chan Wing-tsit’s 1963 Source Book in Chinese Philosophy (Chan 1963). These brief selections were later incorporated, with revisions and additions, into de Bary and Bloom’s Sources of Chinese Tradition (de Bary and Bloom 1999). Chan was also one of the first scholars to take Zhu Xi’s religious praxis seriously (Chan 1987). Daniel Gardner translated sections of Chapter 3 of the Classified Conversations of Master Zhu (Zhuzi yulei 朱子語類), a chapter devoted to Zhu’s explanations of ghosts and spirits (Gardner 1996). The past 20  years have seen the production of several book-length English-­ language studies of Zhu’s thought on religious subjects. Julia Ching’s The Religious Thought of Chu Hsi (Ching 2000), which is written from the perspective of comparative religious studies, examines Zhu’s concepts of the Supreme Polarity, ghosts and spirits, ritual, and self-cultivation practices. Joseph Adler has translated Zhu Xi’s commentaries on the Book of Change (Adler 2017) and examined his interest in Zhou Dunyi (Adler 2014). Patricia Ebrey has translated Master Zhu’s Family Rituals (Zhuzi jiali 朱子家禮), Zhu’s compilation of guidelines for clan rituals such as weddings, mortuary rituals, and sacrificial offerings (Ebrey 1991). Gardner’s Learning to be a Sage explores the spiritual goals of Zhu’s reading practices (Gardner 1990). Most studies of Zhu’s thought on religious subjects, however, are article- or chapter-length works. Ren Jiyu provided one of the earliest overviews of Zhu’s views on religious matters (Ren 1986). Other articles explore specific topics such as Zhu Xi’s personal practices or sense of spirituality (Adler 2008; Ching 1986, 2000; de Bary 2004); his views on quiet sitting (Chan 1989; Taylor 1997); his studies of ritual (Kao 1986); and his attitudes toward geomancy (Ebrey 1997).

4 Inspired by the Classics What was the source of Zhu Xi’s views of religious subjects? In large part, they were grounded upon his understandings of ancient texts and their later commentaries. The complexity of his views on these matters can be attributed in part to the diversity of ideas found in the large corpus of classical texts that inspired him: the Book of Odes (Shijing 詩經), Book of Documents (Shangshu 尚書), Analects (Lunyu 論語), Book of Rites (Li ji 禮記), the Rites of Zhou (Zhou li 周禮), Ceremony and Ritual (Yi li 儀禮), Master Zuo’s Commentary (Zuo zhuan 左傳), and so on. These texts were compiled in different ages and in different cultural contexts, and each was itself a composite work compiled over a long period of time. Older sections of the Book of Documents date to perhaps 800 BCE; the Analects, to the fifth or sixth centuries BCE, and the Book of Rites, to several centuries after that. Within these works one may find a wide range of views about cosmology, numinous beings, and the norms that inform relationships between humans and the spirit world. Zhu was

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inspired not only by classical texts but also by their later commentaries; closer to his own time, he also was influenced by the thought of Song thinkers such as the Cheng brothers, although his views on spirits frequently differed from theirs. The ancient classics, Zhu Xi believed, contained principles and precedents that could be interpreted and applied to contemporary situations. The principles that obtained during the time of the sages still obtained in his own time, although particulars of praxis needed to be reinterpreted to suit the needs of contemporary society. Classical texts were authoritative because they had been created by sages who, by virtue of their wisdom, directly understood the principles of the cosmos. Through careful study and inquiry, readers could gain access to the sages’ visions of cosmic order and apply their principles to their own day. Just as modern lawmakers appeal to an array of varied and even conflicting historical legal precedents to argue cases, so Zhu Xi and other thinkers found precedents in one or more of the classics when they needed guidance on religious matters. Different interpretations of correct ritual theory and praxis were thus possible if not inevitable. Kao Ming 高明, in his examination of Zhu Xi’s works on ritual—commentaries on the Book of Rites, Rites of Zhou, and Ceremony and Ritual, as well as the compilation of his own Master Zhu’s Family Rituals—has noted that Zhu Xi did not hesitate to reorganize and re-edit classical texts for his own purposes (Kao 1986). Zhu Xi added his own ontological framework to the legacy of ritual lore found in the classics: he interpreted numinous phenomena through an ontological lens of principle (li 理) and qi 氣, especially qi. Principle and qi of course did not significantly inform ontological understandings of the cosmos in classical times. The term li, or principle, appeared rarely in ancient texts and was understood generally as a patterning or organizing principle that existed naturally within things; gridlike patterns (also li) could moreover be created by humans on the earth’s surface by constructing intersecting channels and boundaries when placing land under cultivation. Similarly, the term qi rarely appeared in most pre-Han texts. Qi was not understood consistently or systematically in pre-Han times; it was variously understood as a vital breath or energy that suffused human beings, as a meteorological power found in the environment, and as the essential energy that comes from food. There were moreover multiple kinds of qi, or at least multiple valences of qi. But Zhu Xi understood the term in a much larger sense, and qi was for him a cosmological principle. Numinous phenomena such as ghosts and spirits could be understood in terms of the interaction of principle, qi, and the human heart-mind.

5 Zhu Xi on Ghosts and Spirits One subject that has garnered much attention in recent scholarship is Zhu’s understanding of the concept of gui shen, a term that literally means “ghosts and spirits.” In many of Zhu’s writings, gui and shen are frequently understood as abstract cosmological principles, although he also understood spirits in an individuated way and presented offerings to the spirits of specific historical figures. Studies of Zhu Xi’s

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views of ghosts and spirits tend to focus either on the ontological aspect of ghosts and spirits or on studies of his prayers to individual spirits, such as the spirit of Confucius, but they rarely encompass both. Gardner’s translations from the Classified Conversations on ghosts and spirits have already been noted above, and he has also examined this subject further in Gardner 1995. Kim Yung Sik examines the concept of gui shen from the perspective of “natural philosophy,” the “occult,” and “the scientific” (Kim 2000, 2015), although it could be argued that those are European categories that are not readily applicable to Chinese thought. Several works explore Zhu’s offerings to specific spirits (Sommer 1995; Tillman 2004). Looking toward Chinese-language sources, other studies may be found in such works as Zhang Qingjiang’s 張清江 doctoral dissertation on Zhu Xi’s prayers to Confucius and Fu Xihong’s 傅錫洪 extensive work on Zhu’s notions of ghosts and spirits (Zhang 2013; Fu 2012, 2015a, b, 2016, 2018). Thomas Wilson places Zhu Xi’s views on spirits and souls within a larger historical discussion that begins with pre-Qin views on that subject (Wilson 2014). What did the ancient classics say about ghosts and spirits? The terms gui and shen had been used since antiquity, and they appeared in such early works as the Book of Odes, the Analects, and especially the Book of Rites. The Book of Rites moreover explained how human beings should interact ritually with ghosts and spirits. Zhu Xi was heavily influenced by the legacy of this text, and he is well known for elevating two chapters of the Book of Rites—“The Great Learning” (Da Xue 大學) and the “Centrality and Equilibrium” (Zhong Yong 中庸, also known as the “Doctrine of the Mean”)—to canonical status as independent texts in their own right. Gui and shen were not described in any systematic or consistent way in early texts, and many different understandings of numinous phenomena existed in ancient times. Gui was sometimes understood to be what remains of one’s personal identity after the dissolution of the physical body at death. It tended to go downward after death, into the ground. At one level, gui were thus personalized and individualized. In modern popular culture, gui as ghosts are often understood as frightening and sometimes dangerous specters. That was not necessarily the case in pre-Han texts, however, where violent specters were more commonly referred to by the term li 厲, or wraith, which was the posthumous presence of someone who had experienced a violent or untimely demise and was not properly cared for after death. Shen, on the other hand, was a far more complicated phenomena than gui even in ancient times. Shen might be translated as “spirit,” “spiritual,” “numinous,” or even “divine.” It was a quality of things that abided within them and could not usually be seen with the eyes. Apprehending spirit was not a matter facilitated by the senses; one could apprehend it, though, by occluding one’s senses during the darkened, soundless conditions of presacrificial vigils (zhai 齋). Shen, or spirit, was also an inherent ability to transform (hua 化), both within and without, in a positive way. Almost any celestial or terrestrial phenomenon that benefitted human beings—sun, moon, rain, mountains, rivers, and so on—could be imbued with shen and were referred to as shen. Human beings, too, were inherently endowed with spirit, but they needed to apply effort to develop it. After death, a human being’s spirit rose upward and could travel anywhere.

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By Zhu Xi’s own time, the concepts of ghost and spirit had of course become more complicated in the hundreds of years since the classics were compiled. Many different spiritual traditions had moreover developed within China in the meantime, and new religious ideas had entered China from India and Central Asia. Zhu Xi’s views on ghosts and spirits were grounded in the Chinese classics, but to them Zhu added his own cosmological understandings of principle (li) and qi. His views on ghosts and spirits were considered so important by the compilers of his Classified Conversations (Zhuzi yulei 朱子語類) that the chapter “Ghosts and Spirits” (Gui shen 鬼神) was placed toward the front of that enormous work, where they constitute chapter three. His views on the spirit world were thus considered second in importance only to the topics covered in chapters one and two: principle and qi, the Supreme Polarity, and Heaven and Earth. Chapters immediately following “Ghosts and Spirits” turned to the human realm and to issues of human nature and moral values. In the Classified Conversations, then, Zhu Xi’s discussions about ghosts and spirits were given a place of primary importance and were categorized with the fundamental ontological principles and that described the fabric of the cosmos. The subject was not tucked into some obscure later chapter devoted to, say, minor rituals or tales of the uncanny. Although Zhu Xi wrote extensively on the subject of the spirit world, his views are sometimes difficult to ascertain. Zhu himself regularly cautioned that it was often difficult to understand such matters at all. When speaking from a theoretical perspective about the nature of numinous phenomena such as ghosts and spirits, he stated that they did indeed exist, but he elsewhere also stated that he was hesitant to make firm pronouncements about them at all. He understood numinous phenomena at several different levels, and he found them to be complex and difficult to explain. They were subtle to the point of being unfathomable—just as ancient texts had stated. In his discussion of gui and shen at the beginning of chapter three of the Classified Conversations, Zhu Xi turns often to the Analects as an authoritative source about interactions with the spirit world. It might be argued that the Analects raises more questions about this subject than it answers, for Confucius’ statements about interacting with ghosts and spirits are often ambiguous, open-ended non-answers. Zhu Xi often pointed to the well-known passage in Analects 11.12, where Confucius’ disciple Zilu 子路, who was known for having a brusque and impulsive personality, asked how one should serve ghosts and spirits. Confucius “answered” Zilu’s question with yet another question: “When one is not yet able to serve human beings, how can one serve ghosts?” Confucius valued priorities: one must become versed in basic social skills before engaging with the unseen realm. Zhu Xi’s responses to his pupils’ questions about the spirit world also sometimes asked the questioner to look within themselves to solve their inquiries. When asked by someone whether ghosts and spirits exist or not (you wu 有無), Zhu responded that it was necessary first to understand the subtle nuances of principle (li 理); then the question would resolve of itself (Zhu 1986: 33). Understanding the subtle nuances of principle was of course a lifelong project that involved daily engagement; understanding gui and shen must be resolved through one’s own personal efforts.

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Zhu Xi also frequently cited Confucius’ well-known but ambiguous statement about revering spirits. When his follower Fan Chi 樊遲 asked him what understanding (zhi 知) was, Confucius replied that one should “be reverent toward ghosts and spirits and maintain a distance from them: that can be called understanding” (Analects 6.22). In modern Western culture, distance, in the context of relationships, is often interpreted as coldness or lack of concern. But in premodern Chinese texts, maintaining a proper distance between oneself and someone else or something else was often a sign of respect, not coldness; casual intimacy and excessive closeness, on the other hand, could be interpreted as signs of disrespect. In any event, balancing reverence and distance in an appropriate way no doubt required attention to nuance and situation. Confucius’ response to Fan Chi’s question about understanding offered food for thought, but it did not provide an “answer.” Perhaps this passage’s appeal for Zhu Xi lay precisely in its subtlety and room for interpretation. It is likely that Confucius understood ghosts and spirits as individualized entities, and Zhu Xi did too, in certain instances, but for him gui and shen were primarily processes of cosmic movement. For Zhu, shen 神, or spirit, was analogous to the graphically and phonically similar character shen 伸, which means “expand.” Expansion was a natural, spontaneous process that occurred, for example, when meteorological phenomena such as wind, rain, thunder, or lightning started to occur. Gui, or ghost, on the other hand, was analogous to qu 屈, “contract.” Contraction occurred, for example, when thunder and lightning ceased. Rain, wind, frost, thunder, the sun, moon, and day and night were all the visible traces of gui and shen. The operations of gui and shen lay within the parameters of the fluctuations of yin and yang (Zhu 1986: 34). Zhu Xi’s cosmological understandings of gui and shen are processes that invite comparison with processes, qualities, and conditions associated with the hexagrams of the Book of Change (Yijing 易經). They are dyadic concepts that in many ways parallel such notions as yin and yang. In fact, Kim Yung Sik has created a list of nearly 60 concepts that Zhu Xi associated at various times with gui and shen: gui was associated with the concepts of yin, contraction, darkness, tranquility, death, withering, and winter; shen, with yang, expansion, light, activity, life, growth, and summer (Kim 2000: 102). Following Cheng Yi, Zhu moreover believed that guishen are the traces of creative transformation (zao hua zhi ji 造化之迹), which appear naturally and spontaneously. In his Bequeathed Writings (Yi shu 遺書), Cheng Yi, when asked about the features of ghosts and spirits that were described in a commentary on the Book of Change, replied, “When the Change talks of ghosts and spirits, these are creative transformations” (Cheng and Cheng 1992: [22A] 17b). Although much has been said of a purported “Cheng–Zhu school of Neo-Confucianism,” the Cheng brothers of course never saw themselves foreshadowing Zhu Xi, who was only about 7 years old when Cheng Yi passed away. Even though Zhu Xi was influenced in part by the Cheng brothers’ ideas, there are significant differences, or at least differences of emphasis, in their views of the spirit world. Zhu Xi’s understandings of gui and shen were largely grounded in his understanding of qi, but for the Chengs, the foundation of ritual and sacrificial offerings lay within human beings themselves, in the heavenly nature (tian xing 天性) and in

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the heart-mind (xin 心). The efficaciousness of rites was facilitated by moral qualities such as sincerity (cheng 誠), filiality (xiao 孝), and rightness (yi 義). When asked whether sacrificial offerings were originally formulated by sages and then only later taught to humankind, Cheng Yi replied, “No. Sacrifice is based on the heavenly nature. [According to the Book of Rites], the otter, wolf, and eagle all sacrifice: this is heavenly nature. How could human beings not measure up to birds?” (Cheng and Cheng 1992: [22A] 14a–b). He frequently used examples of (perceived) animal behavior to make his points about human nature. Elsewhere, Cheng Yi said that “things come through heavenly principle. Bees and ants protect their sovereigns, and the otter and wolf understand sacrifice; ritual likewise comes from the human condition (ren qing 人情), that is all” (Cheng and Cheng 1992: [17] 11a). For the Chengs, sacrifice was also based on cosmic processes, although qi did not play a significant role. For Cheng Yi, the cosmic principles for sacrificial offerings were to be found in principle (li 理) and in terms of the trigrams huan 渙, dispersal or dissolution, and cui 萃, coalescence or congregation, from the Book of Change. Sacrificial offerings supported the principle of congregation, brought people’s minds together, and staved off dissolution. Consanguinity of flesh and bone (gu rou 骨肉) meant that members of one clan were of the same class or kind (lei 類). The power of sincerity promoted familial solidarity and allowed descendants to commune (tong 通) with their ancestors when sacrificing (Cheng and Cheng 1992: [1]10b–11a). Qi, then, was not a significant part of the Chengs’ views of the spirit world or sacrificial offerings. Zhu Xi admired the Cheng’s view that ghosts and spirits were the traces of creative transformation, but he tended to emphasize the importance of qi. For Zhu Xi, even seemingly uncanny phenomena could be explained in those terms. People see flashes of lightning and do not think them strange, Zhu believed, yet when they hear wailing ghosts or see ghost fires they believe they have witnessed something strange. Yet these phenomena, too, are just traces of creative transformation, and they are unusual by virtue of their rarity, not by virtue of their nature. Zhu Xi did not deny that seemingly uncanny phenomena existed. People had personally seen and heard unusual things, and their direct experience of such phenomena was authoritative. Moreover, anomalies were recorded in ancient texts, so there must be some principle for them (Zhu 1986: 34–37). Zhu discounted the power of uncanny phenomena to harm human beings, but he did not discount their existence. If some seemingly anomalous thing happened, such as the appearance of some uncanny specter, then there was most likely a principle (li) for it. Qi moreover could be coarse or murky instead of clear, and that coarseness might cause unusual phenomena to manifest. Moving from the cosmic to the human level, Zhu understood gui as the highest manifestation of the po 魄 soul, which was itself comprised of vital essence, or jing 精. The highest manifestation of shen was the hun 魂 soul, which was qi. Vital essence and qi coalesced to form things (wu 物, and humans were also “things” in that sense), and all things were possessed of gui and shen. Explaining in another passage how an individual human being could interact with the larger cosmos, Zhu stated that both gui and shen were qi, which pervaded Heaven and Earth and could

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expand and contract as it moved to and fro. The qi of human beings is in contact with the qi of Heaven, and as the human heart-mind (xin 心) moves (dong 動)—that is, becomes active—it encounters more qi and responds to it. This is how matters such as divination work: when people speak of matters that are within their heart-­ minds, there will be responses for them that manifest from the divination process. When asked whether gui and shen were simply qi, Zhu responded, albeit rather cryptically, that they were like a “spirit-ethereality” (shen ling 神靈) within qi (Zhu 1986: 34). What he means by that expression is not clear.

6 Zhu Xi on Sacrificial Offerings For Zhu Xi, it was qi that facilitated the conduct of sacrificial offerings that were presented to ancestors and to other numinous presences. Ancient ritual texts described a wide variety of sacrificial offerings (ji si 祭祀), or votive offerings, that humans were obligated to present to a vast array of spiritual powers—celestial, terrestrial, human, and other—but qi was not at all important in their performance, at least in antiquity. Within ancient texts such as the Book of Documents, Book of Odes, and Book of Rites one can discern the basic principles of sacrificial offerings as they were understood in pre-Han times. Human beings owed debts of gratitude to many kinds of numinous powers that supported human existence. Some numinous powers were aspects of the natural world and some were once living human beings: mountains and rivers produced rain for crops; the sun and moon provided light; the land produced food; culture heroes from the past provided the norms of civilized life; one’s ancestors provided one’s own life. The list of numinous phenomena is a very long one. At regularized intervals, human beings were obligated to repay the boons one had received from all these phenomena, usually in the form of food offerings. Numinous presences, particularly the spirits of ancestors and other human beings, were not usually visible, and they resided in a vast hidden realm on high. Their presence could be invoked when food offerings were set out for them in a sacred space. Sacrificers could emotionally experience the presence of the spirits they invoked, although they could not see them. After the spirits feasted, they were ushered off whence they had come. Classical texts outlined general norms to be followed when performing sacrifices, but much was left unsaid, and they provided few if any ontological or cosmological explanations of the process. Zhu Xi tried to provide those kinds of explanations, and he tried to explain the mechanics of sacrifice to spirits in terms of qi. According to Zhu Xi, initially, a human being comes into existence when qi coalesces; at death, qi disperses (san 散) and the person becomes gui, or ghostly. But that dispersal takes an indeterminate period of time, depending upon that person’s lifestyle and manner of death. The qi of people who died violent deaths tended to linger longer. No one knew how long an ancestor’s qi might linger. It was through a connection of qi that descendants could communicate with their ancestors when sacrificing. When a descendant presented votive offerings to their forbears, their qi resonated with the qi of their

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ancestors, for they were of the same class and kind (lei 類). The ancestors’ vital essence, spirit, and hun and po might have become dispersed, but the essence, spirit, and hun and po of the descendant still share something with those of the ancestor. Moral virtues constituted an important catalyst for making the connection between sacrificer and recipient: by completely expressing their sincerity (cheng 誠) and reverence (jing 敬) when making offerings, descendants could reach out to the hun and po souls of the ancestors. Zhu Xi acknowledges that this process was difficult to explain, for it seemed that ancestors appeared to no longer exist when their physical components dispersed after death, but ghost and spirit did actually exist. Zhu Xi stated that provided that the sacrificer was sincere and reverent, their ancestors could be invoked to draw nigh (gan ge 感格) during offerings. Connections between the qi of descendants and ancestors were further sustained because they were of the same bloodline (xue mai 血脈). Even after their material identities disperse, the common bloodline allows for the qi to find a focal point, or zhu 主, to host it (Zhu 1986: 46–47). The importance of zhu as places where numinous phenomena may become manifest had been outlined in ancient ritual texts. The term zhu is difficult to translate. A zhu is a focus or a focal point where a hierophany of an invisible, numinous phenomenon is hosted by a visible object or sacred space. Over the centuries, focal points were indicated by such things as stone or wooden tablets, images, or even human beings. In post-classical times, zhu could mean “spirit tablet.” Zhu is also used in a verbal sense meaning “to host” or “to manage.” Someone who serves as a host bears heavy responsibilities toward their “guests” but is also granted authority concomitant to that responsibility. Not all sacrificial offerings were directed at ancestors. Since ancient times, public officials were responsible for presenting offerings of thanksgiving to numinous phenomena that fell under their jurisdiction: mountains and rivers, meteorological phenomena, altars of the land and grain (she ji 社稷), and so on. But no bloodline connected a local official with a mountain range, so what principles informed rites to non-kin recipients? For Zhu Xi, it was the powers of the focal point or zhu that facilitated such rites. When one discussed such matters from the perspective of one body (shen 身), he said, one’s qi was at once the qi of one’s ancestors. Discussing such matters from the perspective of Heaven and Earth, however, there is only one qi. When officials of various ranks made offerings to spiritual powers within their domains, the connection worked because the officials were the hosts, or focal points, for the qi of those phenomena to congregate. Because there is ultimately just one qi, spirits can be invoked to respond and to draw nigh (Zhu 1986: 47). Commonalities of blood and qi were not the only factors supporting connections between sacrificer and recipient. Zhu Xi emphasized the importance of being sincere in one’s heart-mind when performing sacrifices, for the principle (li 理) of guishen was actually the principle of one’s own mind. Someone once asked him whether performing offerings—which sometimes involved expensive gifts of animal victims and alcohol—was not primarily about expressing the sincerity in one’s own heart-mind. Was something really invoked? Just as Confucius responded to Fan Chi’s question about understanding with another question, so Zhu responded

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to this questioner with another question: What was it, then, Zhu asked, that manifested from on high during offerings and generated feelings of reverence and awe in the ritual participants? By this statement Zhu implies that something really does manifest—yet he quickly adds that it would be too far-fetched to say that this something arrives in a cloud chariot (Zhu 1986: 50–51). As Confucius had said in Analects 3.12, Zhu Xi made offerings to spirits like the spirits were really present.

7 Zhu Xi’s Religious Practices How significant were religious practices to Zhu Xi? Not especially important, according to many Western studies of Zhu Xi completed before the twenty-first century. Very important indeed, according to the people closest to him in his own time. Zhu Xi’s posthumous biographical elegy, or xing zhuang 行狀, which was composed by his student and son-in-law Huang Gan 黃幹 (1152–1221), describes Zhu’s daily routine in his later years, and it is very revealing of his spirituality. Huang Gan writes that his father-in-law got up at dawn and “bowed at the family temple and before the Premier Sage” before beginning his studies for the day (author’s translation of text as quoted in Chan 2007: 3). Zhu started every morning, then, by personally revering his ancestors and by revering the “Premier Sage” (xian sheng 先聖), Confucius. Huang Gan also tells us that Zhu Xi was deeply concerned about the proper performance of all manner of sacrificial offerings (ji si 祭 祀). When Zhu performed offerings, Huang Gan continues, “no matter whether the occasion was major or minor, he was always sincere and reverent. If he was amiss in ceremonies even in the least, he would be unhappy the whole day. If, having sacrificed, no ritual had been violated, he would be overflowingly glad” (translation following Chan 1989: 4, with revisions). Zhu Xi was deeply emotionally engaged, then, with ritual services, and he began his day by interacting personally with the spirit world. So Zhu Xi did not just theorize about the spirit world and sacrificial offerings; he was also a religious practitioner, as Huang Gan noted in his biography of his father-in-law. Zhu Xi’s own participation in various kinds of ritual offerings is bountifully documented in his writings. Chapter 86 of Master Zhu’s Complete Works (Zhuzi Daquan 朱子大全), for example, contains dozens of prayer invocations (zhu wen 祝文) to many numinous phenomena. Zhu Xi presented sacrificial reports (gao 告), for example, to the spirit of Confucius on multiple occasions such as the renovation of the White Deer Hollow Academy in 1180. The academy had fallen into disrepair and had become overgrown with weeds, but Zhu undertook to restore it. At the beginning of the academic session, accompanied by the sound of drums, Zhu Xi personally led colleagues, teachers, and pupils in a ritual offering to Confucius, to Confucius’ follower Yan Hui, and to Mencius. They were given relatively simple yet appropriate offering of vegetables and herbs for their delectation (xiang 饗) (Zhu 1930: [86] 3b–4a).

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Studying at Zhu’s Xi’s academies such as the White Deer Hollow Academy had its religious components, for altars to figures such as Confucius were installed in them, and Zhu and his pupils reported their activities in the human world to them. Looking at Zhu Xi’s designs for altars and ritual services, one can see how he dealt with problems that arose when no classical precedents could be found for problems in contemporary ritual praxis. One such issue was the question of whether to use figural images when conducting sacrificial offerings; the classics offered no clear precedents on the matter. Zhu himself was ambivalent about using images, and he disavowed the practice in some contexts and allowed it in others. He was generally inspired by classical ritual texts, but sometimes contemporary social customs had changed significantly since ancient times. In ancient times, food offerings were placed on mats on the ground, but in Zhu’s own time, people placed images that represented spirits high up on altars. This might create unseemly problems for spirits when they came to partake of the offerings, for they would be obliged to come down off their high perches and grovel around on the ground to enjoy the offerings. Zhu seems to presume here that the somatic identity of the recipients of the offerings was embodied in their imaged forms. Zhu considered this problem in his “Discussion on Kneeling and Sitting When Worshipping” (Gui zuo bai shuo 跪坐拜說). In this document, one can see how Zhu appealed to divers earlier ritual discourses to support his views (Zhu 1930: [68] 1a–2a). Following the Tang dynasty Rites of the Kaiyuan Era (Kai yuan li 開元禮), Zhu asserted that it was more appropriate to use tablets than images when making offerings. Perhaps Zhu believed the material identity of the recipient was less intimately associated with a tablet than a figural sculpture or painting. Zhu was inspired not only by Tang ritual usages but also by a more unusual source: the literary figure Su Shi 蘇軾 (1036–1101), who had written an essay titled “In Temples, use Tablets; in Sacrificing, use Personators” (Miao yu you zhu ji yu you shi 廟欲有 主祭欲有尸). Zhu quoted from Su Shi’s observation that if food offerings were placed on the ground as they were in ancient times, spirits who sat way up on the altar would be obliged to “creep and crawl” (fu fu pu fu 俯伏匍匐) to get them (Su 1986: [1] 203; Zhu 1930: [68] 1a–2a). Zhu, like Su, generally advocated for the use of tablets when sacrificing. Elsewhere, however, he did not mind images: he installed an image of Fu Xi 伏羲, a figure he associated with creating the Book of Change, in his Wu Yi Study (Wu Yi Jing she 武夷精舍) (Chan 1987: 163–98; Zhu 1930: [6] 19b; Sommer 2003). Zhu composed sacrificial reports for all manner of occasions: village drinking ceremonies, the construction of temples, activities at the White Deer Hollow Academy, the completion of the carving of woodblocks for a new edition of the Four Books, and so on. He prayed for rain on multiple occasions and made prayers of thanks when he was successful; he prayed for clear weather and good harvests; he prayed to the altars of the land and grain and to the local earth deities (tu di 土 地); he prayed that drought may be alleviated (Zhu 1930: 86; see also Chan 1987). Similarly, dozens of sacrificial prayers (ji wen 祭文), which were intended for specific people, are included in chapter 87 of the Complete Works, and many others are scattered throughout his collected writings.

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One of Zhu Xi’s practices was quiet sitting, and he had his own views on this practice that differed from Daoist and Buddhist practices. Much of his career was spent holding sinecures in Daoist temples, and he had Daoists as neighbors in the Wu Yi Mountains where he established several studios along the stream that ran through the cliffs, and he also had Buddhist masters as colleagues. But he sought to distinguish his own practices from some aspects of those traditions culturally. Different forms of meditative and contemplative practices, many of them informed by Buddhist, Daoist, and popular religious customs, flourished in Zhu Xi’s day. In terms of his own personal practice, Zhu Xi advocated quiet sitting (jing zuo 靜坐), a practice that was primarily intended to support learning through the reading of texts. Whereas Buddhists sought enlightenment, and Daoists valued vacuity (xu 虛) and tranquility (jing 靜), Zhu Xi valued reverence, or reverent seriousness (jing 敬). Reverence was not quietude but instead involved attentiveness in the midst of activity. Overemphasizing quiet-sitting, Zhu Xi believed, might prove to be an enervating distraction from actively pursuing the Way in daily life. Zhu Xi’s views on quiet-sitting were explored in the late 1980s by Wing-tsit  Chan and later by scholars such as Rodney Taylor (Chan 1987, 1989; Taylor 1997). They point out that Zhu Xi’s saying that one should devote a half-day to quiet-sitting and half-day to reading was overused by later thinkers, and that Zhu Xi himself used the expression sparingly. Zhu Xi proposed no particular method for quiet sitting, but in his “Discussion on Kneeling and Sitting When Worshipping” noted above, he did advocate particular kinds of sitting and kneeling postures when worshipping before tablets or images. When sitting, one should follow what he believed to be Chinese practices from antiquity, when people knelt on their knees; they did not sit cross-­ legged in the foreign manner (Zhu 1930 [68] 1a–2a). Regarding burial practices, Zhu Xi was open to the practice of geomancy, or the practice of aligning graves and other structures with the lay of the land so that human beings may prosper within their physical environment. Ebrey sites Zhu’s views on geomancy within the context of those of other Song thinkers, and she finds Zhu Xi to have been more favorable toward geomantic practices than some earlier Song thinkers such as Sima Guang 司馬光 (1019–1086) (Ebrey 1997). Zhu buried his own relatives according to geomantic principles and occasionally advised the imperial family to consult experts on the matter. Not surprisingly, Zhu Xi understood geomancy in terms of qi; he believed that areas where the earth’s qi was weak were not suitable places for descendants to bury their ancestors (Ebrey 1997). Zhu’s views on geomancy may be contrasted with those of Cheng Yi, who believed that using geomancy to site ancestral graves was devoid of either rightness or principle (Cheng and Cheng 1992: [22A] 21b). Although Zhu himself deferred to experts in geomancy, he came to be revered as a master of the art in later popular culture. In modern Fujian province, one may purchase metal feng shui measuring tapes called Wengong chi (文公尺), or “Master Wen’s measurers,” after Zhu Xi’s posthumous name Master Wengong.

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8 When the Spiritual Becomes Political Maintaining respectful relations with the spirit world was not just a religious matter: it was of great political importance for maintaining the order and prosperity of the state. Just as it is difficult to distinguish between the “religious” and “philosophical” in Zhu’s work, so it is difficult to distinguish either of those approaches from the social and political. In Zhu Xi’s world, there were not too many religious issues that were not at once political and social ones: rulers, for example, were believed to have received a mandate from Heaven to manage the state’s agricultural altars, spirits, and human beings. The order and prosperity of the state were believed to rely in no small part on the proper performance of rites of sacrificial offerings. Above, Heaven offered rulers a mandate to rule, but below, rulers were bound by ethical obligations to Heaven, to the spirit world, and to human beings. Obligations were fulfilled through the ritual system of sacrificial offerings whereby human beings recompensed numinous aspects of the cosmos—Heaven and spirits of many kinds—with votive gifts of material goods, food, and demonstrations of reverence. This intersection of the political, the social, and the religious (and even the psychological, if one understands the heart-mind as a psychological phenomenon) may be seen in documents such as section five of Zhu’s “Jiyou Draft Memorial” (Jiyou nishang fengshi 己酉擬上封事; dated by Chan Wing-tsit to 1189). The memorial is an admonition to rulers to rectify their heart-minds and to establish correct ritual relationships between human beings and the spirit world so that the realm may prosper. Ghosts and spirits resided in a hidden realm, and humans inhabited a perceptible world of ritual and music, but one principle threaded through them and connected them (yi li guan tong 一理貫通). Zhu emphasized the importance of maintaining proper, canonical relationships with spirits. Relationships should be guided by the norms recorded in such texts as the Book of Documents, the Book of Rites, and the Analects of Confucius. If someone tried to perform a noncanonical offering, then spirits would not come to partake of it. Such a rite would constitute a wanton sacrifice (yin si 淫祀), which as both the Analects 2.24 and Book of Rites (“Qu li” 曲禮 chapter) noted, brought no blessings. Ancient ritual formulations were not arbitrarily constructed by human beings; their principles (li 理) were natural ones (zi ran 自然). Zhu’s memorial walks that fine line between revering spirits but not getting overly involved with them. Zhu Xi notes that virtuous rulers who provide well for their people do not have to rely on prayers for blessings, and neither do they need to rely on exorcisms to dispel calamities. At first glance, this statement might seem to evince a secular, nonreligious attitude, but it does not; it is instead primarily an admonition to develop virtue. For in the next few sentences, Zhu implies that ghosts—bad ones at that—are real. Zhu warns that if rulers do not adhere to moral principles, they will anger the spirits and be unable to ward off bad ghosts (e gui 惡 鬼). If the ruler’s mind does not have focus (zhu 主) and becomes influenced by some hazy phenomenon, then practitioners of sinister ways might take advantage of the situation and create chaos. It was imperative that the ruler clearly understood the

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principles of human nature so that his mind would be free of confusion (Zhu 1930: [12] 5a–b; Sommer 1995). Zhu’s views on the spirit world, then, have their political applications: it is imperative that the ruler have a clear mind and solid virtue lest mountebanks mislead him and create social problems.

9 Conclusion: A Ritual Legacy Finally, we can turn to the later legacy of Zhu Xi’s writings on ritual and sacrificial offerings. By the mid Ming era, Zhu Xi’s emphasis on the importance of qi for the conduct of sacrificial offerings found less favor than the Chengs’ theory that sacrifice was inherent to human nature and the mind. Ming compilations on sacrificial offerings often used the Chengs’ discussion of the Book of Change’s trigrams huan 渙 (dispersal) and cui 萃 (coalescence) as a framework for their own discussions of sacrifice (Sommer 1993, 2003). Zhu’s views on the use of images, however, were incorporated into Ming iconoclastic reforms that saw the removal of sculpted forms from imperial shrines to Confucius in the mid Ming. Ebrey has documented the widespread importance of Zhu Xi’s Family Rituals for later generations (Ebrey 1991). Zhu’s elevation of two chapters of the Book of Rites—the “Great Learning” and the “Centrality and Equilibrium”—to canonical status is too well known to be explored here, yet it is worth noting again that those two works were once part of a compilation of ritual texts. Zhu Xi’s cosmological principles of gui and shen have long since been replaced in modern times with more scientifically based cosmologies, but sacrificial offerings to the spirit of Zhu Xi himself are alive and well and are performed to this day. Every year, Zhu’s descendants from all over Asia return annually to his grave in northern Fujian province to present him with sacrificial offerings and pay their respects to their ancestor. A continuity of qi has thus continued for over 800 years.

References Adler, Joseph A. 2008. “Zhu Xi’s Spiritual Practice as the Basis of his Central Philosophical Concepts.” Dao: A Journal of Comparative Philosophy 7.1: 57–79. (Essay that explores spiritual praxis rather than the more commonly studied philosophical concepts.) ———. 2014. Reconstructing the Confucian Dao: Zhu Xi’s Appropriation of Zhou Dunyi. Albany: State University of New York Press. (One of the few Western studies of the influence of Zhou Dunyi’s thought on Zhu Xi.) ———. 2017. Introduction to the Study of the Classic of Change (I-hsueh ch’i-meng): Chu Hsi. Academia.edu corrected version. Originally published in 2002 by New York: Global Scholarly Publications. (Annotated, bilingual translation of an important work on divination by Zhu Xi.) Angle, Stephen C. 1998. “The Possibility of Sagehood: Reverence and Ethical Perfection in Zhu Xi’s Thought.” Journal of Chinese Philosophy 25.3: 281–303.

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Chan, Wing-tsit. 1963. A Source Book in Chinese Philosophy. Princeton: Princeton University Press. (Early collection of English translations of selections from the writings of important Chinese thinkers.) ———. 1987. Chu Hsi: Life and Thought. Hong Kong: The Chinese University Press. (Chapter 5 examines Zhu Xi’s personal religious practices; Chapter 6 examines religious practices performed in his academies.) ———. 1989. “Chu Hsi and Quiet-sitting.” In Chu Hsi: New Studies, 255–270. Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press. (Early study of Zhu Xi’s beliefs and practices regarding the notion of quiet sitting.) Chan, Wing-tsit 陳榮捷. 2007. Zhu Xi: New Studies 朱子新探索. Shanghai 上海: Xuesheng shuju 學生書局. Cheng, Hao 程顥, and Cheng Yi 程頤. 1992. Bequeathed Writings of the Two Chengs; Additional Writings of the Two Chengs 二程遺書; 二程外書. Shanghai 上海: Shanghai guji chubanshe 上海古籍出版社. (Compilation, in Chinese, of selected writings of the brothers Cheng Hao [1032–1085] and Cheng Yi [1033–1107]). Ching, Julia. 1986. “Chu Hsi on Personal Cultivation.” In Chan Wing-tsit, ed., Chu Hsi and Neo-Confucianism, 273–291. Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press. (Early study of Zhu Xi’s practices of self-cultivation.) ———. 2000. The Religious Thought of Chu Hsi. Oxford: Oxford University Press. (Most thorough study in English of Zhu Xi’s views on religious beliefs and practices. Written from the perspective of comparative religious studies. Examines Zhu’s views on spirits, ritual, self-­ cultivation, Buddhism, and Daoism.) de Bary, Wm. Theodore. 2004. “Zhu Xi’s Neo-Confucian Spirituality.” In Tu Weiming and Mary Evelyn Tucker, eds., Confucian Spirituality, vol. 2, 72–98. New York: Crossroad. (Unlike most other studies of Zhu Xi’s religious views, which unpack specific concepts, this essay understands the term “spirituality” in its largest sense as a personal expression of awareness, sensitivity, and humaneness in one’s approach to life.) de Bary, Wm. Theodore, and Irene Bloom, eds. 1999. Sources of Chinese Tradition. Vol. 1, 2nd ed. New York: Columbia University Press. (Extensive compilation of translations from Chinese primary sources from antiquity to 1600. Writings by Zhu Xi are featured in chapters 19 and 20.) Ebrey, Patricia B. 1991. Chu Hsi’s Family Rituals. Princeton: Princeton University Press. (Annotated translation and introduction to the Zhuzi jiali 朱子家禮, or Master Zhu’s Family Rituals, a handbook for conducting rites of passage attributed to Zhu Xi.) ———. 1997. “Sung Neo-Confucian Views on Geomancy.” In Irene Bloom and Joshua A. Fogel, eds., Meeting of Minds: Intellectual and Religious Interaction in East Asian Traditions of Thought: Essays in Honor of Wing-tsit Chan and William Theodore de Bary, 75–107. New York: Columbia University Press. (Explores the attitudes of Zhu Xi and other Song thinker toward burial practices, especially the siting of graves.) Fang, Xudong. 2003. “Contemporary Chinese Studies of Zhuzi in Mainland China.” Dao: A Journal of Comparative Philosophy 3.1: 121–141. (English-language survey of important works on Zhu Xi published in mainland China from the 1980s through 2003.) Fu, Xihong 傅錫洪. 2012. “Qi and Sacrificial Offerings in Zhu Xi’s Concept of Ghosts and Spirits 朱熹鬼神觀中的氣與祭祀.” Zhuism Journal 朱子學刊 22. (Gives special attention to the notion of qi, or vital energy, in Zhu Xi’s conceptualization of ghosts and spirits.) ———. 2015a. “Why Are the Two Theses on Spirits and Ghosts Not Two Affairs? A Study on the Construction and Deconstruction of the Unity of Heaven and Man in Confucianism 「 兩樣鬼神」何以「不是二事」:論朱熹鬼神觀兼及江戶儒者的質疑.” Journal of Hangzhou Normal University (Humanities and Social Sciences) 杭州師範大學學報(社會科學版) 2015.3: 10–17. (Analyzes Zhu Xi’s notions of ghosts and spirits vis-a-vis the Li ji 禮記. Traces the influence of Zhu’s ideas in Edo Japan.) ———. 2015b. “Zhu Xi’s Analysis of Ghosts and Spirits in Terms of Qi and the Question on the Existence or Non-existence of Ghosts and Spirits 朱熹以「氣」釋鬼神的思路及其分類——

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兼論「鬼神有無」的問題.” Lishi wenxian yanjiu 歷史文獻研究35: 223–235. (Explores the complexities of Zhu Xi’s understanding of qi, or vital energy, vis-a-vis his ontological understandings of ghosts and spirits.) ———. 2016. “On Zhuism’s Development and Change in Japan’s Edo Period: From the Explanations on ‘Chapter of Ghosts and Spirits’ of The Doctrine of the Mean 從《中庸.鬼 神》章注釋看江戶日本朱子學的展開與變化.” Fudan Journal (Social Sciences) 復旦學報 (社會科學版) 5: 123–29. (Study of Zhu Xi’s understanding of ghosts and spirits in such texts as the Zhong yong 中庸 and its influence on Japanese thinkers such as Yamazaki Ansai and Ito Jinsai.) ———. 2018. “Concepts of Ghosts and Spirits in Song-era Discourses on Principle: Zhu Xi’s Concepts of the ‘Ethereality of yin and yang’ 宋代理學鬼神論的形成:以朱子「陰陽之靈」 的觀念為中心.” Journal of Sun Yat-sen University (Social Science Edition) 中山大學學報 (社會科學版) 58.5: 1–10. (Examines Zhu Xi’s notions of ghosts and spirits vis-a-vis the notions of yin and yang. Gives special attention to the multiple valences of the notion of ling 靈, or ethereality, and its significance in the conduct of sacrificial offerings.) Gardner, Daniel K. 1990. Chu Hsi: Learning to be a Sage. Berkeley: University of California Press. (Annotated translations, with an introduction, of selected passages from Zhu Xi’s discussions on self-cultivation. Explores the significance of such practices as reading for self-perfection.) ———. 1995. “Ghosts and Spirits in the Sung Neo-Confucian World: Chu Hsi on kuei-shen.” Journal of the American Oriental Society 115.4: 598–611. (Examines Zhu Xi’s notions of ghosts and spirits from the perspectives of cosmological principles, oddities, and ancestral spirits.) ———. 1996. “Zhu Xi on Spiritual Beings.” In Donald S.  Lopez, ed., Religions of China in Practice. Princeton: Princeton University Press. (Selected translations from Zhu Xi’s writings on ghosts and spirits.) Graham, Angus C. 1992. Two Chinese Philosophers: The Metaphysics of the Brothers Ch’eng. La Salle: Open Court. First published in 1958. (Early book-length Western study of the thought of Cheng Yi and Cheng Hao that ignores concepts that might be deemed religious.) Jones, David, and Jinli He, eds. 2015. Returning to Zhu Xi: Emerging Patterns within the Supreme Polarity. Albany: State University of New York Press. (Several essays in this edited volume consider aspects of Zhu’s religious thought. Joseph Adler, Yung Sik Kim, and Liu Shu-Hsien examine his notions of the Supreme Polarity, “scientific” and “occult” subjects, and the spirit world, respectively.) Kao, Ming. 1986. “Chu Hsi’s Discipline of Propriety.” In Chan Wing-tsit, ed., Chu Hsi and Neo-­ Confucianism, 312–336. Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press. (Early overview of Zhu Xi’s notion of ritual.) Kim, Yung Sik. 2000. The Natural Philosophy of Chu Hsi (1130–1200). Philadelphia: American Philosophical Society. (Explores Zhu Xi’s fundamental ontological concepts and the ethical principles that inform human interactions with heaven, earth, and all things. Chapter 6 focuses on ghosts and spirits.) ———. 2015. “Zhu Xi on Scientific and Occult Subjects.” In David Jones et al., ed., Returning to Zhu Xi: Emerging Patterns within the Supreme Polarity, 121–146. Albany: State University of New York Press. (Kim uses Western bifurcations between concepts of “scientific” and “occult” to examine Zhu’s views on spirits and other religious phenomena.) Ren, Jiyu. 1986. “Chu Hsi and Religion.” In Chan Wing-tsit, ed., Chu Hsi and Neo-Confucianism, 355–376. Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press. (Early overview of Zhu’s religious concepts.) Sommer, Deborah. 1993. “Chiu Chün’s (1421–1495) On the Conduct of Sacrificial Offerings.” Ph.D. diss., Columbia University. (Examines the importance of the thought of Zhu Xi and other Song thinkers on reforms of fifteenth-century Ming imperial rites.) ———. 1995. “Sacrificial Report to Confucius on the Completion of Restorations at the White Deer Hollow Academy” and “Draft Memorial of 1189.” In Deborah Sommer, ed., Chinese Religion: An Anthology of Sources, 194–196. Oxford: Oxford University Press. (Translation

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of two texts by Zhu Xi that reveal his complex and seemingly contradictory views on human relationships with the spirit world.) ———. 2003. “Destroying Confucius: Iconoclasm in the Confucian Temple.” In Thomas A. Wilson, ed., On Sacred Grounds: Culture, Society, Politics, and the Formation of the Cult of Confucius, 95–133. Cambridge: Harvard University Asia Center. (Examines Zhu Xi’s views concerning representing the human body in ritual contexts and their influence in Ming times.) ———. 2009. “Recent Western Studies of Zhu Xi.” In Wu Zhen 吳震, ed., The World of Song Era Neo-Confucianism: A Focus on Zhu Xi Studies 宋代新儒學的精神世界:以朱子學為中心, 35–51. Shanghai 上海: Huadong shifan daxue chubanshe 華東師範大學出版社. (Annotated bibliography of Western-language studies of Zhu Xi to from the 1980s to 2008.) Su, Shi 蘇軾. 1986. Su Shi’s Collected Works 蘇軾文集. Beijing 北京: Zhonghua shuju 中華書 局. (Collected writings of Su Shi [1037–1101] that contain his influential essay on the relationship of anthropomorphic images to their prototypes.) Taylor, Rodney L. 1997. “Chu Hsi and Meditation.” In Irene T. Bloom and Joshua A. Fogel, eds., Meeting of Minds: Intellectual and Religious Interaction in East Asian Traditions of Thought: Essays in Honor of Wing-tsit Chan and William Theodore de Bary, 43–74. New York: Columbia University Press. (Examines Zhu Xi’s notions of quiet sitting and their importance relative to the significance of study.) Tillman, Hoyt C. 2004. “Zhu Xi’s Prayers to the Spirit of Confucius and Claim to the Transmission of the Way.” Philosophy East and West 54.4: 489–513. (Explores Zhu Xi’s views on relationships between the human and spirit world and their consequence for the daotong道統. Examines Zhu’s views on sacrificial offerings, burial practices, and the spirit of Confucius.) Wilson, Thomas. 2014. “Spirits and the Soul in Confucian Ritual Discourse.” Journal of Chinese Religions 42.2: 185–212. (Examines understandings of spirit [shen 神] in Zhu Xi’s commentary on the Centrality and Equilibrium [Zhongyong 中庸]). Zhang, Qingjiang 張清江. 2013. “A Religious Analysis of Zhu Xi’s Prayers to Confucius 對 朱熹「祝告先聖」的一個宗教學解讀.” Ph.D. diss., Sun Yat-sen University, Guangzhou. (Exploration of the content of Zhu Xi’s zhu 祝, or prayers, with particular attention to the importance of the religious experience and emotional sincerity of the sacrificer.) Zhu, Xi 朱熹. 1930. Complete Works of Master Zhu 朱子大全. Sibu beiyao 四部備要 ed. Shanghai 上海: Zhonghua shuju 中華書局. ———. 1986. Classified Conversations of Master Zhu 朱子語類, edited Li Jingde 黎靖德. Beijing 北京: Zhonghua shuju 中華書局. Deborah Sommer (PhD Columbia University 1993) is a professor of religious studies at Gettysburg College. She was an international fellow of the Institute for International Research at the Hopkins-Nanjing Center in Nanjing (2004) and Fulbright professor at Vilnius University (2010-2011). Her research focuses on body and spirit in ritual praxis, with an emphasis on conceptualizations of the body of Confucius.  

Chapter 24

Science and Natural Philosophy: Zhu Xi on the Scientific Subjects and the Natural World Yung Sik Kim

1 Introduction: Zhu Xi’s Knowledge About the Natural World Zhu Xi included in his learning a broad range of knowledge, beliefs, and practices existing in his time. In fact, he seems to have been interested in constructing an all-­ encompassing system of learning that includes as many things as possible. Thus, his conversations and writings covered not only subjects like classics and histories that were traditionally important for the Confucian learning, but also various other subjects, including what would correspond to the title of this chapter.

Much of the content of this chapter is based upon my discussions in more detail in my book, Kim 2000, and the recent article, Kim 2015. On science in the Song dynasty, see Sun and Zeng 2007; Le 2007. The two basic sources for Zhu Xi’s sayings and writings are Zhuzi yulei 朱子語類 (Classified Conversations of Master Zhu [Xi]: compiled in 1270) and Zhuwengong wenji 朱文公 文集 (Collected Works of Zhu Wengong: compiled in 1534). The following abbreviations are used for references to these sources: WJ60.17a refers to Huian xiansheng Zhuwengong wenji 晦庵先生 朱文公文集, Sibu beiyao 四部備要 edition (reprinted in 1970 by Taiwan Zhonghua shuju 臺灣中 華書局, Taipei 臺北), the 60th juan 卷, p. 17a (WJX and WJB refer to the xuji 續集 and the bieji 別集 respectively.); YL49.2a refers to Zhuzi yulei (1270 edition, reprinted in 1962 by Zhengzhong shuju 正中書局, Taipei 臺北), the 49th juan, p. 2a. The following approximate formula can be used to convert the page in the 1962 Zhengzhong shuju reprint edition (p) into the page in the modern punctuated edition (Zhonghua shuju 中華書局, Beijing, 1986) (q): q = (q0 – 1) + 1.2p, where “q0” is the first page of the relevant juan in the Zhonghua shuju edition. Y. S. Kim (*) Department of Asian History, Seoul National University, Seoul, South Korea e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2020 K.-c. Ng, Y. Huang (eds.), Dao Companion to ZHU Xi’s Philosophy, Dao Companions to Chinese Philosophy 13, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-29175-4_24

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The topics of “science and natural philosophy”1 came up in Zhu Xi’s sayings and writings in various different contexts. 1. First, he wrote and commented upon various scientific subjects, such as calendrical astronomy (li 曆), harmonics (lü 律), geography (dili 地理), mathematics (suan 算), and medicine (yi 醫). 2. Then, there are also his discussions of such borderline subjects as divination (zhanbu 占卜), alchemy (liandan 煉丹), and geomancy (fengshui 風水, literally, “winds and waters”), which, while not be considered “scientific” today, nevertheless touched upon natural phenomena. 3. In addition, there were isolated bits of knowledge about the natural world—and objects and phenomena in it—scattered all over his writings and conversations. 4. Finally, his discussions on such basic concepts as li 理, qi 氣, yin-yang 陰陽, the five phases (wuxing 五行), etc., often deal with issues, which we might characterize as “natural philosophy.” As a sum, these various kinds of Zhu Xi’s knowledge showed an impressive breadth, and sometimes even depth. Yet they do not form a coherent whole. Indeed, for him there is no general notion, comparable to the modern idea of “science,” that covers all the above. Instead, each of them is a part of a larger genre, none of which is confined to the natural realm. For example, Zhu Xi’s knowledge of the first and the second kinds above, the specialized scientific and borderline subjects, are part of a broader genre of specialized knowledge that also includes such other subjects as law, criminal justice, taxation, military affairs, official duties, etc. Of course, each of these subjects was itself a separate, independent area, with its own specialist tradition. But when they were mentioned together, there was never any clear distinction between what belonged to the natural realm and what did not. The isolated items of Zhu Xi’s natural knowledge, the third in the above list, came up in various places of his writings and records of conversations that were primarily focused on moral and social issues. They entered the discussion frequently when Zhu Xi was commenting upon natural phenomena and objects referred to in the classics, which were supposedly written by—or at least contained the intentions of—the sages. In such cases, he discussed natural objects and phenomena in some detail, and his interest in them appeared quite strong. Nevertheless, his actual concern was with elucidating the sages’ intentions rather than with the objects and phenomena themselves. Similarly, Zhu Xi’s discussion of qi, yin-yang, the five phases, etc. did not form a separate genre. These concepts were not confined to what we would call “natural” world; they were endowed with characteristics of life, mind, and morality, as well as matter, and covered everything in the world (Kim 2000: 31–90). Thus, for Zhu Xi, there were no clearly delineated terms which would stand for “science” and “nature,” and which were distinguishable from what is “non-science”  Throughout this chapter I use the words, “science” and “natural philosophy,” very loosely and inclusively, covering various forms of traditional knowledge and discourse about the objects and phenomena in the natural world. My use of them is not confined to the ways the words were actually used in the West historically. 1

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and “non-nature.”2 Furthermore, “science” and “nature” did not neatly correspond to each other. “Science,” even if we could find something in Zhu Xi that we could call by that name, was not a subject devoted exclusively to the study of the natural world. And the natural world was not something to be studied only “scientifically.” In this chapter I will look at these different kinds of Zhu Xi’s knowledge about the natural world, and discuss some of their key features. I begin, in Sect. 2, by discussing the context of Zhu Xi’s interest in the specialized “scientific” subjects. Section 3 takes up these subjects one by one and looks at Zhu Xi’s knowledge and work on them, and attitude towards them. Section 4 offers an overview of Zhu Xi’s notion of the natural world and his characteristic attitude toward natural phenomena, i.e., viewing the objects and phenomena of the natural world as “natural”—as obvious and matter-of-fact. Section 5 then looks at the basic ideas, conceptual schemes, and methods Zhu Xi used in discussing things and events of the natural world, and suggests the ways they might have conditioned his perception and understanding of the natural world. Section 6 concludes by observing that what he did for the scientific subjects was the same kind of work as what he did on classics and history, the subjects of his main concern.

2 Zhu Xi on the Specialized “Scientific” Subjects 2.1 The Context of Zhu Xi’s Interest in the “Scientific” Subjects Zhu Xi showed a considerable interest in the “scientific” subjects like calendrical astronomy, harmonics, and geography, and achieved a significant level of knowledge in them. A few aspects of these scientific subjects made them important for a Confucian scholar like Zhu Xi. First, some of these subjects were associated with key Confucian concepts. The concept of “heaven (tian 天),” for example, was important for calendrical astronomy, the subject that deals with the physical heaven, important for Zhu Xi. Geography and geomancy, on the other hand, could be seen to be connected with the other half of the important term “heaven and earth (tiandi 天地).” The significance of music (yue 樂) as part of Confucian rituals (li 禮) made the related subject of harmonics central. Similarly, the importance of the Book of Changes (Yijing 易經), and the ideas and diagrams in the classic, could be translated into the importance of the subject of “images and numbers (xiangshu 象數),” and divination and alchemy which used them. Alchemy, especially in the form of the “internal alchemy (neidan 內丹),” could be related to the important concept of “the Way (dao 道),” because it

 Zhu Xi did not even have any single word that would stand for “natural” or “the natural world.” While he did use the expression, “ziran 自然,” the standard word for “natural” in modern Chinese, to him the word never meant much more than what it means literally—“so by itself.” 2

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was among the techniques practiced by those who seek the Way, the so-called “masters of the Way (daoshi 道士),” although “the Way” they were seeking were different from the Confucian Way. Some of the above topics were touched upon in passages of ancient classics, and thus were discussed in many commentaries and sub-commentaries of the classics. In fact, topics of calendrical astronomy and harmonics were the ones that were most heavily commented upon in such commentaries. These commentaries, in effect, provided a kind of “classical sanction” for the subjects. Knowledge of some scientific subjects was also present in other standard texts widely studied by Confucian scholars. The official dynastic histories (zhengshi 正史), for example, almost always included sections devoted to astronomy, calendars, harmonics, geography, astrology, and various occult techniques, as well as to rites and music. There also were treatises written by scholars themselves dealing with specialized subjects. The most famous examples were the Tongdian 通典 (Comprehensive Canon) of Du You 杜佑 (735–812) and the Mengxi bitan 夢溪筆談 (Brush Talks of Dream Brook) of Shen Gua 沈括 (1031–1095), which contained knowledge of all sorts of various subjects, and were studied and cited by numerous later Confucian scholars including Zhu Xi. Confucian scholars could find knowledge of some of these subjects useful for the welfare of the people and the country. In particular, knowledge of them was actually needed for performing official duties, because, although traditional Chinese civil service did include offices devoted to specialized branches and filled by specialists, generalist officials like Zhu Xi could still face tasks involving specialized knowledge and, in any case, had to manage and supervise the specialist officials. The doctrine of gewu 格物 (investigation of things) provided a solid philosophical ground for all the above aspects of the Confucian scholars’ interest in the scientific subjects. Interpreted to mean “investigating the li of things (wu 物),”3 the doctrine led Zhu Xi to stress studying things and events in all areas of human concern. He said repeatedly that every single thing or event in the world has its li and should be studied and understood (e.g., YL15.4b, 18.22b, 34.33b, 116.13b, 117.12b). In a letter to a disciple discussing the method of study, he wrote: The way of the Great Learning (Daxue 大學) must begin with “investigation of things and extension of knowledge (gewu zhizhi 格物致知)” and then [move] to the li of all under heaven. Of the books under heaven, there is none not to be “broadly studied (boxue 博學).” (WJ60.16b)

Later in the same letter, he added: “Studies of calendars and images are themselves one school. If one wants to investigate the li exhaustively, one must discuss them also” (WJ60.17a). Thus, Zhu Xi’s basic position about the “scientific” subjects was that they also should be studied, and should not be ignored. He said, for example: “As for [subjects] like harmonics, calendars, criminal justice, laws, astronomy and geography, armies and official positions, [these] must all be understood” (YL117.22b). It was in this vein that he interpreted Zixia’s 子夏 saying in the Analects 19.4 about “the  On Zhu Xi’s ideas of the gewu doctrine, see Kim (2000: 19–30); Qian (1975, vol. 2: 504–50).

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small ways (xiao dao 小道)”—“Even ‘the small ways’ must have what are worth ‘looking at (guan 觀).’ But if pursued too far, one may be bogged down. For this reason great men do not ‘do (wei 為)’ them.” Zhu Xi said: The small ways are not heterodox; they are also ways. It is simply that they are small. [Subjects] like agriculture (nong 農), horticulture (pu 圃), medicine, divination (zhan 占 or bu 卜), and “the hundred techniques (baigong 百工)” also have the ways and li in them. If one seeks the ways and li only in the upward direction, they will not be comprehended. (YL49.2a)

2.2 Zhu Xi’s Attitude Towards the “Scientific” Subjects In spite of his emphasis on the need to study and understand all these specialized scientific subjects, Zhu Xi did not hide his feeling that there were more important issues, namely moral and philosophical matters. In fact, he said repeatedly that one must understand “the basis (ben 本),” or what is “great (da 大),” before moving on to “small” matters (e.g., YL64.5b, 84.3b, 116.13b). It must have been for this reason that his grasp of the scientific subjects never equaled that of the specialists. He even admitted that it was not necessary to try to reach a complete understanding of all the details of these subjects. For example, to the above-quoted remark on the need to understand specialized subjects, he added: “Although one may not be able to see through their essences and subtleties, one should nevertheless know the general outlines. . . .” (YL117.22b). It was natural, then, that Zhu Xi did not hold a very high opinion of specialists in these scientific subjects. For him, they were merely functionary experts in specialized areas which he did not master himself. Sometimes he even appeared confident that he could have mastered those subjects if only he had tried. It was simply that they did not command his full interest that he did not apply himself fully to studying them.4 Zhu Xi’s attitude was different for different branches of scientific knowledge. The subjects that Zhu Xi discussed most frequently were calendrical astronomy, harmonics, and geography. These subjects, for him, were clearly part of the Confucian tradition. On the other hand, toward the practices connected with these subjects, such as astrology (tianwen 天文 or zhanxing 占星), music, and geomancy, his attitude varied. He frequently discussed music, but had little to say about astrology and geomancy. It must have been that he did not fully accept the latter activities, whereas music, a part of the Confucian rituals, was important for him. Another specialized subject discussed frequently by Zhu Xi was the so-called “images and numbers (xiangshu).” Consisting mainly of numerological speculations involving the diagrams of the Book of Changes and simple numbers, it was  Kim (2000: 245–294, esp. pp. 245–50). For a subject that he truly considered difficult and beyond his understanding, namely internal alchemy (neidan 內丹), especially that of the Cantongqi 參同 契 (The Kinship of the Three), Zhu Xi indeed felt an intellectual challenge to master it and exerted great efforts to do so (See Kim 2007). 4

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based essentially on the texts and commentaries of the Book of Changes. He considered the subject to be fully worthy of the attention of Confucian scholars, though various post-Han influences, including much that could be called “Daoist,” had infiltrated it. The study of “images and numbers” was also applied to other practices, such as divination and alchemy. Zhu Xi did not refrain from discussing either of these subjects; indeed, he wrote quite extensively about various aspects of both. Then, there were various other techniques linked with these practices. Zhu Xi had less to say, however, and perhaps had rather low opinions, about these subjects, except for the technique of the “internal alchemy,” or “nourishing life” (yangsheng 養生), in which he had a considerable interest. Zhu Xi was interested in other “scientific” subjects like medicine, mathematics, agriculture, and techniques primarily for their practical utility. But they do not seem to have attracted his intellectual interest quite as much as calendrical astronomy, harmonics, geography, and “images and numbers.” In his comments on “the small ways” we have seen above, Zhu Xi mentioned such fields as medicine, agriculture, horticulture, divination and techniques among his examples of “the small ways,” but not the above four subjects. And then, there were the traditional “six arts (liuyi 六 藝),” the six basic skills which Zhu Xi considered essential for the education of children (xiaoxue 小學): rites, music, archery, charioteering, calligraphy, and computation (YL7.1a–1b). Zhu Xi’s attitude towards the specialist practitioners of these areas also was different from subject to subject. For calendrical astronomy and harmonics, which he valued more and thus studied more in depth and was more well versed in, he did not quite accept the expertise of the specialists. On the other hand, for other subjects that he did not know as much about, he tended to accept the expertise of the specialists; then again, he did not really value what they did. In fact, at times he did not hide his feelings of disdain and distrust toward specialists of certain techniques, those called “the masters of the Way,” “the recipe masters (fangshi 方士),” and “the yin-­ yang specialists (yinyangjia 陰陽家).” In the next section we will take up these subjects one by one and look at his work, understanding, and attitude.

3 Zhu Xi’s Knowledge and Work on Scientific Subjects 3.1 Calendrical Astronomy The main reason for the importance of calendrical astronomy for traditional Chinese government and scholars was the political and ritualistic significance of the “correct” calendar as a symbol of the ruler’s legitimacy. This gave rise to the need for the court to make and maintain accurate calendars and to pronounce a new calendar at the beginning of a new dynasty or a new era. Because of this need, the bureaucracy of the successive Chinese dynasties included offices devoted to calendrical ­astronomy, where such activities as calendar making, astronomical observations,

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and predictions were carried out. Zhu Xi also showed a considerable interest in calendrical astronomy. His conversations and writings contain a fairly large amount of discussion on the subject. Zhu Xi derived his knowledge of calendrical astronomy from various ancient sources. The more important among them were the calendrical treatises of such dynastic histories as the Record of the Historian (Shiji 史記), the History of the [Former] Han Dynasty (Hanshu 漢書), the History of the Later Han Dynasty (Hou Hanshu 後漢書), and the History of the Jin Dynasty (Jinshu 晉書);5 the sub-­ commentaries (shu 疏) of the “Yaodian 堯典 (Canon of Yao)” and “Shundian 舜典 (Canon of Shun)” chapters of the Book of Documents (Shujing 書經) (e.g., YL2.2a–2b, 3a, 6b–7a, 78.5a, 5b–6a, 13b) and of the “Yueling 月令 (Monthly Ordinances)” chapter of the Record of Rites (Liji 禮記) (e.g., YL2.2a–2b, 3b; WJ62.39a). Among the writings of the Northern Song scholars, Zhu Xi frequently referred to such works as the Mengxi bitan and the “Hunyi yi 渾儀議 (Discussion of Armillary Sphere)” of Shen Gua (e.g., YL2.2a, 7a, 12a; WJ45.37b), the Xin yixiang fayao 新儀象法要 (New Method and Synopsis on the Instruments and Images) of Su Song 蘇頌 (1020–1101) (e.g., WJ44.47b; WJX2.7a), and the Zhengmeng 正 蒙 (Correct Teaching for Youth) of Zhang Zai (e.g., YL2.4b, 10a). Of his contemporaries, Zhu Xi spoke frequently of Cai Yuanding 蔡元定 (1135–1198) and his two sons, Cai Yuan 蔡淵 (1156–1236) and Cai Chen 蔡沈 (1167–1230) (e.g., YL2.3b–4b, 11b, 12a–12b, 86.9b–10a).6 Zhu Xi did not simply accept all that were recorded in these sources, however. He expressed his own opinions, sometimes making judgments on the discussions in the sources. In particular, he noted that strong points of different sources lay in different topics. For example, he praised the sub-commentary of the “Yueling” chapter for its statement that heaven makes one full rotation plus one degree a day while the sun makes exactly one rotation, even saying that “no other books on calendar were as good as this theory” (YL2.2b, 3b). The sub-commentary on the “Shundian” chapter, which contained Wang Fan’s 王蕃 (fl. 3rd century CE.) huntian 渾天 theory, was praised by Zhu Xi for its account of the structure of the heavens in general (YL2.2b, 3a). He said that its explanation of the always-visible portion of the heaven’s vault within 36 degrees of the north pole was “very detailed” (YL2.7a). He also mentioned the sub-commentary on the “Yaodian” chapter in connection with the problem of the leap month (runyue 閏月) (YL78.5b–6a, 13b). He recommended the astronomical treatise of the History of the Jin, together with the sub-commentary on the “Yueling,” as works that “no one can do without reading” (WJ62.39a). He also praised the calendrical treatise of the History of the Later Han (YL2.2b). Of the works of Song scholars, Zhu Xi praised Shen Gua’s Mengxi bitan for its account of the movements of the sun and the moon (YL2.7a), and Zhang Zai’s Zhengmeng  Zhu Xi mentioned the calendrical treatises of the Shiji on YL2.11a, 12b; the Hanshu, YL2.2a, 2b, 12b; the Hou Hanshu, YL2.2b; the Jinshu, YL2.4b, WJ62.39a. 6  With Cai Yuanding and his sons, Zhu Xi had extensive correspondences dealing with various specialized subjects. Zhu Xi’s letters to the Cais are collected in WJ44.1a–16b; WJX2.1a–3.6b (Cai Yuanding); WJX3.6b–10a (Cai Yuan); WJX3.10a–11b (Cai Shen). 5

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for its “leftward rotation theory (zuoxuan shuo 左旋說),” the theory that not only the heaven and the fixed stars, but also the sun, the moon, and the five planets all rotate leftward, and also for the explanation of some meteorological phenomena (YL2.4b, 10a).7 Zhu Xi also had a great respect for Cai Yuanding; he even expressed his belief that “since the ancient times, no one’s consideration [of the calendars] reached this place [i.e., the level of Cai Yuanding’s knowledge]” (YL2.12b). Zhu Xi also identified weak points of some sources. For example, he pointed out that the calendrical treatise of the History of the Han is not as good as that of the History of the Later Han (YL2.2b). Zhu Xi also criticized the Zhoubi suanjing 周 髀算經 (Mathematical Classic on the Zhou Gnomon) for its explanation of the movements of the sun and the moon (YL2.7a). He complained of the insufficient information in Su Song’s Xin yixiang fayao about the actual production of the armillary sphere (WJ44.47b; WJX2.7a–7b.) For Zhu Xi, even Cai Yuanding was not good enough at times: for example, when the latter spoke of the movement of heaven without first discussing “the supreme void (taixu 太虛)” (YL2.12b). Zhu Xi’s attitude toward calendrical astronomy and its specialists, the so-called “calendar specialists (lijia 曆家),” was basically in line with what we have noted in the previous section about his attitude toward specialized subjects in general. There were clear limits to his interest in the specialized knowledge of calendrical astronomy. For example, he spoke of “the great things” that were more important than the study of calendars and thus “should be established first” (WJ60.17a). In a letter to Cai Yuanding, he said that “[as for] the calendrical method, it may also be all right to discuss only the general outlines” (WJX2.2b). As for the famous “Yaodian” passage—“One year is three hundred and sixty-six days. By means of leap month, fix the four seasons and complete a year,” for example, he even said: “Even if one does not understand this kind, it is not important” (YL78.5b–6a). In his view, the sub-­ commentary on the “Shundian,” which he praised repeatedly, was “also not very important” (YL78.5a). Zhu Xi frequently took the calendar specialists as mere technical functionaries who could only observe obvious facts and perform computations but could not penetrate profound cosmological problems. He said that “the theories of calendar specialists must be studied also,” but added: “Then, one will see the fine and delicate points” (WJ62.39a). In rejecting the views that four stars near the north pole do not move, he said: “This is a shallow matter of the ‘star specialists (xingjia 星家)’ and is not worth profound discussion” (WJ72.1a). Zhu Xi was aware of the deficiencies in his, and his fellow scholars’, knowledge of calendrical astronomy. He said, for example, that he did not understand Cai Yuanding’s calendrical theories and thus could not tell whether they were correct or not (YL2.12b). Thus, naturally, he was willing to rely on the calendar specialists for technical details of the subject. For example, he admitted that he had not understood

 For the leftward rotation theory, see Kim (2000: 257–59).

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the one additional degree in heaven’s daily rotation until he read the sub-­commentary on the “Yueling” (YL2.2b). Zhu Xi emphasized the need to understand the technical content properly before discussing problems in calendrical astronomy: Even though it is a matter of physical form (xing 形) and concrete things (qi 器), if one has not understood it exhaustively, one should not begin discussions lightly. . . . Even if it is astronomy and geography, one may discuss them only after reading and completely understanding them. (YL101.32a)

But the very fact that he made this remark implies that there were many who treated calendrical knowledge lightly and jumped into discussion without adequately understanding its technical details. Even Zhu Xi’s own discussion does not seem to have been based always upon such a thorough understanding as he demanded from others. Nor did he fully accept the authority of calendar specialists as experts on the subject; he criticized them casually when their views were in conflict with his own. Such an attitude is reflected, for example, in his criticism that calendar specialists did not possess a “determinate method (dingfa 定法)” of calendar making. This criticism was not based on an accurate perception of the actual situation of the calendar astronomy of his time. True, Zhu Xi seems to have known the basic problems of making a luni-solar calendar used in traditional China: to group days into lunar months and solar years while keeping them in accord with the moon’s phases and the sun’s movement along the ecliptic. He frequently mentioned the method of “placing leap [month] (zhi run 置閏),” and praised Cai Chen’s account of the common method of “placing 7 leap months for every 19  years” (YL2.12a). He also mentioned the method of selecting “large” months (30  days long) and “small” months (29 days) (YL2.12a). And although he did not explicitly use the expression, “yearly deviation (suicha 歲差),” he spoke of its consequences: the long-term variations of positions of stars and the resulting variations of the position of the earth’s center (YL2.2a, 86.9a). What Zhu Xi failed to understand was that these problems involved complicated calculations and adjustments, and thus errors in calendrical computations were unavoidable. It was possible to reduce the magnitude of errors with ever more accurate computations, but it was not possible to eliminate them altogether. Indeed, calendar specialists had known about this impossibility for a long time.8 But Zhu Xi simply ignored this complicated situation and believed that the lack of a determinate method was the cause of many errors in calendrical astronomy of his time. He maintained that an exact method without error was possible, and that it was thus the calendar specialists who were responsible for errors in calendars. Although he knew that movements in the heavens were not always uniform, at times faster and at times slower,9 he was convinced that there was a regularity even in such

 The realization of such impossibility by calendar specialists and by some scholars ever since the Han times is documented in Henderson (1984: 110–17). 9  It must have been for this reason that he said that “the calendrical numbers are ‘fine and subtle (weimiao 微妙)’” (YL2.12b). 8

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variations. He believed that by properly accounting for such deviations by means of the determinate method one could describe the movements of the heavenly bodies exactly, without errors. Zhu Xi even asserted that such an exact calendrical method did exist at the times of the ancient sage kings Yao and Shun, but disappeared afterwards (YL2.11b, 86.10a). It was because of the loss of such an exact method that there was no longer a determinate method for the calendar makers of his time, who were busy merely adding and subtracting numbers to fit the calendar to movements of the heavens (YL2.11b).

3.2 Harmonics and Music Music occupied an important place in Chinese culture from the beginning. One of the six Confucian classics was the Classic of Music (Yuejing 樂經), and music was considered as part of Confucian rituals. Sometimes music was even thought to influence the political state of the time. Thus, it was natural that scholars and officials, and at times emperors, should show much interest in music. Because of such importance of music, harmonics, which deals with the numerical relations of the musical notes and instruments that produce them, was also accorded importance. Zhu Xi had a considerable interest in harmonics and music. He composed treatises on them, “Chinlü shuo 琴律說 (Explanation of Musical Instruments and Pitches)” and “Shenglü bian 聲律辨 (Discussion of Sounds and Pitches),” and wrote a preface to Cai Yuanding’s Lü lü xinshu 律呂新書 (New Book on the Pitches). His letters to other scholars also frequently included discussion of various topics in harmonics and music (e.g., WJ45.34b–37b, 58.2a–2b, 60.41b–42a, 63.34a–37b). These conversations and writings show that Zhu Xi’s understanding of the specialized knowledge in these topics reached a certain level of sophistication. Zhu Xi derived his knowledge of harmonics and music from various ancient sources. The most basic was the “Lüshu 律數 (Pitches and Numbers)” chapter of the Record of the Historian, which he praised frequently (e.g., YL92.1b, 11b; WJ66.27b). In his view, the chapter’s account of harmonics, although brief, covered the essential points, which the more detailed accounts in the treatise of the History of the Han did not get (YL92.10a). A few passages of the Analects mentioning music provided occasions for Zhu Xi to discuss the subject.10 Some passages of various other ancient books, such as the Record of Rites, the Rites of Zhou (Zhouli 周禮), the Words on the States (Guoyu 國語), and the Zuo Commentary (Zuozhuan 左傳), touched on more concrete contents of knowledge of harmonics and music and were referred to by Zhu Xi in discussing relevant points.11 Commentaries on

 For examples, YL25.24a–24b on the Analects 3.23, and YL35.19b–24a on the Analects 8.8.  For examples, YL92.10b on the Liji 37.5b; YL86.18b, 92.3a–3b on the Zhouli 22.17b; YL92.4b on the Zhouli 41.9a; YL92.3b on the Guoyu 3.15b; YL92.6a on the Zuozhuan 41.25b. 10 11

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these passages also were sources of information for Zhu Xi. For example, he praised the long discussion on “rotating the gong [sound] (xuan’gong 旋宮)” in the sub-­commentary to the “Liyun 禮運 (Revolving of the Rites)” chapter (juan 22) of the Record of Rites (YL92.2a).12 He noted that the bian’gong 變宮 and bianzhi 變 徵 notes, which were added to the five notes, first appeared in the commentary to the Words on the States (e.g., YL92.3b; WJ45.37a). Zhu Xi’s sources included various post-Han works also. He frequently spoke of the Tongdian of Du You, and praised its clear exposition, especially its accurate numbers and its account of “the son sounds (zisheng 子聲)” (e.g., YL92.1b, 3a, 6a, 6b, 7a, 10a, 11b; WJ45.36b).13 The strong points of Shen Gua’s Mengxi bitan lay in its “discussion of instruments and numbers, [which were] very thorough” (YL92.6a). Zhu Xi’s greatest praise, however, went to Cai Yuanding. In Zhu Xi’s view, no one else had reached the level of Cai Yuanding in understanding the sections on harmonics and calendars in the Record of the Historian (YL92.8b), and the excellent discussions in the Lü lü xinshu, some of which had never been given before, were all firmly based on established earlier methods (YL92.8a; WJ76.18a). Zhu Xi’s attitude toward the “music specialists (yuejia 樂家)” was, on the whole, similar to his attitude toward calendar specialists. He generally accepted their specialist expertise. He said repeatedly that, when one does not understand certain points, one should consult “music specialists” or “those who know sounds and pitches” (YL92.5a, 5b, 8b). Zhu Xi’s respect for the expertise of music specialists seems to have been somewhat greater than that for calendar specialists. This could have been because his own mastery of the specialized knowledge of the subjects was less complete than that of calendrical astronomy. In any case, there was no major issue in harmonics or music over which he advocated a view directly opposite to that of the specialists, which he did with the calendar specialists. In fact, his criticisms were directed more frequently to the scholars who discussed music without sufficiently understanding it (Kim 2000: 263–64). He also criticized his contemporary scholars’ neglect of actual practice of music. For example, noting that even Cai Yuanding could not play the lute, Zhu Xi added that it was like discussing military tactics while seated (YL92.9a). Yet, Zhu Xi did not have a full intellectual respect for music specialists and their knowledge, and in this respect, his attitudes to music specialists and calendar specialists were basically the same. He seemed to believe that he and other scholars would be able to master music, only if they had applied themselves to it: “A music study ought to be established. Let scholar-officials study it. Then after a long time, there necessarily will appear those who have mastered it” (YL92.10b–11a). His low opinion of contemporary music specialists of his time can also be seen from the great admiration he expressed for the ancient music. According to him, the ancients had a true understanding of music and harmonics: They knew about, and actually performed, music and instrument (YL2.11b, 92.7b, 11a). He said repeatedly that

12 13

 On the “rotation of the gong,” see Kim (2000: 261).  On the “son sounds,” see Kim (2000: 260).

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such music of the ancients had been lost; people in his time did not possess a true knowledge of it or have means to study it (e.g., YL25.24b, 35.24a, 92.5a, 7b1, 11a1).

3.3 Geography Geography is another branch of specialized subject in which Zhu Xi had a considerable interest and attained a certain level of knowledge. For example, he wrote a rather long essay on the waterways and mountains recorded in the “Yugong 禹貢 (Tribute to Yu)” chapter of the Book of Documents, “the Nine Rivers (Jiujiang 九 江)” and the Pengli 彭蠡 Lake in particular.14 Detailed geographical discussions were included in his various other essays and treatises also (e.g., WJ71.9b–10a, 11a–12a, 17a–18a, 18a–18b, 18b–19a, 76.26b–27a), and in his letters to other scholars (e.g., WJ37.37b–38a, 38.40b–41a, 51.16b–17a, 52.4a). Zhu Xi’s Chuci jizhu 楚辭集註 (Collected Commentaries on the Chuci) also contained an abundant information on the numerous geographical names appearing in the Chuci. He was frequently engaged in discussions on geographical topics in his conversations, too (e.g., YL25.24b, 35.24a, 92.5a, 7b, 11a). He also discussed various maps and mentioned a method of map-making (e.g., YL2.15b, 16a, 79.5a; WJ38.40a, 40b, 42a–40b). He was said even to have made relief maps in wood, which he carried while travelling (Luo 2002: 3.5b). Much of Zhu Xi’s geographical discussion appeared in his comments on the “Yugong” chapter, and on the ‘tugui 土圭’ method of determining the earth’s center in the “Diguan 地官 (Office of the Earth)” chapter of the Rites of Zhou (e.g., YL2.13a, 86.7b–9a, 10b–11a). Zhu Xi referred to other ancient sources of geographical knowledge, such as the geographical treatise of the History of the Han (e.g., WJ51.16b, 71.9b, 18a, 19a), and the works like Shanhaijing 山海經 (Classic of the Mountains and Rivers) and Shuijing 水經 (Classic of the Waters) (e.g., YL79.4a, 86.8a, 138.1b; WJ71.18a–18b). Buddhist canons were mentioned as source of geographical information about the far western regions, beyond the Kunlun 崑崙 mountain for example (YL2.13b, 86.8b). Among scholars of later periods whose expert geographical knowledge Zhu Xi cited were Li Daoyuan 酈道 元 (d. 527), author of the commentary on the Shuijing, and Xue Changzhou 薛常州 (fl. 1075), author of “the Nine Region Map (Jiuyi tu 九域圖)” (YL79.5a). Zhu Xi noted that geography was “very difficult to understand” (YL79.4b), something that he did not say about calendrical astronomy and harmonics. But the source of the difficulty he mentioned was not that of the content of geographical knowledge, but rather disagreements among different accounts or between a given account and the actual geographical fact. He pointed out many such disagreements, those in the “Yugong” chapter in particular. In fact, much of his geographical

 The essay, titled “Discussion of the Nine Rivers and Pengli (Jiujiang Pengli bian 九江彭蠡辨)” WJ72.5a–11a) in time became something of a standard reference on the topic. 14

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d­ iscussion on the “Yugong” was about discrepancies in its descriptions of various rivers and mountains (e.g., YL2.13a, 79.3b–4a, 4b, 83.28a; WJ72.10a). Zhu Xi himself found many such discrepancies based on his own limited observations, and suspected that there would be a great deal more of them in the areas he had not travelled (YL83.28a; WJ72.10). In his view, the main source for the errors was that King Yu 禹, or the author of the geographical description in the chapter, did not actually observe all the regions whose geography was recorded in the chapter. The descriptions of mountains and rivers in the southern areas, for which King Yu had to rely upon second-hand reports, contained many discrepancies (YL79.3b, 4a, 4b). He criticized other authors, Su Shi 蘇軾 (1037–1101) for example, for relying on speculations and not on actual observation (YL79.2b). Zhu Xi also spoke of historical changes in the names and locations of cities, mountains and rivers as possible sources of discrepancy.15 He did not rule out the possibility of the change of geographical features over a long period of time. The course of the flow of the Yellow River, for example, had changed and was not the same as that at King Yu’s time (YL2.16b). Thus, Zhu Xi’s geographical discussion does not show admiration of ancient knowledge, so characteristic of his attitude to calendrical astronomy and harmonics. On the contrary, he said that one should not pay too much attention to the geography of “Yugong”: “Understanding ‘Yugong’ is not like understanding today’s geography” (YL79.2b). He criticized those who, being afraid of pointing out errors in classical texts, continued to record them (e.g., WJ51.17a, 71.18a, 72.8a). He even found those “laughable” who slavishly followed Mencius’ erroneous interpretation of what was said in the “Yugong” chapter (YL79.4a).

3.4 Medicine Zhu Xi seldom discussed details of specialized medical knowledge, and there is no evidence that his knowledge of medicine reached the level of his knowledge of calendrical astronomy and harmonics. Indeed, medicine, for Zhu Xi, belonged to “the small ways,” and he ranked medical practitioners along with such groups as Daoists, Buddhists, “nourishing-life specialists,” fortunetellers, and technicians. This does not mean, however, that medicine was an unacceptable subject for a Confucian scholar to be interested in, for “the small ways” were “ways” after all and had what are worth “looking at.” Indeed, Zhu Xi showed some degree of interest in the subject. In fact, Zhu Xi seemed to be quite familiar with some classical, and other important, medical texts. He felt that he knew about the two main parts of the Huangdi neijing 黃帝內徑 (Yellow Emperor’s Inner Canon) well enough to say that “the

 “Jiujiang Pengli bian” spoke of many such instances in discussing the locations of “the Nine Rivers.” See also YL127.10. 15

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words spoken in the Suwen 素問 (Basic Questions) are profound. [Those in] the Lingshu 靈樞 (Numinous Axis) are shallow, and comparatively easy” (YL138.1b). In a letter to Cai Yuan, Zhu Xi asked the latter to lend him a book called Suwen yunqi jielüe 素問運氣節略 (Outline of the Movement and Qi in the Suwen) (WJX3.9a). It is recorded that Zhu Xi, in his sickbed a few days before his death, asked Cai Chen to consult the standard etiological text, Zhubing yuanhou lun 諸病 源候論 (Treatise on Origins and Symptoms of Various Diseases) of Chao Yuanfang 巢元方 (fl. 610).16 Zhu Xi also knew and spoke about more recent and less well known medical texts. In a letter, he expressed his desire to obtain and learn about Pang Anshi’s 龐安時 (fl. ca. 1080) commentary on the Nanjing 難經 (Classic of Difficult Problems) (WJX8.4b). He approvingly mentioned Mr. Xu’s 許 “prescriptions to be used necessarily” (biyong fang 必用方) (YL138.7a). He also wrote a brief introductory comment to a medical book written by a certain “Mr. Xia 夏”, which he sent to someone along with the book (WJ76.2b). On the whole, Zhu Xi himself seems to have been familiar with what were available to him. He arranged the publication of Guo Yong’s 郭雍 Shanghan buwang lun 傷寒補亡論 (Treatise on Repairing Cold Damages), to which he wrote a preface (WJ83.21b–22b). In the preface Zhu Xi said that he was “not well versed in the ways [of medicine]” (WJ83.22a–22b), but Zhu Xi was not ambiguous about his own judgment. Zhu Xi’s comments on different methods of locating pulses discussed in Guo Yong’s book was fairly detailed: Zhu Xi preferred the method of Wang Shuhe 王叔和 (210–285), the author of the Maijing 脈經 (Classic of Pulses) to the method of Ding Deyong 丁德用, the author of an eleventh-century commentary on the Nanjing. Nevertheless, Zhu Xi said that Guo Yong’s treatment of Wang Shuhe’s method was rather inadequate. Zhu Xi’s characteristic respect for ancient knowledge in classical texts was shown in the subject of medicine also. He praised the above-mentioned “Mr. Xia’s” medical book for “being based on the [medical] classics and study of the ancients.” (WJ76.2b). His preface to Guo Yong’s book spoke about the need to make the book available to many people “so that [they] know all the details of the ancient and past sages’ ‘ways of medicine (yidao 醫道),’ without blaming their difficulties” (WJ83.22a).

3.5 Mathematics Zhu Xi knew fairly well about some key technical topics of mathematics. A good example was the so-called “gougu 句股” method concerning the relation among the three sides of a rectangular triangle.17 He spoke of its sources in the two ancient

 Cai Shen, “Mengzun ji 夢尊記,” quoted in Miura (1979: 261).  For a brief discussion of this method, which has often been compared to the Pythagorean theorem, see Needham (1959: 22ff). 16 17

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mathematical texts—the Zhoubi suanjing and the Jiuzhang suanshu 九章算術 (Nine Chapters on Mathematical Techniques)—and differences between the various versions, and even expressed his disagreement with Cai Yuanding (e.g., YL86.10b; WJX2.4b, 5b, 12a). When someone asked why the length of the “tugui” gnomon should be eight feet, he readily responded: “This, one must compute using the gougu method” (YL86.10b). For another example, Zhu Xi spoke of the nonary system of units of length, according to which 1 cun 寸 = 9 fen 分 = 9 x 9 li 釐 = 9 x 9 x 9 si 絲 = . . . , and pointed out that, in computations of harmonics, which involve frequent multiplications by 2/3 and 4/3, the nonary system is more convenient than the usual decimal system given in the Tongdian (e.g., YL92.1b, 6a, 10a). He also spoke of mathematical contents found in the commentaries and sub-commentaries to the classics like the Record of Rites and the Rites of Zhou (e.g., WJ68.4b; WJX2.12a). Zhu Xi could perform simple mathematical computations. This was to be expected because computation was one of the basic skills considered to be compulsory subjects for the education of children.18 Indeed, Zhu Xi was quite familiar with, and engaged frequently in, discussions of calendrical astronomy and harmonics, which required certain computational skills. His discussions of rituals and music—descriptions of ceremonial vessels, costumes and musical instruments— also contained computations. For example, in a brief essay on ceremonial vessels, he spoke of methods of computing their volumes, which included computing squares and square roots of numbers.19 But, as we have already noted, Zhu Xi did not value the computational skills of calendar or music specialists very highly. On the whole, his mathematical knowledge did not reach the level of the specialists, called “computation specialists (suanjia 算家).” In his letter to Cai Yuan, he expressed his judgment on the deficiency of his own knowledge in the following words: As for the writings of mathematics (suanxue 算學), I have not understood them so far. I shall just learn from a wise man [like you]. But [your teachings] should be brief and simple to be of use [for me], [which] I hope you will bear in mind. (WJX3.10a)

3.6 Other Areas: Animals and Plants, Agriculture, and Techniques Zhu Xi had a fair amount of detailed knowledge on animal and plant species, especially on plants. He spoke of animals and plants in various different contexts. Most often, what he said about them, sometimes fairly detailed descriptions, came up in

 In YL14.10a, Zhu Xi said that computation, which had been considered “the most trivial” among the six arts, “is still very useful.” 19  The essay is titled, “Hu shuo 壺說 (Explanation of Sacrificial Wine Vessel)” and appears in WJ68.4b–5b. 18

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his comments on the Book of Poetry and the Chuci that contained names of many animals and plants. His commentary on the latter book, the Chuci jizhu, for example, identified and described many of them. Animal and plant names appearing in other classics also provided occasions for him to speak of them. Poems written by him also contained names and descriptions of various plant species.20 He also commented upon plant species found in paintings (YL138.8b, 9a). At times, he could make criticisms on some inaccurate accounts in the specialized literature: the Shanhaijing and Tao Hongjing’s 陶弘景 (456–536) Bencaojing jizhu 本草經集註 (Collected Commentaries on the Classic of Bencao), for example, which were not based on actual observations (e.g., YL138.1b, 15a; WJ71.18b). He also noted frequently that some plant species recorded in ancient texts were either no longer found in his time or different from the ones called by the same names (e.g., YL138.8b1, 14a5–14b; WJ59.24a–24b). Yet, all this did not represent a sustained interest on Zhu Xi’s part in the specialized knowledge of the subject, and thus did not add up to a comprehensive system of knowledge. Good deal of his remarks about animals and plants formed part of the 138th juan 卷 of his Classified Conversations, which collected, under the title, “miscellaneous categories (zalei 雜類),” various pieces of information, sometimes quite odd ones, on animals and plants, together with bits of information on books, words, characters, family names, geographical regions, as well as all kinds of strange things and events. Nor did Zhu Xi value the specialized knowledge of the topic very highly. He even characterized the detailed knowledge of plants as a “trivial branch (moliu 末流)” of “the evidential research (kaozheng 考證),” which, for him, is already a “trivial branch” of learning (WJ59.24b). Agriculture was a subject to which Zhu Xi’s official responsibilities at times required a considerable attention. During his tenure as prefect in Nankang 南康 in 1179–1181 and in Zhangzhou 漳州 in 1190–1191, he wrote many public notices touching on agricultural affairs (e.g., WJ99.6b–13a, 100.9a–11b; WJB9.2a–2b, 2b–3a). In particular, he wrote several of the so-called “proclamation for encouraging agriculture (quannong wen 勸農文),” which showed that he had some knowledge of the agricultural practice in his time.21 The items he specified in them covered key points on important agricultural tasks—tilling, manuring, rice transplanting, weeding, alternative crops, irrigation, silks and hemps, etc. Yet, there is no evidence that he mastered detailed agricultural knowledge; apart from this sort of writings, he did not discuss agricultural topics in any detail. He did say that “the basis of people’s life lies in sufficient food; the basis of [providing] food lies in agriculture” (WJ99.8a), but when he listed lowly subjects of “the small ways,” he included agriculture among them, as we have already seen. Zhu Xi had even less to say about the techniques, which were included in his list of “the small ways.” He had the same characteristic attitude that he showed to other  See especially the series of poems devoted to plants and flowers, e.g., in WJ1.23a–23b, 3.4b–5b, 9.10a. 21  Four “proclamations for encouraging agriculture” are found in WJ99.6b–8a (dated 1179), 8a–9a (dated 1181), 100.9a (dated 1192, but must have been written earlier), WJB 9.2b–3a (dated 1181). 20

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specialized branches. He said: “Those who have accomplished refinement in the hundred techniques, skills and arts also become refined [only] after [having become] familiar [with them]” (YL118.13b). But he did not value knowledge on them very much.

3.7 Borderline Areas: Yijing Divination; Internal Alchemy; Geomancy To Zhu Xi “images and numbers” ranked among those fundamentals that underlie the workings—or the order, or the secrets, or even the mysteries—of the world. The most important sources for the study of “images and numbers” were the Yijing and its commentaries, “Xici zhuan 繫辭傳 (Commentary on the Appended Words)” and “Shuogua zhuan 說卦傳 (Commentary on the Explanation of the Diagrams)” in particular. Charts consisting of various arrangements of simple numbers (often in lines and dots) and the Yijing diagrams—Hetu 河圖 (Yellow River Chart), Luoshu 洛書 (Luo River Diagram), and Xiantian tu 先天圖 (Prior to Heaven Chart), for example—came up frequently in Zhu Xi’s discussion of the subject.22 Zhu Xi himself wrote many separate works on the subject: in particular, Zouyi benyi 周易本義 (Original Meaning of the Yijing), a commentary on the Yijing, and Yixue qimeng 易 學啓蒙 (Introduction to the Study of the Yijing), an introductory manual on the Yijing. His conversations and writings also contained a great amount of quite detailed discussion on speculations and manipulations of diagrams and numbers, as well as practices of divination and alchemy involving concrete examples of them. He also recommended others to study them. For example, he said to a disciple: Have you seen the numbers of Hetu and Luoshu? It is worth looking at when there is nothing to do. Although [they are] not the most important matters, when one plays with these one will be able to get one’s mind flow, change and move. (YL65.8a)

Zhu Xi did not claim that he fully understood the subject of “images and numbers.” He admitted readily that the images of the Yijing diagrams were difficult to understand (YL66.19a). Yet, his opinion of his own knowledge of “images and numbers” does not seem to have been low. He was confident enough, for example, to make judgments on Dong Zhu’s 董銖 discussions on specific numerological issues, using such words as “What you said is correct,” “It caught the point,” “That is clear,” and “That is not right” (e.g., WJ51.13a–13b, 20a–21b). On the other hand, Zhu Xi was critical of his contemporary scholars’ knowledge of “images and numbers” in general. In his view, they tended to indulge in “abstruse and subtle” points and “forced, far-fetched” interpretations (e.g., YL66.19b; WJ67.1a–1b; Yixue

 These charts are presented, along with other charts, in the appendix of Zhu Xi’s Yixue qimeng, and are discussed in detail in the same book, juan 1. The Hetu and Luoshu are discussed also in YL65.8a–9a; WJ37.36a, 38.1a–3a, 4b–5a, 44.7b–8a, 45.38a–38b, 84.3b–4a.

22

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qimeng, preface).23 As for the experts of the subject, whom he referred to as the “shu specialists (shujia 數家),” Zhu Xi did not seem to have much intellectual respect. He even ranked them along with those occultists whom he called “the specialists of techniques (shujia 術家)” and “the recipe masters” (YL65.13a; WJ81.11b). The main application of the study of “images and numbers” was to divination. Indeed, for Zhu Xi, the book Yijing itself was originally intended for use in divination. He said repeatedly that “the Yijing was originally [written by the sages] for divination” (e.g., YL66, passim, 67.5b, 14a; WJ31.15a, 33.32a–32b, 38.21a), Thus, for Zhu Xi, divination based on the Yijing was a perfectly legitimate activity of a Confucian scholar. He even said that everyone—“literati, farmers, artisans and merchants”—will find a use for divination for every affair (YL66.5b). Zhu Xi himself was well versed in the actual methods of the Yijing divination. He spoke frequently of the procedure of divination using milfoil stalks, in particular the so-called method of “sorting out milfoil stalks (sheshi 揲蓍),” which was based on the fragmentary information in the “Xicizhuan” (e.g., YL66.14b, 16b; WJ37.33b, 38.2b, 6b, 44.8a, 12a, 13b, 17a, 45.1b, 60.15b–16a). He wrote a critical essay, titled “Shigua kaowu 蓍卦考誤 (Examination of Milfoil Stalks and hexagrams),” surveying various versions of the method (WJ66.11b–27b). What he considered correct, and had since become the standard procedure, seems to have been the version presented in Chap. 3 of the Yixue qimeng.24 Zhu Xi frequently spoke of ways to interpret the hexagrams obtained as the result of the milfoil-stalk divination (e.g., YL65.6b, 12a–12b, 68.12a, 12a–13b; WJ38.6b, 44.12a, 17a, 59.21b). Another major application of the study of “images and numbers” was to alchemy. The basis for this application had been laid out in the Cantongqi 參同契 (Kinship of the Three), an abstruse ancient text in which various alchemical procedures— including the related chemical, respiratory, and meditational ones—were recorded, frequently in metaphors using associations of hexagrams with alchemical agents, procedures, and apparatuses, as well as with the usual categories of the yin-yang, the five phases, etc. Zhu Xi’s discussion of alchemy was also centered around this book, in which he showed a great interest in his late years. Zhu Xi said that the Cantongqi was difficult to understand, and that people do not dare to discuss it lightly (e.g., YL125.12a, 13a; WJ38.19a; Cantongqi kaoyi 1b). In the Cantongqi kaoyi 參同契考異 (Examination of the Cantongqi), his commentary on the Cantongqi which summed up his understanding of the book, he said repeatedly that “I do not know the detail of the theory,” “It is not clear what this refers to,” or that “I cannot understand in detail” (e.g., Cantongqi kaoyi 4a, 10b, 14b). Yet, Zhu Xi seemed to believe that he had reached an understanding of the essentials of the Cantongqi. For him, the basic points of its alchemical content were that “[what are] of the same category change each other” (tonglei xiangbian 同類相  Of course, there still were scholars whose knowledge of the subject he was willing to rely upon, and to whom he frequently asked questions and expressed wishes to receive instructions on particular problems (e.g., WJ37.32a–33b, 38.1a–19b, 44.1a–16b). 24  It was outlined also in “Yi wujian 易五箴” (WJ85.6a–8b) and in an appendix to the Zhouyi benyi 周易本義. 23

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變) and that “[what are] of different categories cannot accomplish each other” (yilei buneng xiangcheng 異類不能相成) (Cantongqi kaoyi, 12a–12b). He said: “If one gets the outline from these points, then [one will get] the principle of the effort” (WJ67.25b). There is no evidence that Zhu Xi was actually engaged in the alchemical practice, and he did not show a full respect for actual techniques and practitioners of alchemy. He once referred to the alchemical procedures as “‘trivial techniques (moji 末技)’ of oven and fire” (WJ81.11b). In publishing the Cantongqi kaoyi, he did not sign his name, but used a pseudonym, Zou Xin 鄒訢, and added the title, “Master of the Way (Daoshi).” Zhu Xi did not actively endorse the practice of geomancy (fengshui 風水), the task of which was to select auspicious sites for residences and graves. He sounded rather apologetic when he admitted that his own family had used a siting method, which “cannot help being ‘vulgar (su 俗),’ but is still nothing but seeking a peaceful and stable place” (WJX3.4a). He did not explicitly reject the belief underlying geomancy that the state of the qi and its flow at and near a given site, determined by its physical—or topographical—features, influences the conditions of those who reside in the site or those whose ancestors are buried in it. He said that some do not believe in the efficacy of the practices of geomancy because they do not understand their li (YL138.10a). He spoke of the names and views of such past experts of geomancy as Guo Pu 郭璞 (late 3rd centrury) and Lu Yu 陸羽 (fl. 760) (e.g., YL79.3a; Chuci jizhu, juan 7: 312).

4 Zhu Xi on the Natural World and Objects and Phenomena in It In addition to his knowledge and work on the various specialized scientific subjects discussed above, numerous comments scattered all over his writings and conversations show us what Zhu Xi thought about the natural world, and things and objects in it.

4.1 Zhu Xi’s Natural World For Zhu Xi, the world consisted of three basic constituents: heaven and earth (tiandi), the myriad things (wanwu 萬物), and man (ren 人). These three stood in various relations to one another. Heaven (or heaven and earth) produces men and the myriad things. Men and things live—or exist—between heaven and earth. They receive the qi and the mind of heaven and earth as their qi and minds. Of all that is produced by heaven and earth, man is most numinous (ling 靈), for he is endowed with the qi that is most correct, clear, complete, and so on. Man, therefore, forms a triad with heaven and

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earth, and complements the activities of heaven and earth. Zhu Xi also spoke of many aspects in which men and things, especially men, could be viewed as a parallel to heaven and earth. Sometimes the parallelism changed into an identity, giving rise to the notion that man is one with the whole world of heaven and earth, with everything in it (Kim 2000: 108–21). The world made of these three constituents covered everything, not merely the things that can be characterized as “natural”—“physical” or “material.” There was no clear distinction between “natural” and “non-natural” realms in Zhu Xi’s world. Objects and phenomena involving life and mind, and even morality, were included in that world. One consequence of this was that, for Zhu Xi, the “natural” world existed in harmony with the “non-natural”—human and social—world. There could be no possibility of tension between the morally neutral “natural” world and the human world that is governed by morality. On the contrary, and in part owing to the above-mentioned idea of parallelism—and even identity—between man and heaven and earth, the “natural” world was frequently invested with moral qualities. This, then, is what lay at the basis of the idea of “cosmic basis for morality,” the notion that a moral order underlies the natural world, providing a kind of basis for morality (e.g., Metzger 1977: secs. 3i & 3p; Bol 1989).

4.2 Nature as “Natural” The actual objects and phenomena in the natural world do not seem to have mattered very much to Zhu Xi. To be sure, he did advocate the study of the natural world as part of the gewu endeavor. There were even times when he appeared to consider natural phenomena more important than human affairs. He mentioned, for example, “the profundity of ‘the Way of heaven (tiandao 天道)’” as an example of what is “great (da 大)” and “the complications of ‘human affairs (renshi 人事)’” as what is “minute (xi 細)” (YL34.26b). He also said: “As for what is great, heaven and earth and the myriad things; as for what is small, getting up, residing, eating and resting. All [these] are the li of the supreme ultimate (taiji 太極) and yin-yang” (YL6.5a). But the expressions, “the Way of heaven” and “heaven and earth and the myriad things,” referred to the entire world and its working as a whole, and not to particular concrete objects or phenomena, while the human activities mentioned in these examples were really trivialities of daily life, and not the sort that were of important moral and social significance. What was important as the “cosmic basis,” then, were such global notions of the natural world, and not the concrete objects and phenomena. The point, however, is not that those concrete natural objects and phenomena were unimportant, but that they were unproblematic. They were not excluded from Zhu Xi’s concern, but were taken for granted and hence simply accepted without discussion. The natural world—what exists in it, and what happens in it—was “natural” for Zhu Xi. Most of the objects and phenomena in the natural world were, to him, obvious. He took them for granted, and did not feel any need to explain them.

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In fact, they were so “natural” and obvious to him that he frequently alluded to common and familiar natural phenomena in the course of discussing moral and social problems, by adducing analogies between those obvious natural phenomena and some moral and social problems that were more problematic. Rarely did he mention such common natural phenomena for their own sake. For example, Zhu Xi spoke of the fact that once a cart has started to move, no great exertion of force is needed to keep it moving; he argued that, in study also, a great exertion of effort is needed only at the beginning, after which it becomes easy (e.g., YL31.8a, 8b, 9a, 9b, 78.35b). Similarly, to explain that when impurities enter the mind it loses sincerity (cheng 誠) and falls into self-deception, he used the analogy that when gold is mixed with a small amount of silver the whole bulk of gold loses its worth as gold (e.g., YL16.19b, 59.36a). It is not impossible to read into these examples something about Zhu Xi’s views on natural phenomena—the tendency of moving objects and the properties of the mixture of metals. But his real concern lay elsewhere: he was arguing for the necessity of a big effort at the beginning stage of study, and for the importance of sincerity and purity of the mind, by drawing analogies to the natural phenomena he was mentioning. The natural phenomena themselves were not what Zhu Xi was really interested in. Many concrete natural phenomena and objects came up in this context in Zhu Xi’s discussions. For example, his frequent references to effects of medicines and to clarity of water were usually intended for discussions, by way of analogy, on human nature (xing 性) and the state of mind. He resorted to the fixed sequence of the seasons to make the point that the constant human virtues cannot be changed. Even the retrograde motion of planets came up in a similar context, i.e. to illustrate that human mind, normally compassionate, can sometimes become cruel (YL57.12a). He went as far as inventing natural phenomena to support his points concerning analogous human problems. For example, he said that a tree will die if it stops growing for a single day, in order to back up his point that one should keep studying every day (YL72.24a).25

5 Conceptual Schemes and Method of Zhu Xi’s Natural Philosophy 5.1 Basic Ideas and Assumptions for “Natural” Knowledge Several key aspects of Zhu Xi’s basic ideas and assumptions tended to lead him view natural phenomena as so obviously, matter-of-factly, “natural,” as we have seen in the last section.

25

 For more on this and other examples, see Kim (2000: 172–205).

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5.1.1  qi and li Qualities and activities of qi were considered innate by Zhu Xi. Thus, once certain phenomena had been attributed to certain qualities and activities of qi, they were deemed sufficiently accounted for, without any need to look for external causes or hidden mechanisms.26 Zhu Xi’s account of the formation of the earth, for example, illustrates the point. In the beginning of heaven and earth there was only the qi of yin and yang. This qi moved and turned around continuously. When the turning became very rapid, a large quantity of the sediments of qi was compressed. And as there was no outlet [for the sediments], these consolidated to form the earth in the center. (YL1.4b)

He referred to the rapid rotation of qi as what was responsible for the formation of the earth, but he never paid attention to the cause of such rotation. It was almost as if rotation were the “natural” activity for qi. His acceptance of qualities of life as innate to qi had a similar consequence; he simply accepted production of life through congelation of the essences of yin and yang qi—“transformation of qi” (qihua 氣化)—without worrying about the causes of the congelation (e.g., YL1.6a, 94.13a, 13b, 97.4a; WJ52.15a). Thus, it was not necessary for him to look for an external agent that created life. A living being could come into being from qi without such an agent, because, for him, qi was endowed with qualities of life. Zhu Xi’s idea of li 理 also had an effect on his view of natural phenomena and objects as “natural” and obvious.27 The li of an object or phenomenon, for him, was merely something because of which the object exists or the phenomenon takes place as it actually does: when and only when there is li for it does it exist or take place. Thus, li was not conceptually simpler or more fundamental than the object or phenomenon itself. Li referred to a given object or phenomenon as a whole in its totality. It was not something that could be used in the explanation or analysis of the object or phenomenon in simpler terms. When li was mentioned, it was merely invoked to assure the existence or occurrence of the object or phenomenon. Nor was the content of li analyzed. It is to be grasped as a whole. Thus, when Zhu Xi noted regularities in the natural world, he was concerned only with their existence, but not with concrete details, of those regularities which he sometimes referred to as li (Kim 2000: 19–30). For example, when he mentioned

 For more detailed discussion, see Kim (2000: 31–41).  Zhu Xi himself did not provide any explicit definition of li in which he described what the term meant. He came closest to defining it when he said: 26 27

When it comes to things under heaven, for each [of the things] there must be “a reason (gu 故) by which [a thing is] as it is” (suoyiran zhi gu 所以然之故) and “a rule (ze 則) according to which [a thing] ought to be” (suodangran zhi ze 所當然之則). [These are] what are called “li” (Daxue huowen, juan 1, 11b–12a). He expressed the same idea in a slightly different way: “One who exhaustively investigates the li wishes to know ‘that by which events and things are as they are’ and ‘that which they ought to be so’” (WJ64.33a).

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“the li of movement and rest,” it was not something that could facilitate an analytical explanation of the nature and details of movement and rest; it was simply that because of which there is the movement and the rest. When he said, “The reason that [flying birds] fly and [jumping fish] jump is the li” (YL63.12b), this li referred to the particular acts of the bird’s flying and the fish’s jumping and did not embrace any simpler or more fundamental understanding of the acts.28 5.1.2 The Dichotomy of “Above Physical Form” vs. “Below Physical Form” The dichotomy of what is “above physical form (xing er shang 形而上)” versus what is “below physical form (xing er xia 形而下)” also facilitated the ready acceptance of natural phenomena. Abstract and sublime concepts without manifest physical forms (xing)—the Way (dao), li, mind and human nature, for example—belong to the former, while concrete things with tangible physical forms are examples of the latter. Naturally, what is without physical form was difficult to understand and was thought to be important and worthy of further consideration, whereas what has physical form and is visible was easy to understand, and was considered obvious and even trivial. Such an attitude can be seen in the following remark by Zhu Xi: Things are easy to see; the mind has no physical form or measure. The weight and length of things are easy to measure; the weight and length of the mind are difficult to measure. When a thing is in error, only [that] one thing is in error. When the mind is in error, myriad things are in error. (YL51.5a)29

Since most common natural phenomena are accompanied by tangible qualities and physical effects and are “below physical form,” they were thought to be self-evident and were simply accepted in the way they were perceived; no further investigation was attempted beyond the surface of the phenomenal realities of empirical data. Typical was Zhu Xi’s comment on the famous dialogue between Cheng Yi 程頤 (1033–1107) and Shao Yong on the question of where thunder comes from: after Shao Yong posed the question, Cheng Yi answered, “Thunder comes from where  Sometimes Zhu Xi appeared to have something more in mind when he spoke of li, even something like the notion of “law” or “rule.” For instance, he spoke of the following examples of li: “A boat can move only on water; a cart can move only on land” (YL4.5b). Superficially, they appear as laws governing the movements of boats and carts. But these li really refer to the whole fact that boats move on water, or that carts move on land, and not to any general and simple principles, according to which boats and carts move, or which can be used in analyses of the movements of boats and carts. What the above sentence really says, therefore, is simply that a boat can move only on water because the li of boat is that it should move on water, and that a cart can move only on land because the li of a cart is that it should move on land. Yet, that a boat should move on water, and a cart on land, is really a condition for being a boat or a cart. Thus, in the end, the sentence amounts to nothing more than the mere statement that a boat or a cart exists and functions as such because there is the li of boat or a cart. 29  Earlier in the same passage, Zhu Xi expressed the same idea differently: “The error in things has no harm; the error in the mind has harm.” 28

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it comes from,” to which Zhu Xi commented, “Why must one know where it comes from?” (YL100.11a)30 The perennial Confucian emphasis on the reality of the external world also seems to have reinforced the readiness to accept commonly observed natural phenomena. Confucians considered their acceptance of the reality of the world to be what distinguished them from the Daoists and Buddhists. Zhu Xi said, for example: The difference between Confucians’ and Buddhists’ sayings about [human] nature is simply that Buddhists speak of the void (kong 空, xu 虛) [whereas] Confucians speak of reality, and that Buddhists speak of nothingness (wu 無) [whereas] Confucians speak of existence. (YL126.7b)

He was not actively engaged in discussions of the concepts like “void” and “nothingness,” which were too easily associated with the Daoists and Buddhists, who encouraged people to concentrate on introspection without paying attention to the actual world. This made him simply accept natural phenomena rather than engage themselves in abstract, theoretical discussions about them.31

5.2 Categorical and Associative Schemes of Yin–Yang, the Five Phases, etc. The conceptual schemes—yin–yang, the five phases, etc.—that Zhu Xi used in discussing things and events of the natural world are usually sets of categories. And as categories, they are associated with various sets of characteristics. Different characteristics associated with a given category are connected to one another, thus giving rise to a network of mutual associations. For example, characteristics associated with yin and yang are connected among themselves: A yin characteristic is connected with other yin characteristics, and the same is true for yang. When an object or phenomenon is known to have a yang characteristic, it is generally assumed that its other characteristics are also yang. Thus, a yang characteristic is supposed to accompany with, respond to, and interact with, other yang characteristics; it is also supposed that a yang characteristic can be counteracted and held in check by yin characteristics. Such interconnections were used by Zhu Xi in explaining various different problems. For example, in his explanation of why men and women seek each other, the yin–yang associations of the odd–even and the movement–rest dualities were connected in the following manner: [According to] the li under heaven, what is single must move and what is two must be at rest. For instance, man [when alone] necessarily seeks woman and woman [when alone] necessarily seeks man; there spontaneously is movement. If one man and one woman reside in the room [and become two], there must be rest afterwards. (YL65.6a)

30 31

 The dialogue is recorded in Cheng and Cheng (1981: 270).  For more on this, see Kim (2000: sec. 13.5).

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The five-phase scheme also makes frequent use of interconnections among its various associations. Different characteristics associated with a same phase are connected among themselves. For example, spring, the season associated with Wood, is connected with the other Wood characteristics—the direction east, the color “blue-­green” (qing 靑) and the musical note jiao 角, for example. This kind of association was a key mode of “explanation” in Zhu Xi’s discussion of natural phenomena.32 Yet, this sort of interconnections and extensions were precisely what made these schemes useful as conceptual tools for understanding and explaining many complex phenomena and difficult problems. For such interconnections made it possible for one to see connections between the various characteristics thus connected, and to transfer a relation that holds within a particular yin–yang or five-phase set to other sets. Indeed, the principal use of the yin–yang and five-phase schemes, for Zhu Xi, was in this mode of transfer and extension. Moreover, these extensions were not confined within the boundary of what can be referred to as “natural.” More frequently found in Zhu Xi’s discussions involving the yin–yang and five-phase schemes were the extensions from the natural to the non-natural—social, moral, etc.—realms. In numerous cases, associations and relations derived from common familiar natural phenomena were transferred to those concerning more difficult non-natural problems. For example, from the association of the heart with Fire, he inferred: “Thus, [the heart] is a bright, ‘initiating’ thing. Therefore, [it] is provided with many ways and li” (YL5.5a). In fact, the main use of the yin–yang and five-phase schemes in Zhu Xi’s discussion seems to have been of this type rather than explanations of natural phenomena. Some scholars have considered the possible effect of this kind of categorical basic concepts on the development of scientific thinking in China. Needham, for example, believed that the sixty-four hexagram system of the Yijing was a “hindrance” to the development of scientific ideas, while the yin–yang and the five-­ phase schemes “helped” it. Graham, on the other hand, thought that the five-phase associations, unlike the yin-yang characteristics, lacked objectivity and thus were not paid much attention, perhaps because they were felt to be less useful in practice (Needham 1956: 304; Graham 1958: 33). Yet Zhu Xi’s knowledge of the natural world was not completely conditioned by these conceptual schemes. It was never Zhu Xi’s intention to use these schemes for constructing a coherent system of natural knowledge covering all the particulars. Nor were they the sole means for explaining natural phenomena. When alternative explanations were available, they could always be adopted in place of them. Consider the example of the yin–yang scheme, for example. Zhu Xi used it in explaining numerous natural phenomena. The idea of the yin–yang cyclical alternation dominated his discussions of such phenomena as lunar eclipses, seasonal characteristics and sea tides. But he was not forced to use the idea of yin–yang alternation to explain all such phenomena. When a more  Indeed, such categorical and associative character was a universal feature of the traditional Chinese discourse about the natural world, which many commentators have noted and referred to as “correlative thinking” and “the system of correspondence.” See, e.g., Needham (1956); Porkert (1974); Henderson (1984); Graham (1986). 32

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c­ oncrete explanation occurred to him, he could adopt it. His explanation of the phenomenon of the moon’s phases is a good example. He chose to account for it in terms of the relative positions of the sun and the moon even though the yin–yang alternation could have easily explained it. Thus, the yin–yang scheme could not possibly hinder, inhibit, or stand in the way of, the adoption of other explanations. What “prevented” Zhu Xi from reaching the “correct” explanation of phenomena like lunar eclipses and the tides must lie elsewhere—perhaps in the difficulties that the correct explanation posed, or in the lack of additional knowledge necessary for it.33

5.3  Gewu: Zhu Xi’s Method of Learning We have noted that Zhu Xi’s gewu doctrine led him to point out the need to study things and events in the world.34 Yet, Zhu Xi’s gewu endeavor did not primarily involve intellectual procedures. In fact, human’s understanding of the li of things, achieved as the result of gewu, was considered a kind of “resonance” between the mind’s li and the things’ li. This was so because the li of heaven (tianli 天理) resides both in human mind (as the mind’s li) and in things and events (as their li). Thus, when a man has reached the li of a thing or an event, it was described usually as “seeing” the li rather than as “knowing” it. In other words, what he has gained is not so much knowledge of the li as an insight into it (Gardner 1990: 46–53). Also, for such resonance to take place, the mind needs to be in a certain state—empty (xu 虛), bright (ming 明), and tranquil (jing 靜). These are the original states of man’s mind, manifesting the li of heaven to its fullest, unhindered by human desires (renyu 人 欲). In such a state, the mind spontaneously sees the li in things and events, which are nothing but manifestations of the li of heaven contained in the mind itself. Moreover, gaining insight into the many li of individual things and events was not the real aim of the gewu endeavor, the ultimate purpose of which was to reach the li of heaven via the many individual li. The key step in the gewu, then, lay in moving from those individual li to reach the one li of heaven. Yet the connection between the many individual li and the one li of heaven was not easily traceable. It was never clear exactly how the grasp of many individual li can lead to the apprehension of the one li of heaven. All seemed to agree, however, that the step must involve something more than a purely intellectual process. In Zhu Xi’s words, one needs “practice and effort (gongfu 工夫)” and “nourishing (yang 養)” in addition to “knowing” and “understanding.” The mental state described by the term “reverence  The “correct” understanding of the tidal phenomena, for example, required knowledge of gravitation and of the earth’s rotation, which Zhu Xi could never have imagined. 34  Some scholars have discerned a scientific “method” and “spirit” in Zhu Xi’s gewu doctrine. Hu Shih, for example, saw in it “a set of principles on the spirit, the method, and the procedure of investigation and research,” and went as far as to characterize it as “the method of hypothesis and verification by evidence.” Zhu Xi’s problem, according to Hu Shih, was that this scientific spirit was directed exclusively to textual studies, and not to nature. See Hu (1967, esp. pp. 116–18). 33

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(jing 敬)” was important, for when a man is reverent, his mind is “bright,” “transparent,” and “alive,” all li are in his mind and the li of heaven becomes “brilliant.” Thus, moral and intellectual endeavors of a scholar converged in his search for li through gewu. And in this convergence, the moral side was clearly the more important. Of course, the intellectual aspect could not be ignored altogether, but, on the whole, the intellectual elements of the gewu endeavor were fused into its ultimately moral aims. It was to uphold morality and to avoid errors that one investigates things (Kim (2000): 19–30).

6 Concluding Remarks: A Program of Study for Scientific Subjects We have seen that Zhu Xi took the natural world—and objects and phenomena in that world—for granted: for him they were obvious and “natural,” and thus were something to be accepted without discussion. Nevertheless, he studied specialized scientific subjects like calendrical astronomy, harmonics, and geography. In dealing with these subjects, Zhu Xi not only studied them, understood them, explained them, but showed how the subject should be studied, and especially what should be read. He evaluated available texts, commentaries and other earlier works, and identified or established proper texts and commentaries to be used for studying a subject, and sometimes wrote his own commentaries.35 Yet, this is basically the kind of work Zhu Xi did on classics and histories, in which he edited earlier works, established correct meanings and proper texts, corrected errors, and even made changes in the original. That was what he did, for example, with the Four Books (Sishu 四書), the Great Learning in particular (Gardner 1986, 2003). His editorial work also covered writings of such Song scholars as Zhou Dunyi 周敦頥 (1017–1073), Zhang Zai 張載 (1020–1077), Xie Liangzuo 謝良佐 (1050–1103), and Hu Hong 胡宏 (1105–1155), not to mention his compilation of the Jinsilu 近 思錄 (Record of Reflections on Things at Hand) and the Yi–Lo yuanyuanlu 伊洛淵 源錄 (Record of the Origin of the Yi–Lo School). In fact Zhu Xi’s work of this kind was responsible for making some key ancient texts, such as the Mencius, the Great Learning, and the Doctrine of the Mean (Zhongyong 中庸), important in the Confucian learning. We can include the Taiji tu 太極圖 (Diagram on the Supreme Ultimate) among them, for it was largely owing to his initiative that the Taiji tu became a key source for Neo-Confucian metaphysics and cosmology. Also, Zhu Xi’s recognition of the Yijing as a divination text and restoration of the importance of the tradition of “images and numbers” was responsible for fostering a continu For some subjects, Zhu Xi had to show that they could find a proper place in his system, sometimes by showing how some disturbing aspects of the subject could be reconciled with the basic Confucian tenets he upheld. The two basic grounds he resorted to in including subjects like divination and internal alchemy were the possibility of the interaction between qi and the mind, and the connection of these subjects with the Yijing. See Kim (2015: 128–32). 35

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ous interest among Confucian scholars in the studies of images and numbers. Although he did not accept Shao Yong fully, it was mainly owing to Zhu Xi’s eventual acceptance that Shao Yong entered the mainstream Neo-Confucian discourse.36 Zhu Xi did essentially the same thing with the text of internal alchemy, Cantongqi.37 Zhu Xi’s views of not only texts but some earlier cosmological ideas had similar effects on later scholars. For example, the cosmology based on the clear and light qi of heaven turning around the earth at the center made of the turbid and heavy qi, which Zhu Xi derived from various ancient sources, notably the Huainanzi 淮南子, became the standard cosmology for the Neo-Confucians. The “leftward rotation theory” of Zhang Zai, which was mentioned earlier, is yet another example. It was mainly owing to Zhu Xi’s endorsement that this theory became an orthodox Neo-­ Confucian theory. Indeed, this kind of work was what Zhu Xi must have felt he needed to do for the above sort of specialized scientific subjects. Having asserted the importance of the subjects and the necessity to study them he had to decide which texts were the best or correct ones to be studied. What he did was to prepare a program of study for these specialized scientific subjects for scholars and for students to follow, just as he did for the moral and social philosophies.38

References Bol, Peter K. 1989. “Chu Hsi’s Redefinition of Literati Learning.” In de Bary and Chaffee 1989: 151–85. Cheng, Hao 程顥, and Cheng Yi 程頤 1981. Surviving Works of the Chengs of Henan 河南程氏 遺書: Collections of [the Writings of] the Two Cheng’s 二程集. Modern punctuated edition. Beijing 北京: Zhonghua shuju 中華書局. de Bary, William Theodore. 1989. “Chu Hsi’s Aims as an Educator.” In de Bary and Chaffee 1989: 186–218. de Bary, William Theodore, and John W.  Chaffee, eds. 1989. Neo-Confucian Education: The Formative Stage. Berkeley: University of California Press. Gardner, Daniel K. 1986. Chu Hsi and the Ta-Hsueh: Neo-Confucian Reflection on the Confucian Canon. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. ———. 1990. Chu Hsi: Learning to Be a Sage. Berkeley: University of California Press. ———. 2003. Zhu Xi’s Reading of the Analects: Canon, Commentary, and the Classical Tradition. New York: Columbia University Press. Graham, A.C. 1958. Two Chinese Philosophers: Ch’eng Ming-tao and Ch’eng Yi-ch’üan. London: Lund Humphries. (A pioneering and classic study of the philosophy of the Cheng brothers, focusing on their ideas about key philosophical concepts.)  For Zhu Xi’s attitude on Shao Yong, see Kim (2000: 267–68); Wyatt (1985).  Of course, the Cantongqi did not become a key Confucian text. His followers did not pick it up, perhaps because he did not endorse it fully. But still, Zhu Xi’s work on it was responsible for attracting the interest of many scholars in it. 38  For this aspect of Zhu Xi’s “program of learning” in general, see, e.g., de Bary (1989); Gardner (1990: 35ff). 36 37

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———. 1986. Yin-Yang and the Nature of Correlative Thinking. Singapore: The Institute of East Asian Philosophies. (A good, brief introduction to the key characteristics yin-yang, the five phases, and the correlative thinking.) Henderson, John B. 1984. The Development and Decline of Chinese Cosmology. New  York: Columbia University Press. (A good survey of the rise, development, and decline of the Correlative thinking in China.) Hu, Shih. 1967. “The Scientific Spirit and Method in Chinese Philosophy.” In Charles A. Moore, eds., The Chinese Mind, 104–31. Honolulu: The University of Hawaii Press. Originally presented at the Third East–West Philosophers’ Conference, held in Honolulu in 1959. Kim, Yung Sik. 2000. The Natural Philosophy of Chu Hsi (1130–1200). Philadelphia: American Philosophical Society. (An account of Zhu Xi’s ideaas about the natural world and his attitude toward scientific and technical knowledge.) ———. 2007. “The Ts’an-t’ung-ch’i k’ao-i and the Place of Internal Alchemy (Nei-tan) in Chu Hsi’s Thought.” Monumenta Serica 55: 99–131. ———. 2015. “Zhu Xi on Scientific and Occult Subjects: Defining and Extending the Boundaries of Confucian Learning.” In David Jones and Jinli He, eds., Returning to Zhu Xi: Emerging Patterns within the Supreme Polarity, 121–46. Albany: State University of New York Press. Le, Aiguo 樂愛國. 2007. Science and Confucianism in the Song dynasty 宋代的儒學與科學. Beijing 北京: Zhongguo kexuejishu chubanshe 中國科學技術出版社. (An account of Song Confucian scholars’ ideas about the natural world and their attitude toward scientific knowledge.) Luo, Dajing 羅大經. 2002. Dewdrops of Temples 鶴林玉露. Wenyuan’ge Siku quanshu intranet ed. 文淵閣四庫全書內聯網版. Hong Kong 香港: Digital Heritage Publishing 迪志文化出 版. Metzger, Thomas A. 1977. Escape from Predicament: Neo-Confucianism and China’s Evolving Political Culture. New York: Columbia University Press. Miura, Kunio 三浦國雄. 1979. Master Chu 朱子. Tokyo: Kōdansha 講談社. (A good biography of Zhu Xi and an introduction to the key texts of Zhu Xi.) Needham, Joseph. 1956. Science and Civilisation in China, vol. 2. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. (A survey of the history of Chinese thought, focusing on its relevance to science and technology.) ———. 1959. Science and Civilisation in China, vol. 3. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. (A history of Chinese mathematics, astronomy, geography, and geology.) Porkert, Manfred. 1974. The Theoretical Foundations of Chinese Medicine: Systems of Correspondence. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press. (A rigorous analysis of what the author considers to be the theoretical basis of Chinese medicine.) Qian, Mu 錢穆. 1975. New Anthology and Critical Accounts of Mater Zhu 朱子新學案. 5 vols. Taipei 臺北: Sanmin shuju 三民書局. Sun, Xiaochun 孫小淳, and Zeng Xiongsheng 曾雄生, eds. 2007. Science in the State Culture of the Song Dynasty 宋代國家文化中的科學. Beijing 北京: Zhongguo kexuejishu chubanshe 中 國科學技術出版社. (A collection of essays on the relation between science and the state in the Song period.) Wyatt, Don J.  1985. “Chu Hsi’s Critique of Shao Yung: One Instance of the Stand Against Fatalism.” Harvard Journal of Asiatic Studies 45: 649–66. Zhu, Xi 朱熹. 1962. Zhuzi yulei 朱子語類 (Classified Conversations of Master Zhu [Xi]). Compiled in 1270; reprinted in 1962. Taipei 臺北: Zhengzhong shuju 正中書局. ———. 1970. Huian xiansheng Zhuwengong wenji 晦庵先生朱文公文集 (Collected Works of Zhu Wengong). Sibu beiyao 四部備要 ed. Compiled in 1534; reprinted in 1970. Taipei 臺北: Zhonghua shuju 臺灣中華書局. ———. 2002. Cantongqi kaoyi 參同契考異 (Examination of the Cantongqi). Wenyuan’ge Siku quanshu intranet edition 文淵閣四庫全書內聯網版. Hong Kong 香港: Digital Heritage Publishing 迪志文化出版.

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Yung Sik Kim is a professor emeritus at Seoul National University, where he was a professor at the Department of Asian History and the Program in History and Philosophy of Science until he retired in 2013. He received his PhD from Princeton University in 1980 and works on various aspects of Confucian scholars’ thought and knowledge, in particular their attitudes toward scientific, technical, and occult subjects.  

Chapter 25

The Worldview of Zhu Xi Chan-liang Wu

1 Introduction Neo-Confucianism is not just a kind of philosophy, but a particular way of life aimed at realizing the highest virtues embedded in human nature and following the cosmic principle/grain (or principle/pattern, tian li 天理, often shortened as principle in this chapter while discussing Zhu’s thought) so as to fulfill one’s family, lineage, and socio-political responsibilities in the best possible way. Since the days of Zhou Dunyi 周敦頤 (1017–1073) and the Cheng brothers—Cheng Hao 程顥 (1032–1085) and Cheng Yi 程頤 (1033–1107), Neo-Confucian masters have seldom written or taught in a sophisticated or philosophical way. They instructed, but did not like to argue. They dictated, but seldom wrote. Their sole pursuit was to live like a Confucian sage, that is, one who brings to perfection the ethical and socio-­ political goals of Confucianism. Therefore, the best way to interpret Neo-Confucian teachings is to view them as guidance from sagely figures on how to perfectly live and behave in the world, with their own lives serving as examples. In most cases, their teachings are not just philosophical doctrines that interpret the world, but are rather practical wisdom and guidance that teach us about the meaning and art of life in this highly complex world. To be sure, their teachings do include a philosophy, and a very profound one, but we must keep in mind the origin and goals of this philosophy so as to understand its meaning. Many scholars have pointed out that most traditional Chinese scholars tend to think in a holistic way rather than an analytical way (Qian 1995: 44–45). This is also true of the Neo-Confucians in their pursuit of the meaning and art, or the Way (dao 道), of life. This feature seems to be deeply rooted in the fact that the major concern C.-l. Wu (*) Department of History, National Taiwan University, Taipei, Taiwan, Republic of China e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2020 K.-c. Ng, Y. Huang (eds.), Dao Companion to ZHU Xi’s Philosophy, Dao Companions to Chinese Philosophy 13, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-29175-4_25

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of Confucians is to enhance the welfare of society and to manage their family, ­lineage, nation, and “the world” in the best possible way. In dealing with the complexities of society, they emphasize observing and thinking holistically in order to put everyone and every aspect in the right place. Moreover, traditional Chinese society was organized in a “lineage-oriented” way, in which mutual relationships and affections were the first concern. Since everyone in this kind of long-lived entity is closely and complexly related, things usually cannot be dealt with in an analytical, linear, judicial, or, less to say, mathematical way. When we examine Neo-Confucian works or sayings, we almost always find that ontological, cosmological, epistemological, ethical, political, and religious issues are intertwined together and nearly impossible to separate. Together, they form a worldview. This appears to be a reflection of the organizational principles of Chinese society during the Song dynasty and a natural result of Neo-Confucianism’s holistic mode of thinking. Neo-Confucian works and sayings usually do not start from any of the clearly defined ontological, cosmological, epistemological, or even ethical/political questions that are basic to Western thinkers. Rather, they try to convey a picture of the entire world in which all the issues are included and related. This picture could be called their worldview, since it represents their ultimate understanding of the world and is the foundation of all Neo-Confucian thought.1 To be more precise, the “worldview” I intend to study here is a set of basic assumptions and viewpoints about the nature and organization of the universe and about human life held by a single individual or group of people that could be studied and then used to explain the basic characteristics and range of the world they perceive. Discourses on the Neo-­ Confucian worldview typically start with a description of a unified and fundamental “principle,” reflecting their basic assumptions and viewpoints of both the natural and human world, followed by a succinct interpretation of how the whole world is related to this “principle,” the unity and simplicity of which help it to serve as an ultimate guide to the highest meaning and art of life. The Neo-Confucian masters were so very serious about their worldviews that we may find that they repeated them again and again in their works, not in an analytical way, but in a repetitive and highly refined and succinct way that often confuses modern readers expecting a “clear,” well-defined, and elaborate analysis of one’s philosophy. The foundational works of this tradition are Zhou Dunyi’s 周敦頤 Taijitu shuo 太極圖說 (On the Diagram of Supreme Polarity) and Tongshu 通書 (Book on General Principles),  Heidegger pointed out that only the moderns have worldviews because moderns, like Descartes, began to view the world from his own subjectum (“Being-already-at-hand”) and try to form a socalled objective view of the entire world. To him, “the nature of modern times is the objectification of Being” that witnessed the rise of “subjectum and objectivism,” and the so-called “worldview” is also a product in this process (Heidegger 1976: 349–51). Zhu Xi did not view the world from this perspective because he did not really separate one’s “subjectivity” from “the objectivity.” He did not see what he perceived as reality (being or existent in Heidegger’s term), but as what the reality revealed to him in an intra-subjective way. Hence, according to Heidegger, what Zhu Xi has is not a modern worldview but only a kind of traditional world theory. However, since Heidegger’s usage of worldview is quite unique, I shall still stick to the term of “worldview” in the sense as explained in my article, which, in Heideggerian point of view, is only a kind of world theory. 1

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Zhang Zai’s 張載 (1020–1077) Zhengmeng 正蒙 (Correcting Youthful Ignorance), the Cheng brother’s Yulu 語錄 (Quotations), and Cheng Yi’s Yizhuan 易傳 (Commentaries on the Yijing), all of which were inherited and integrated by Zhu Xi 朱熹, often taken as the greatest Neo-Confucian. As a kind of ultimate and often succinct guide to the meaning and art of life, and being the crystallization of long-term holistic thinking, the Neo-Confucian worldview is by nature not easily grasped by modern readers. Ever since the latter nineteenth century, the Western “scientific worldview” had gradually totally supplanted the traditional Chinese worldview, and scholars could not avoid using these new concepts to conduct a severe critique of tradition. Thus they tended to dismiss as superstition or irrational thought the basic elements of the traditional worldview, such as dao 道, qi 氣, yinyang 陰陽, the Five Phases (wuxing 五行), No Ultimate (wuji 無極), taiji 太極, the Mandate of Heaven, and inductance (ganying 感應). The dominant trend in modern East Asian academic research thus was to use the language, categories, and worldview of the modern West to reevaluate or reinterpret East Asian tradition, without a real understanding of the basic differences between the worldviews and linguisticality of the East and West. This often makes many of the words, statements, and writings of the ancients difficult for people of the modern era to grasp, and sometimes they are totally misunderstood. Here I am not arguing that we cannot use modern or Western language and methodology to research the non-Western world; rather, my point is that we must first strive to recognize and understand these basic distinctions. The Western academy has a long history of research on the concept of weltanschauung, or worldview, but in East Asian intellectual circles the issue of the traditional worldview has long been neglected. This stems from the tendency of many Asians to regard the traditional worldview as somehow backward or outdated, but in-depth research on this issue is essential to revealing the character of traditional thought and culture. The importance of a worldview is that it points to an individual or group’s most basic views and presuppositions about the universe and human existence. Since these views and presuppositions largely define the character and scope of the world as understood by the ancients, and these understandings completely permeate thought and behavior, they have truly profound influence. Without a proper understating of the traditional worldview and the intention and mode of thinking of the Neo-Confucians, there are, not surprisingly, serious disagreements among modern scholars about how to interpret Neo-Confucianism, to the extent that they lack a common ground for discussion. This is especially true in the case of Zhu Xi.2 While using modern worldview and modes of thinking to interpret Neo-Confucianism, many scholars tend to find Zhu’s thought very confusing, often self-contradictory, and even incomprehensible.3 This problem is especially serious when scholars try to use a specific Western philosophical school or system to establish their interpretive model.  For a good review of this problem, see Jin Chunfeng (Jin 1998:1–4).  The most famous historian of Chinese philosophy, Feng Youlan, for example, held this view (Feng 1991, vol. 5: 192). 2 3

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Modern Chinese scholars tend to use philosophical frameworks derived mostly from eighteenth- or nineteenth-century Western thought to analyze Neo-­ Confucianism, turning to idealism, materialism, neo-realism, Kantianism, Hegelianism, Marxism, rationalism, empiricism, and the like.4 Since the worldviews and modes of thinking behind these philosophical systems are so very different from those of Song philosophers, it is almost impossible to avoid errors. Modern Western scholars, having a much better grasp of these “isms,” usually avoid this kind of basic mistake and some scholars, like Joseph Needham, have made remarkable achievements in this field.5 But even so, they tend to choose an overly simplified and systematic philosophical framework to analyze the lively world of thought of Neo-Confucianism, and, as a result of some pitfalls that are hard to avoid, neglect some subtle but important differences. The best way to solve this problem is to return to Zhu’s own worldview, mode of thinking, and original concerns. The Neo-Confucian worldview always points to the dao, or the highest meaning and art of life, and hence tends to be unitary and exclusive. However, it is still possible to study the dao and the assumptions and viewpoints behind it from different perspectives, and it therefore makes no sense to assume that there is only one way to interpret the basic characteristics of Zhu’s worldview. In fact, we may recognize quite different characteristics of the Neo-Confucian worldview if we compare it to different modes of thought or cultural systems. “The other” can always serve as a mirror to the self, and different mirrors can reflect different self-images. In the essay, I often use the West as a mirror.6 Zhu’s worldview has four basic characteristics. They are, in the proper order, “this-worldly” monism, cyclic evolution, organicism, and the belief in a cosmic principle/grain (tian li 天理, while discussing Neo-Confucian thought, the word “principle” used in this essay always refers to principle/grain since the so-called “principle” is not transcendent to but embedded in this world in their thought). These attributes are closely related and must be considered as a whole, although each individually implies an entire set of secondary concepts and ideas.7  Feng Youlan starts his analysis of Zhu Xi from neo-realism and an Enlightenment worldview (Feng 2000. vol.3: 322–47). Mou Zongsan, one of the most famous modern Chinese philosophers and historians of philosophy, uses Kantian philosophy and the Enlightenment worldview as his starting point of analysis (Mou 1968, vol. 3). Chen Lai, the most famous contemporary interpreter of Zhu Xi’s philosophy, basically inherits Feng’s interpretation of Zhu Xi and starts his own analysis by asking whether Zhu is an idealist or a materialist, a li 理 monist or a li and qi 氣 dualist (Chen 1987). The logic and philosophies of these scholars all come from the mainstream modern, or the Enlightenment, worldview. 5  Joseph Needham’s interpretation of Zhu Xi’s worldview is highly original, inspiring, and probably much more accurate than most of the so-called “modernized” scholarship in China. He points out that Zhu held an organismic worldview and a kind of process philosophy that is fundamentally different from the mechanistic and atomistic worldview of the Enlightenment (Needham 1954, vol. 2: 455–505). 6  For a more detailed discussion of the above questions, see Chan-liang Wu, “The Basic Characteristics of Zhu Xi’s Worldview (Zhuzi shijieguan tixi de jiben tezhi 朱子世界觀體系的基 本特質)” (Wu 2008). 7  The following discussion of the four basic characteristics and parts of the above introduction refers extensively to Chan-liang Wu, “The Basic Characteristics of Zhu Xi’s Worldview” in 4

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2 This-Worldly Monism This-worldliness has been widely accepted as a basic characteristic of Chinese civilization (Mote 1971: 17–28); however, the rich and often-profound meaning of this feature is yet to be studied.8 In comparison to Platonism, Christianity, and other major systems of thought, the worldview of Zhu Xi is highly oriented toward this world. This this-worldly orientation of traditional Confucianism is closely connected to its emphasis on the priority of the human being, family, nation, and ethical relations. This does not mean that they neglect heaven, deities, or ghosts, but the emphasis is always on this world. In order to establish an ultimate guide to the meaning and art of life, Zhu and other Neo-Confucians built a comprehensive and coherent interpretation of the entire world, with emphasis on what is perceivable and tangible. This tendency gave rise to their this-worldly monism, intended to reveal the ultimate guiding principle behind all observable phenomena and serving as the intellectual basis of their idea of the Way. In this connection, the frst thing Neo-Confucians had to decide was whether there is another world, or a world beyond and outside this world. Zhu, following Confucius, maintains that one should not be overly concerned about what happens before or after this life, and not talk too much about such strange phenomena as monsters, fairies, ghosts, and deities (Zhu 1970: [126] 15, [3] 1).9 He, like most Neo-Confucians, tends to start from things perceivable and at hand, and does not like to discuss the ideas of creator or soul. Zhu does, however, offer an interpretation of ghosts, deities, and experiences before and after life. To him, ghosts and deities, like fairies and monsters, are merely unusual phenomena of this world, which is full of wonder in and of itself. In Zhu’s explanation, the accretion and dispersion of qi (matter/energy), the “dynamic element” of the cosmos, gives rise to everything. Life comes from this accretion of matter/energy, and when something dies, this matter/energy gradually disperses into its original or “uncondensed” form again. Before this matter/energy is fully dispersed, it can still exist in certain forms; hence ghosts may appear from time to time. There are also some individuals who stubbornly refuse to fade away, and their bitterness causes the matter/energy of their body/mind to linger in this world as an evil spirit. But even the qi of these evil spirits will eventually disperse. A deity basically represents the “pure spirit” of mountains, rivers, and earth, and is Humanitas Taiwanica (Taida wenshizhe xuebao 臺大文史哲學報) 68 (Wu 2008), and has obtained the permission from the Chinese publisher. 8 This-worldly monism is the starting point of my analysis of Zhu Xi’s worldview, while Needham, a distinguished biologist, starts his analysis of Zhu Xi from organicism, a philosophy he traced back mainly to the Han dynasty and Zhuangzi (Needham 1954, vol. 2: 52, 248, 281, 288). However, this-worldly monism could be traced back not only to Han and Daoist thought, but also to the preQin Confucian and Yin-Yang traditions. Chinese organicism, from my point of view, is a derivative of this-worldly monism, both philosophically and historically. 9 While most Neo-Confucians follow Confucius’ example and seldom mentioned strange phenomena, Zhu Xi often discussed them, but in a very restrained way (Wu 2013).

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seen as the quintessence of the massive agglomeration of matter/energy within these entities. To Zhu, both ghosts and deities are merely unusual phenomena within the cosmic process, like a flower blossoming during the winter, and he advises people to attend to their own affairs and not devote too much attention to these strange things (Wu 2013).10 Zhu believed that everything is made of qi, and is guided by li, or the principles/ grain of this qi-made world. Qi and li, according to Zhu, are always inseparable, since they stand for different aspects of the same thing and the same dao. The result of this is a this-worldly monism, a belief in the unity of all things and in the absence of anything beyond this world—or at least anything we should care about.11 This is fundamentally different from the dualism inherent in the Greek tradition and the “genus monism” characteristic of Christianity. In Plato and in Christianity, Being, truth, and the real goal of life lie not in this world, but in the world beyond (Lovejoy 1978). However, to Zhu, reality and truth reside in this world. This may be the most important and fundamental distinction between the Chinese and Western intellectual and cultural traditions.12 The first tenet derived from Zhu’s this-worldly monism is that all things come from the same origin, are mutually inseparable, and have no difference in essence. This world is basically an inseparable whole, and no individual element can exist without all the others. Individual parts cannot represent the whole, but only the world as a whole can represent reality.13 In other words, the dao, or the Ultimate, must include the entire world; otherwise it is not the dao. From a Western point of view, this is clearly a kind of holism.14 Chinese intellectuals during the Song periods derived two kinds of worldview from this type of holism: qi monism and the monist view of the unity of li and qi. Zhang Zai’s theory represents the first variety, while Cheng Yi developed the second sort, and Zhu tried to integrate them into one system. To Zhu, the two theories merely represented different aspects of the same unified cosmos.15 The concept of qi monism can be seen everywhere in Zhu’s writings. He believes that heaven and earth are both manifestations of an enormous mass of rotating qi, while heaven, as a lighter form of qi, orbits the earth. In Zhu’s view, then, earth represents a heavier and “more condensed” version of this substance, and all “creatures,” including mankind, come from this huge mass of revolving qi. That means  Frederick W. Mote holds a similar notion of Chinese spirits and gods (Mote 1971: 21–22).  Zhu Xi admits that there are questions that he can never answer, like whether this world has a limit or what is beyond “this world” (Zhu 1970: [3] 33). 12  Chang Kwang-chih’s theory of the “continuity” of Chinese civilization could be seen as a characteristic of this kind of cosmology (Chang 1986: 8). 13  Zhu Xi’s theory that “the principle is one but divided into myriads” and “the myriads things altogether is one Taiji, each object contains one Taiji” are representations of this kind of thought. 14  Qian Mu took this as the most fundamental characteristic of Chinese civilization (Qian 1987: 1–24). 15  Zhu Xi adopted both parties’ points of view in his most famous anthology of the Northern NeoConfucian masters—Reflections on Things at Hand (Zhu 1967: [1]). 10 11

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heaven, earth, mankind, and the rest of the world all enjoy a common origin and are all part of a unified whole (Zhu 1970: [98] 2511, [1] 6). Everything emerged from the same qi. If, however, there were no variation within the qi, then, there could be no possibility of variety or change. To illustrate this variety and change within the world, together with the unity of all things, Zhu used the ancient theories of yinyang and the Five Phases. Yin stands for the static, cold, contracting state of qi, while yang stands for its dynamic, warm, extending state. Without the concept of coldness, to say an object is warm is meaningless; without extension, there can be nothing called contraction. Yin and yang are thus two opposite but inseparable aspects of the same thing, together they consist taiji. To Zhu, this is the basic law of the universe, a law that could be seen to be at work everywhere and in everything. We can say that yin and yang represent two “dialectical” aspects of the same basic element—qi—and that this qi is nothing but yin and yang. To Zhu, all things contain their opposites, and everything is part of an inseparable whole (Zhu 1970: [1] 6, [98] 2507). This is a holistic worldview that puts the utmost emphasis on intra-subjectivity—each subject’s existence intermixes with and penetrates into other subjects’ existence, and is reflected in the Chinese ideas of family and society. To Zhu, while yin and yang represent one qi, the pair could be further subdivided into four or five components. Spring represents the “junior yang” and summer the “senior yang,” while autumn stands for the “junior yin” and winter the “senior yin.” If we add a transitional phase between each season, then there are five different types or phases of cosmic movement altogether. Taken together, these Five Phases are also called taiji, or the Ultimate Principle that expresses the unity and inseparable wholeness of the world. Since taiji is nothing more than the concept of the totality of Five Phases or yin and yang, Zhu often reminds his readers that it is only an abstract principle, and not a concrete entity (Zhu 1967: [3] 46–47). This oneness of the cosmos is nothing but the infinite division of yin and yang and the continuous multiplication of the myriad things. To him, these divisions and multiplications all come from an identical origin and share the same ultimate principle. One need only investigate into the yin and yang, the complimentary principle that exists everywhere, of even a tiny thing, to see the ultimate principle and appreciate the richness of the world, and we should never search for the taiji apart from things (Zhu 1967: [3] 41). Heaven and earth come from one qi, and everything that we place in arbitrary categories of material and spiritual, inorganic and organic, human and ghost, share the same origin. Therefore, to Zhu, these dichotomies simply do not exist. Moreover, to Zhu, the principle of nature and humanity is also one. That is why he often applied principles he observed in the universe directly to human beings, a taboo in contemporary Western thinking. However, since the categories and language he used came not from an analytical but holistic tradition, we may need to reconsider the validity of this kind of thinking before reaching a conclusion. What stands before us, then, is a set of concepts completely different from that derived from the Greek, Latin, and Christian traditions.

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This emphasis on the oneness of everything is part and parcel of Zhu’s and Neo-­ Confucian’s search for the ultimate guide to the meaning and art of life. The world is highly complex, so the wise and virtuous person should only follow the highest principle of both the mind and nature. As long as one follows the underlying principle of everything, taiji, one can deal with things in the best way. Taiji “divides itself” into the principles of yin and yang, the Five Phases, and the myriad things, and can be seen everywhere. Only by following the ultimate and universal principle can one deal with all things in a perfect way. The oneness of this world, represented by taiji and qi, provides the foundation of a philosophy that emphasizes the oneness of the family, community, nation, and everything under heaven. It also provides the possibility of achieving the highest stage of the meaning and art of life. Since the world is one, as long as one follows its basic principles, one can be sure of finding the meaning of life. The idea of taiji also serves as the best guide to life. One who can always follow taiji is regarded as a sage or “whole man.”

3 Cyclic Evolution The way in which the principles of yinyang and the Five Phases come together in the principle of oneness suggests the significance of the idea of cyclic evolution in the Neo-Confucian worldview. To Zhu Xi, when one looks at this world, one can easily find that heaven and earth, the four seasons, day and night, and the sun and moon are the most important phenomena of the world and provide direct evidence of the principles of yinyang and the Five Phases. Since everything under heaven is governed by the four seasons, day and night, sun and moon, the world evolves cyclically. At the same time, the process by which all life forms proceed from birth to death echoes the movement of the four seasons. In this process, the older generation will eventually die, but their descendants will carry on this cyclical process. Male and female, being the very basis of the continuity of life, are clearly a representation of the principle of yinyang. Therefore, we can see why and how in Zhu’s worldview everything is governed by yinyang and the Five Phases. Zhu asserted that everyone can see the principles of yinyang and the Five Phases at work in movement and rest, expansion and contraction, and motion to and fro. Considered separately, yin and yang each describes one basic aspect of the world; together, they constitute its underlying principle. This is a “process philosophy” that emphasizes the eternal cyclic evolution of all things.16 The world is creative in that  John H. Berthrong, a Whiteheadian, discovered that “process thought, because of its emphasis on creativity within a relational or organic worldview as a form of creative synthesis, was definitely a leading candidate” for “constructing a bridge to the East” (Berthrong 1994: viii). He is not the only scholar in the West who adopts this view, and I am very much with this approach (Wu 1996). However, in doing so, we must take Yin/Yang as the two basic characteristics or forces of Confucian 16

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it never stops giving birth to new things, but at the same time it permits the old to disperse to leave room for the new. The idea of cyclic evolution makes Zhu’s worldview a kind of evolutionary philosophy that repeats that same pattern and centered on the concept of “becoming,” a worldview fundamentally at odds with the tradition of Western philosophy based on the idea of being. Concerning the origin and evolution of the world, Zhu Xi believes that in the beginning only a massive agglomeration of rotating qi existed. Everything we see today, including heaven, earth, sun, moon, and stars, evolved from this revolving mass. Pure and light qi became heaven, while its heavy and condensed form became earth. The ever-moving Heaven stands for Yang, while the fxed and still earth stands for Yin. For Zhu, movement and stillness, or yang and yin, are the basic cosmic principles that govern the way heaven, earth, sun, moon, mankind, and all else (Zhu 1970: [1] 6). From a modern point of view, there seems to be some similarity between this rudimentary cosmology and theory of evolution, formed 800  years ago, and the perspective of modern science that views the cosmos as a dynamic equilibrium of expanding forces, such as energy and repulsive electromagnetic forces, and contracting forces, such as gravity and strong interaction. Zhu Xi believed that water (also a symbol of “senior yin” that represents precipitation and contraction) and fre (a symbol of “senior yang” that represents agitation and extension) are the only two elements/phases that preexisted heaven and earth, and he described how hard land emerged from “soft” elements. The heavier parts of the earth formed waves under their infuence and eventually condensed into mountains, while they were covered by water in ancient times, which is why we can fnd shells among the mountains today. Zhu Xi also used an evolutionary view to interpret the origin of man and other living things. He believed that the universe, an enormous agglomeration of matter/energy, continually rotates and evolves, and that all “creatures” including man are formed within this huge revolving, evolving, and turbulent mass of qi, a process he compared to lice emerging from a human body or grains scattering from a huge grinder (Zhu 1970: [98] 2507, [1] 6). Zhu Xi saw the cosmos as a concentration of qi without categorical difference between vital and material or organic and inorganic. As a result, there was nothing unusual to him about the formation of life from this huge revolving cluster of qi. To Zhu, cyclic evolution not only refects the changes in the world, but also governs those changes. Day and night alternate, crescent moon changes to full, spring comes and goes, and people are born and die. Furthermore, yin and yang are layered upon one another, much as a day’s change is enclosed in a month’s, and a month’s in a year’s. Using this chain of associations, Zhu, following the example of earlier Yijing 易經 (Book of Changes) scholars, argued that the cyclic evolution is the basic rule of this world and an effective tool for interpreting human history. process philosophy. In this sense, we must add Yin/Yang principle into the Whiteheadian process and organismic philosophy so as to interpret the basic characteristics of Zhu Xi’s thought and the Chinese intellectual tradition properly.

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Zhu believed that during the time of the ancient sage-kings, the qi, or the constitution and quality of things, was highly pure and positive, but afterwards it became increasingly impure and negative, with the result that sage-kings no longer appeared in the world. This process of deterioration will continue until moral principles no longer exist among human beings, heaven and earth become chaotic again, and everything collapses, setting the stage for a new beginning.17 This is the largest-­ scale cycle, but within it there are numerous smaller cycles. For example, the founding of the Song dynasty and the subsequent era of order was born out of the chaos of the Five Dynasties. Zhu Xi believed that everything in the world belongs to this multi-level cyclic evolution, and that everything is in a process of change. “Becoming,” therefore, represents the basic characteristic of his worldview. According to the Book of Changes, everything under heaven is governed by the evolving and changing power of yin and yang. This is a worldview centered on the idea of “becoming,” a worldview fundamentally different from Western philosophical systems based on definite and unvarying concepts like being, substance, essence, and form (Zhu 1970: [27] 671, [137] 3261). This fundamental difference led to very different paths of development for Chinese and Western philosophy and culture. In the last part of this chap. I will demonstrate that for Zhu Xi “principle” is in fact built on an evolutionary philosophy, rather than a transcendent idea or form, and is a description of the natural path of changes that the universe experiences over time. For Zhu, in a cyclically evolving world, the most important thing is to follow the rhythm of heaven and earth, the four seasons, day and night, and to be aware of the cyclical pattern of life, family, politics, and history. To him, the eternal dominance of yang, or the original energy (positive qi), is the true meaning or “command” of the cosmos and the authentic representation of the “life power” of the universe. The creation and prosperity of all things were made possible by the openness, broadness, and flexibility of an evolutionary heaven and earth. One always has to retrieve the “original energy” and follow the “flow” of the yinyang principle all the time in such activities of daily life as breathing, speaking, and walking. Since this natural back-and-forth rhythm of yinyang represents the ultimate complimentary principle, it means no matter what we say or what we do, it always has a complimentary context or background to it. That’s why things always change with time and place. We should always keep in mind that the “principle/grain” Zhu emphasized, is that of the world of the Yijing, by itself a cyclically evolving world dominated by the principle of yinyang.  Zhu Xi said: “In the early ancient, the purest qi of heaven and earth gave birth to the sage kings who then ruled the world and enjoy wealth and prestige. In later years, things were quite different. . . . those who embodied the pure qi often died early while those who were violent and aggressive often became lofty” (Zhu 1970: [4] 127). When student asked: “Will Heaven and Earth be ruined?” Zhu Xi’s reply was: “They will not be ruined. When, in the future, human beings are totally bereft of the proper way then they will all be crushed together, and then there will be a period of chaos in which human beings and other creatures are totally eliminated, then they will arise once more” (Zhu 1970: [1] 8–9, adapted from Patrick Edwin Moran’s translation, http://users.wfu.edu/moran/ zzyl.01.38.html, 2018/3/10). 17

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4 Organicism Scholars have pointed out that Zhu Xi was an organicist, but we are still in want of a good interpretation of his organismic thought.18 Zhu’s idea of organicism came from careful observation of the entire universe, starting with the nearest and most visible things in this world. Zhu saw this world as teeming with life that shares a common origin and a common nature. Due to his holistic mode of thinking and this-­ worldly monism, this world naturally appeared to him as an “organismic” unit. In Zhu’s view, the world itself is sentient to the extent that heaven and earth have perception and mind, and will respond to man directly on very unusual occasions (Zhu 1970: [1] 7). However, the most important thing for Zhu remained the discovery of the basic principles of the world. When explaining this enlivened world, he placed his emphasis, not on heaven and earth’s life or mind, but on such general organismic ideas as the principle of ceaseless vitality/energy (sheng-sheng 生生) and the principle of the unity of heaven and man (tian ren he yi 天人合一).19 Since this world is filled with all kinds of life, Zhu develops an “organismic” worldview based on his monistic conception of qi. Furthermore, he often uses the organizational and operative principles of living things to explain how human life, the myriad things, and the cosmos work. However, instead of regarding the cosmos as a living creature that can express joy and anger like some primitive cultures do, his organismic worldview represents a highly sophisticated and “rationalized” system of thought. The first and most important part of his organismic worldview is that the ceaseless vitality/energy constitutes the basic substance of everything. From his observation of the vigor and abundance of life and the cyclic rise and fall of the four seasons, Zhu maintained that heaven and earth are but a “wholly prolific qi” (hunran zhshi yige fasheng zhi qi 渾然只是一箇發生之氣) (Zhu 1970: [95] 2416). Without birth, there can be nothing called death. This is precisely the starting point of his organismic worldview. In his writings, the elements of the four seasons (spring, summer, autumn, and winter), the four stages (Creation, Growth, Maturity, Storing), the four phases (wood, water, fire, and earth), the four principles (benevolence, propriety, righteousness, and wisdom), and four stages of yin and yang always correspond to each other (Zhu 1970 [95]: 2416–17). For Zhu Xi, they all belong to the same cosmic and fundamental principle of life: the ceaseless and spontaneous “life circle” of the cosmos. This cosmic circle begins with the “life intent” (shengyi 生意), which serves as the basis for all principles, the ultimate criterion for everything. The Confucian tradition always regards benevolence as the highest principle, and Zhu unites the idea of benevolence with the ideas of spring, yang, and life intent. Benevolence, propriety, righteousness, and wisdom, like spring, summer, autumn, and winter, are  Needham pointed out that Zhu Xi was an organicist, but he did not explain why. He simply believed that Zhu inherited the traditional organismic and relational mode of thinking (Needham 1954, vol. 2: 461–85). 19  Zhu makes no real distinction between sentient beings and lifeless things, so he is not a vitalist. 18

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the four most important principles in Zhu’s work. Here Zhu Xi notes that the essence of these four principles is merely the “life intent” (Zhu 1970: [95] 2416). As an embodiment of the “life intent,” these principles can be seen not only in man’s life, but also in everything under heaven. The life intent thus unites heaven and man. The organismic principle of the cosmos not only expresses itself in the ceaseless life intent but also in the belief that heaven and man are identical in principle. To Zhu, the rise and fall of the qi of heaven and earth resembles the inhalation and exhalation of man’s breath (Zhu 1970: [95] 2437). This “inhalation and exhalation” of qi is the necessary condition for the “life” of both the cosmos and human being. Thus Zhu maintained that just as exhaled air always differs from inhaled air, so the qi of newly created objects in the cosmos is never the same as that of old. This process of creation and change always characterizes the “breathing” both of man and the universe. Exhalation is yang, inhalation yin; the rising of the sun or moon is yang, the setting of the sun or moon yin. The qi that enters and leaves our body is the same kind as that in heaven and earth. This movement of qi to and fro in heaven and earth makes all creation possible and transcends the distinction between organic and inorganic matter. At the same time, the existence of humans in this universe of qi also resembles that of fish in water; water leaves and enters the fish just as qi enters and leaves the human body. Following Zhang Zai, Zhu therefore maintained that “whatever fills heaven and earth is my body; the bearing of heaven and earth is my nature.”20 Based on an organismic worldview, this concept of “one body” for all things, or the unity of heaven and man represents the crux of Neo-Confucian thought. Zhu used the human body as a metaphor for understanding heaven and earth as a larger organism. Each part of the human body responds to the others directly and promptly, as does everything in the universe on a macrocosmic scale; this is called the principle of “taiji” (ganying 感應). Just as humans have perception and mind, so too, the cosmos seems to possess both faculties. Zhu cites a story about Emperor Yuan of the Jin dynasty to demonstrate that heaven can perceive injustice in the human world and issue a warning through unusual phenomena (Zhu 1970: [64] 1575). Zhu believed that mountains, rivers, heaven, and earth have a kind of “spirit/ consciousness” (ling 靈) that responds to human behavior or error, and he approved of ancient forms of ritual sacrifice to these entities (Zhu 1970: [90] 2292). He also believed that fortune telling involving the use of milfoil or tortoise shells is able to reveal good or bad omens (Zhu 1999: 7–10). If the diviner has the utmost sincerity, he would, like a sage, be able to perceive subtle changes in the world because his mind/heart is so clear and sensitive that nothing can escape his notice. However, Zhu maintained that all these extraordinary phenomena only involve the direct response of the impersonal qi, rather than that of personified deities or spirits (Zhu 1970: [60] 1426, [136] 3241). To Zhu Xi, the enlivened cosmos is not a personified being, but a realm in which qi’s “inductance” seems to possess perception, mind, and the ability to act. In addition, he conceived man as the heart of heaven and earth, the most sensitive and 20

 A phrase coming from Zhang Zai’s Correcting Youthful Ignorance (Zhengmeng 正蒙), vol. 17.

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discerning of all organs (Zhu 1970: [45] 1165, [64] 1575). Zhu suggests that the most sensitive and discerning part of qi resides within human beings. Human kind thus serves as the representative for the cosmos, the key to all creation, without which the cosmos would lack basic standards or criteria. In sum, Zhu saw heaven and earth as a large organism and mankind as the heart of this entity. If this heart is corrupt, the world will be re-created through cataclysm. This is an organismic worldview that is highly different from the modern materialistic and mechanistic perspective. His organicism resembles vitalism in a certain way, but his idea of qi is a monistic concept that transcends the opposition between vitalism and mechanism. Human beings, the myriad things, qi, yin and yang, the Five Phases, and heaven and earth—all are enlivened and respond to each other directly, just like parts of the human body. Therefore, Zhu’s theory of cosmic principle is actually a set of organismic principles that describe the organization, changes, and inter-correspondence of the enlivened cosmos and human beings. This is why Zhu never discussed humanities without nature in mind, and vice versa. This kind of pre-Enlightenment but non-religious worldview put the human being at the heart of the universe. When one adopts this kind of worldview, one will naturally have a very high regard for the human being’s responsibility and meaning in this world. Since human beings and the universe are one, one should certainly follow the cosmic principles so as to realize the highest possible meaning and art of life. This is, according to Zhu, something ordained by the cosmos and innate in oneself.

5 Cosmic Principle Zhu’s belief in “cosmic principle/grain” (tian li 天理) is the most important characteristic of his worldview, and also the most controversial. According to my previous analysis, since Zhu’s theory of principle is rooted in the concept of “this-worldly” monism, we cannot identify it as a “traditional metaphysical theory,” as many modern scholars have assumed.21 The principle he discusses is not transcendent Being or a Form from which everything else is derived, but a description of the underlying rules of the cosmic process. In other words, it is basically a cosmology rather than a concrete description of the substance or essence of the world. For Zhu, principle merely represents the path or “pattern” of the cyclical cosmic process, or the natural rule underlying change. Since this principle is everywhere and underlies everything in the universe, Zhu called it “cosmic principle.” He did not see principle as something transcendent, but instead as “natural rule” that manifests itself in qi (matter/energy). In essence, principle embodies the natural rule underlying the Five Phases and the inner logic of yinyang and the evolution of myriad of things. If we want to understand Zhu’s concept of cosmic principle, we need to first grasp the basic characteris “Traditional metaphysical theory” means the kind of scholarship that “studied ‘being as such’ or ‘the first causes of things’ or ‘things that do not change’” (van Inwagen and Sullivan 2014). 21

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tics of this world, especially the evolution of qi and the unity of yin and yang and the Five Phases. For Zhu, taiji 太極, the ultimate and original principle, or dao, was merely the “pattern” or “logic” of the cosmic process of yin and yang, without which taiji would not exist, since the original principle has no form or image in and of itself. Yin and yang represent the static and dynamic aspects of the same cosmic process, and Zhu introduced the idea of taiji to illustrate their inseparable unity. For Zhu, taiji embodies all cosmic principles, beginning with that of yin and yang (Zhu 1970: [94] 2368, [95] 2437–38). The cyclic and complimentary relationship between the two best represents their unity and the concepts of this-worldly monism and holism. Theoretically, Taiji, as the ultimate unity of all things, could be interpreted as principle, qi, or even an integrated state of both. In order to make things clear, Zhu simply chose to interpret taiji as principle. He drew a distinction between principle and qi, then, to distinguish practical existence from abstract concept and to compensate for the inability of yin and yang to express the unity of a monist universe. Thus, only this single and original principle containing both yin and yang can serve as the highest unity (Zhu 1970 [95] 2437, 1967, vol. 1). If we take taiji as the origin of everything, like many modern scholars did, this will certainly have most serious consequence. However, for Zhu Xi, taiji or the principle/pattern, is mainly a description of the regularity or pattern of things. Therefore, it is not the kind of ontological or metaphysical notions in traditional Western philosophy. We must keep in mind that Zhu never discussed principle/ pattern without yin and yang, or concrete existence, and the priority he gave to principle is only a theoretical one. Overemphasis on the notion that principle/pattern preexists qi, then, can cause serious misunderstanding. Zhu viewed the world as undergoing an eternal process of cyclic evolution; qi sometimes amasses, sometimes disperses, but principle remains the same. Although, according to some of his sayings, principle “preexists” qi (li xian qi hou 理先氣後), this “preexistence” is anything but ontological existence, since principle and qi always co-exist. Moreover, since li, the principle/grain, only represents the path or pattern of qi’s changes, strictly speaking, there is no such thing as the logical or chronological preexistence of li to qi. The origin of all principles is the same principle that represents the basic unity and “pattern” of this monistic world and is ceaselessly active, cyclic and dynamic in essence. Nevertheless, not everyone can fully express this vigorous, munificent “life intent.” Constrained by one’s disposition, every individual has some flaws that conceal different aspects of this principle. Though limited by flaws and disposition, every person was created by the cosmos, and hence can never completely lose the “life intent” and cosmic principle. Thus the human heart/mind, a kind of qi, is like a seed that does not necessarily grow perfectly but will definitely struggle to mature as well as possible. This ardent desire to grow and develop is inherent in human nature and is the principle of behavior called “benevolence,” or the essential “life intent” of the cosmos that represents the fundamental principle of cosmic process (Zhu 1970: [94] 2374, 2379, [95] 2419).

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Traditionally, there were two major Neo-Confucian schools; one emphasizes the priority of qi and the other of Li (principle), although both accept the inseparability of qi and principle. The first can be classified as the Qi school, the latter the Li or Xing-Li 性理 (Nature/Principle) school. Zhang Zai, Lu Xiangshan 陸象山, Wang Yangming 王陽明, and Wang Fuzhi 王夫之 represent the Qi School, while Cheng Yi and Zhu adhere to the doctrines of the Xing-Li 性理 School.22 Historically speaking, both the Qi and Xing-Li schools share the worldview of this-worldly monism, cyclic evolution, and organicism, and both believe in the crucial role of qi in the formation and operation of the world. What, then, is the real difference between the two? I would argue that the distinction lies in the concern of the former with “the principle of qi,” or phenomenon, while Zhu’s theory embodies not only the “principle of phenomenon” but also the “original principle” of the entire cosmos. To Zhu, these two levels of principle constituted an integrated system, and he thus usually applies the same word principle/grain (li) to both. But scholars from other schools tended to deny his doctrine of the “original principle” and adhered instead to the principles they found in a phenomenal world. As a result, they acknowledged Zhu’s erudition and integrity, but they refused to accept his conception of the priority of the ultimate or original principle, which served as the basis of his theory of cosmic principle. Zhu often argued that there could be no qi without principle and vice versa. To this point, his conception remains compatible with the Qi school’s doctrine that “principle is within qi” (li zai qi zhong 理在氣中), or the unity of principle and qi. Nevertheless, Zhu Xi’s notion of principle refers not only to the principle within qi, or phenomenon, but also to the original and highest principle of the entire cosmos. For Zhu, the principle of phenomenon arises from the original principle, and the two remain inseparable; therefore, Zhu often used the same word “principle” without distinction when discussing them. The blurring of these two levels of meaning has confused many scholars. Since the cosmos gives birth to everything through a monist qi, there can only be one principle for all of creation. However, the nature of each thing is so very different that we cannot deny the existence of individual character or disposition. The same original principle manifested differently in each individual is expressed in Zhu’s aphorism “principle is one, its manifestations are many” (li yi fen shu 理一分 殊). Since Zhu did not believe in another transcendent realm, original principle exists nowhere but inside the myriad things of this world. This is why Zhu always emphasized the importance of investigating the principle of things in the phenomenal world before trying to define the fundamental and original principle of the cosmos. Since the principle of phenomenon must arise from original principle, Zhu did not distinguish the two but instead called them both principle in general. Nevertheless, Zhu’s distinction between human mind/heart (renxin 人心) and the  Heart-mind (xin 心) is something really exists. Everything really exists, according to Zhu Xi and Neo-Confucian tradition, belongs to qi. Therefore, Lu–Wang’s Heart-mind school, contrary to many modern, especially some materialist, scholars’ opinion, should also be classified as Qi school. 22

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original mind/heart (benxin 本心), or the distinction between “dispositional nature” (qizhi zhi xing 氣質之性) and “heavenly nature” (tiandi zhi xing 天地之性), clearly expresses the difference between the two. Traditionally, Qi school scholars who asserted that the cosmos consists of nothing but qi opposed the idea of the existence of any principles apart from concrete phenomena. They contended that “principle should be within qi” and that dao cannot be separated from the media through which it is expressed. Scholars since Qing dynasty, like Wang Fuzhi, Dai zhen 戴震, Hu Shih 胡適, and modern materialists, in particular tend to criticize Neo-Confucianism for discussing “metaphysical” things that Confucius refused to examine, and for their receptivity to elements of Buddhist and Daoist thought, especially an “unspeakable essence” (ti 體). In contrast, they claimed that we should discuss concrete knowledge and return to the practical affairs of human relations. Their approach is helpful, however, only in interpreting the principles of the phenomenal world. While they have freed themselves of the vestiges of past intellectual tradition, contemporary Chinese scholars have begun to realize the difficulty in establishing a value system without an overarching set of basic principles. According to the modern materialist perspective, original cosmic principles consist of nothing but fundamental physical laws and possess little ethical content. In contrast, Zhu’s organismic and holistic worldview unites mind and matter. As a result, the original principle of Zhu’s world imbues life with a powerful meaning and can serve as the foundation of a persuasive ethical system. Within the Confucian, Buddhist, and Daoist traditions, acquired habits result in the loss of man’s original goodness and produce all of life’s problems; Zhu’s theory of original principle shares this belief.

6 On the Formation of World Order We can use what we have found to examine the most important recent debate in the study of Neo-Confucianism about the formation of world order, which was largely triggered by Yu Yingshi’s 余英時 treatise Zhu’s Historical World (Zhuxi de lishi shijie 朱熹的歷史世界) (Yu 2003). Yu believes that Zhu’s ideas on natural order arose from his concern with an ideal socio-political order, inseparable from his own historical situation, which he transposed to the level of metaphysics and cosmology, while some scholars, like Yang Rubin 楊儒賓 and Liu Shuxian 劉述先, vehemently attacked Yu for neglecting the metaphysical or transcendent aspect of Zhu’s thought (Yang 2003; Liu 2003). Since Zhu held a holistic world view and way of thinking, and basically regarded all phenomena as an inseparable whole, it is clear that Zhu’s understanding of principle and essence can in no way be seen as a form of world-transcending metaphysics or mysticism. Nevertheless, at the same time, it is also incorrect to say that his ideas on world order were derived solely from his

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concern with an ideal “secular” or “human” order based on his own socio-political experience. According to my previous analysis of Zhu’s worldview, he simply understood the order of humanity, the “secular” world, the mind, and the universe as forming an integrated and symbiotic whole, in which there is no clear demarcation between inner and outer, subject and object, or heaven and human. His theory of order certainly did not arise out of thin air, unrelated to his personal background and the era in which he lived; yet it is not without a certain universality and timelessness. To be sure, if a single aspect of Zhu’s thought, say, universality or the “secular” socio-­ political order is abstracted from his holistic worldview and analyzed individually, deficiencies will surely be found. Thus, rather than saying that Zhu was mainly concerned with the order of human society, it would be better to say that he was focused on a type of universal order which includes all of the levels mentioned above. Two of the basic principles upon which Zhu Xi’s universal order was constructed are “the oneness of heaven and humanity (tianren heyi 天人合一)” and “the organic unity of all things (wanwu yiti 萬物一體),” according to which human culture is a part of the natural order of heaven and earth. Thus the proper ordering of human society must necessarily conform to “natural law” (the way of heaven). Echoing Cheng Yi’s aphorism “Never has there been a man who has fulfilled humanity, but not fulfilled what heaven (has endowed on him),” Zhu advocated “the oneness of heaven and humanity” (Cheng and Cheng 1986, vol. 1: 2). In Zhu’s understanding of universal order, one and the same principle governs the cosmos, nature, body, mind, family, politics, and society. As made clear in his most representative essay, “Appended Remarks on the Investigation of Things (Gewu buzhuan 格物補傳),” his system of thought is an integrated whole in which such poles as heaven and earth and inner and outer coexist in an organic unity. This is a holistic way of thinking in which individual elements cannot be fully understood in isolation from one another, and which is deeply informed by a worldview that emphasizes the vitality and organic unity of all things. In this type of worldview and way of thinking there is an intimate connection between “natural law” and the order of human society. Thus the ordering of society and politics is not merely a human affair, but also has cosmic significance, as reflected in the Neo-­Confucian motto “Bring about the ‘mind/heart’ of heaven and earth; normalize the life of the people” (wei tiandi li xin, wei shengmin li ming 為天地立心, 為生民立命). For the Cheng–Zhu school of Neo-Confucianism, such polarities as universal and particular, essence and phenomena (substance), and heaven and human are linked in a particular way that can be expressed in the aphorism “principle is one, its manifestations are many.” From this point of view, there exist many different socio-­ political issues, but they are all governed by the same principle, which is consistent and can only be found in the actual affairs of society and all the details of daily life. Thus for Neo-Confucianism, engaging in worldly affairs not only constitutes no impediment to the search for a consistent principle, but is actually an essential part of seeking the Way. From this perspective, deep involvement in the “phenomena” of social and political reform plays an integral role in the Neo-Confucian system of thought. Nonetheless, this does not mean that Neo-Confucianism is primarily

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c­ oncerned with the order of the human world. On the contrary, we find that whatever issue Zhu was focused on, whether it had to do with the human or natural world, he always linked it up with the idea of a single principle connecting the cosmos and humanity. As such, the first-order question of Neo-Confucianism is not so much the establishment of human order, as it is penetrating the unitary principle that encompasses the order of both humanity and the universe, like taiji, yinyang and Five Phases. This search for a consistent unifying principle amongst all that exists in both the human and natural world is the essence of the Neo-Confucian practice of “investigating the principle of things in the phenomenal world.” The three pillars of Zhu’s understanding of cosmic order are: (1) the idea that human being is an integral part of nature; (2) the non-duality of essence and function; and (3) giving full attention to both inner and outer, all coming from his worldly monism and an organismic worldview.23

7 Conclusion Zhu integrated this-worldly monism with the ideas of holism, naturalism, and naturalized deities, and ghosts, as well as his theory that everything is an inseparable unity and originates from the same dynamic element—qi. From this thisworldly monism also emerged Zhu Xi’s doctrine of the unity of the sacred and secular, nature and the humanities, mind and matter, yin and yang, and the Five Phases. Zhu’s theory of cyclic evolution implies a worldview of “becoming,” a process philosophy that included a belief in equilibrated tenets, the cyclic evolution of yin and yang and the Five Phases, and the spontaneity of evolution and creation. His doctrine of organicism implies a kind of “life philosophy,” the notion that everything is part of one body, as well as the “inductance” between things. It also leads to the idea of the unity of nature and human, and the existence of the “mind” of heaven and earth. His belief in “cosmic principle/grain” entails disenchantment, rationalization, a return to basic principle, and the inherent wisdom of humanity and the cosmos. It also asserts the inseparability of principle and qi, the idea that heaven is principle, that “nature/essence (xing 性)” is principle, and that Supreme Ultimate (taiji) is nothing but principle. And it also comes with the idea of the oneness of all the principles and the insistence on the priority of principle over qi. To sum up, Zhu sees the world as an organic entity that evolves according to cosmic principles/grain in a cyclic way. Without a proper understanding of this worldview, modern scholars will easily misinterpret his thought from the perspective of a fundamentally different and basically modern western worldview.  For a thorough discussion of this issue, please see Wu Chan-liang, “The Organizing Principle of Zhu Xi’s Perception of the Order of the World (Zhuzi de shijie zhixuguan zhi zucheng fangshi 朱子的世界秩序觀之組成方式)” (Wu 2007).

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References Berthrong, John H. 1994. Concerning Creativity: A Comparison of Chu Hsi, Whitehead, and Neville. Albany: State University of New York Press. (A nice comparative study of Chu Hsi, Whitehead, and Neville’s philosophy with focus on the issue of creativity.) Chang, Kwang-chih 張光直. 1986. “Continuity and Break 連續與破裂.” Jiuzhou Xuekan 九州 學刊 1.1: 1–8. Chen, Lai 陳來. 1987. A Study of Zhu Xi s Philosophy 朱熹哲學研究. Beijing 北京: Zhongguo shehui kexue chubanshe 中國社會科學出版社. (A famous study of Zhu Xi’s philosophy with focus on the development of some of Zhu’s basic philosophical concepts.) Cheng, Hao 程顥, and Cheng Yi 程頤. 1986. Selected Words of Cheng Brothers 二程粹言. Wenyuange Complete Library of the Four Treasures 文淵閣四庫全書. Taipei 臺北: Taiwan shangwu yinshuguan 臺灣商務印書館. Feng, Youlan 馮友蘭. 1991. A New History of Chinese Philosophy 中國哲學史新編. Taipei 臺 北: Landeng wenhua shiye gongsi 藍燈文化事業公司. (A complete revision of Feng’s earlier book—History of Chinese Philosophy.) ———. 2000. History of Chinese Philosophy 中國哲學史. In Sansong Tang Quanji 三松堂全集. Zhengzhou 鄭州: Henan renmin chubanshe 河南人民出版社. (A most famous and influential study of the history of Chinese philosophy.) Heidegger, Martin. 1976. “The Age of Worldview.” Translated by Marjorie Grene. Boundary 2, 4.2: 340–355. Jin, Chunfeng 金春峰. 1998. Zhu Xi’s Philosophical Thought 朱熹哲學思想. Taipei 臺北: Dongda tushu gongsi 東大圖書公司. (A nice survey of Zhu Xi’s Philosophical Thought.) Liu, Shuxian 劉述先. 2003. “On Yu Yingshi’s Zhu Xi’s Historical World: A Study of the Political Culture of the Scholar-Officials in the Song Dynasty 評余英時《朱熹的歷史世界:宋代士大 夫政治文化的研究》.” Chinese Culture Quarterly 九州學林 1.2: 316–334. Lovejoy, Arthur. 1978. The Great Chain of Being. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Mote, Frederick W. 1971. Intellectual Foundations of China. New York: Knopf. (A highly insightful and probably the best short introduction to the philosophical and intellectual tradition of China.) Mou, Zongsan 牟宗三. 1968. The Essence of Mind/Heart and The Essence of Nature 心體與性體, 3 vols. Taipei 臺北: Zhengzhong shuju 正中書局. (A most famous study of Zhu Xi and Song Neo-Confucians’ philosophy.) Needham, Joseph. 1954. Science and Civilization in China, vol. 2. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. (A very good and insightful introduction to the philosophical tradition of China.) Qian, Mu 錢穆. 1987. Wangxue Mangyan 晚學盲言. Taipei 臺北: Dongda tushu 東大圖書. (A nice collection of highly insightful reflections on the nature of Chinese thought and culture.) ———. 1995. The Integrated General Meaning of Chinese Scholarship 中國學術通義. Taipei 臺 北: lianjing chuban shiye gongsi 聯經出版事業公司. (A most erudite and penetrating introduction of the nature and meaning of traditional Chinese Scholarship.) van Inwagen, Peter, and Meghan Sullivan. 2014. “Metaphysics.” Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy. First published Sept. 10, 2007; substantive revision Oct. 31, 2014. https://plato. stanford.edu/entries/metaphysics/ Wu, Chan-liang 吳展良. 1996. “The Cosmo-ontological View of Becoming in Ancient Chinese Taoism.” Historical Inquiry 臺大歷史學報 19: 259–289. ———. 2007. “The Organizing Principle of Zhu Xi’s Perception of the Order of the World 朱子 的世界秩序觀之組成方式.” Chinese Culture Quarterly 九州學林 5.3: 2–34. ———. 2008. “The Basic Characteristics of Zhu Xi’s Worldview 朱子世界觀體系的基本特質.” Humanitas Taiwanica 臺大文史哲學報 68: 135–167. ———. 2013. “Zhu Xi’s Theory of Ghosts and Deities 朱子之鬼神論述義.” Chinese Studies 漢 學研究 31.4: 111–144.

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Yang, Rubing 楊儒賓. 2003. “If Revolving the ‘Copernican Turn’ Once More—On Yu Yingshi’s Zhu Xi’s Historical World: A Study of the Political Culture of the Scholar-Officials in the Song Dynasty 如果再迴轉一次「哥白尼的迴轉」:讀余英時先生的《朱熹的歷史世界:宋代士 大夫政治文化的研究》.” Dangdai 當代 195: 125–141. Yu, Yingshi 余英時. 2003. Zhu’s Historical World: A Study of the Political Culture of the Scholar-­ Officials in the Song Dynasty 朱熹的歷史世界:宋代士大夫政治文化的研究. Taipei 臺北: Yunchen wenhua 允晨文化. (A most famous work on Zhu Xi’s political and historical ground that inquire deeply into Song dynasty’s political culture of the scholar-officials.) Zhu, Xi 朱熹. 1967. Reflections on Things at Hand 近思錄. Taipei 臺北: Guangwen yinshuguan 廣文印書館. ———. 1970. Assorted Words of Zhu Xi 朱子語類. Taipei 臺北: Zhengzhong shuju 正中書局. ———. 1999. The Original Meaning of Zhou Yi 周易本義. Taipei 臺北: Daan chubanshe 大安 出版社. Chan-liang Wu is a professor of history at the National Taiwan University. His field of speciality lies mainly in modern Chinese and Sung Dynasty intellectual history, and is especially interested in the cultural foundations of the national building of China, together with the fundamental problems involved in the meeting of China and the West.  

Chapter 26

Zhu Xi and Confucian Environmental Ethics Shui Chuen Lee

1  Introduction When pollution problem surfaced in the 50s of the twentieth century in the West, professionals were made aware that modern development is not something that we could pursuit relentlessly forever (Carson 1962). It was a signal that after 300 years of modernization, pollution has become a serious threat to human survival and development. Environmental ethics was conceived as an ethics for survival (Potter 1970).1 It is ironic that after half a century, the problem becomes a real matter of survival not only for human beings but also for all the species on Earth. Environmental degradation, development, and sustainability have been hot issues of environmental ethics. The problem is not just that we are soon to be out of resources to use any more. It is now a much greater threat that we have triggered a huge global and devastating change, namely global warming, that would lead to the total destruction of all living things now on Earth. The emerging phenomena of unprecedented violent climate changes become more and more damaging: global floods and wild fires, I am grateful to Professor Jennifer Liu in styling and polishing the paper so that it is much better readable in its present form.  When environmental issues surfaced in the late 60s of the twentieth century, environmental scholars first used the label “bioethics” for environmental studies and meant it a “science for survival,” though this term is later borrowed by bioethicists for their use. It is ironical that after half a century, environmental issues come back again as issues that seriously endanger not only the existence of many species, but finally our own existence. Professionals of anthropology have denoted the present era as Anthropocene indicating the grand geological change could be effected by human beings. Pollution and global warming are the result of human activities.

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extreme storms, and most important of all, the possibility that huge volume of deadly gases buried deep down in glaciers will be released and would turn the atmosphere into a poisonous gas chamber, practically killing every living thing on Earth. What is worse is that we are running out of time and we may not be able to turn it back any more. Hence, even if we realize the problem and its source, we still are far from being able to combat it. The short history of our efforts in preventing further deterioration internationally has been a disastrous failure. Our international collective effort and cooperation is slow and we have lost many good chances to curb the progress of global degeneration in the twentieth century. There are ample examples of such failure. A notoriously glaring example today is the problem of global warming. Scientists discovered the problems of climate change in the 70s with the depletion of the atmospheric ozone in the southern hemisphere, due to the widespread use of chlorofluorocarbons (CFCs), the international enterprises refused to accept and when it was confirmed in 1987, it was only in 1996 that the production stopped. It was well known that the bar for the Kyoto Protocol to be formally adopted as a universally binding treatise was very high, and though it did cross the bar at 2005, the USA still has not ratified it. The UN Panel of Intergovernmental Climate Change was set up in 1988, and the world’s leading professionals in climate change have released a series of important reports on climate changes, but we still get no real progress in combating our climate problems. This shows how big international enterprises and governments could resist to take their responsibilities. The problem of global warming meets the same fate and has been purposely led by the US government under George Bush Jr. to reject the fact of global warming, just because to do anything to reduce related GHG release will cause burden to such international companies and industries and most of them are registered and controlled by US capitalists. After more than 20  years of negotiations and compromises, the Paris Agreement was finally passed in 2015 and ratified in 2017, yet the US president Donald Trump boldly refused to accept it when it becomes an internationally effective declaration! Their argument is that any restrictions on production that hurts their country and their people will not be acceptable. Lurking behind this are not only narrowly anthropocentric but also national or ethnic, selfish actions and objections. The ongoing deterioration of the environment and the brink of crossing the threshold of no return is proof of the grave problem facing us. Long before the issue of global warming comes to the stage, anthropocentrism has been the underlying principle of response. When developed countries in the West first realized and began to tackle the problem of pollution, what concerned them was not the deterioration of the environment or extinction of large number of species; rather, they cared more about how to reduce the effects of pollution on human life and living and development. The response by reconstruction, reservation, and preservation of polluted areas are all efforts to remedy to the surrounding areas for the sake of people without paying due respect to all the lives living in the habitat. The basic attitude is anthropocentric. It was not until the proposal of ecological ethics or ecosophy (Naess 1973; Devall and Sessions 1985) that environmental discussion began to pay attention not only to human beings but also the

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benefit or harm of those living things in the environment as a whole. However, the real turn beyond anthropocentrism comes only after the revival of the writings of Aldo Leopold of a Land Ethic (Leopold 1945; Callicott 1994) that people start to take seriously the holistic view of nature. But anthropocentric and national interests still represent the most significant reasons and motivation against international co-­ operation (Chasek et al. 2006). There is a diagnosis that the root of Western kind of development lies with Christian religion because the Bible has always been interpreted as allowing human beings to exploit the environment as much as necessary for better living (White 1998). Though Christian theology nowadays tries to interpret the passage as only conferring a stewardship rather than the power of domination to human being (Newton 2003), the priority of human interest is still very common in the Western world, especially in the most influential United State of American. It is usually concealed in the arguments of many who object to anti-pollution movements, especially those international enterprises and those politicians who depend on their financial support for re-election. International enterprises, most of them are American businesses, have been the defenders against any policy that requires no pollution or less pollution in production and they could lobby politicians and employ academic professionals to raise doubts on the truth of production pollutions and reject any such policy that may increase their production cost.2 It is a kind of anthropocentrism wrapped in other names, such as national interest, freedom of production, freedom of market, and so on. It is in fact a slogan manipulated by politicians and capitalists. Pollution has no border and very often the under-developed suffers the most. Hence the rejection of any form of anthropocentricism and the claim of national interests on the one hand, and the justification for a common future or holism on the other hand remain important and necessary for arriving at global co-operations to combat our common threats together (Brundtland 1987). What lies in the background of the environmental issues today is the conception of the relationship between human being and Nature and the account of our duties in environmental issues. The former regards how we configure the relationship of human beings with other species and existences as a whole and how it is unreasonable and in fact impossible to take human interest above and beyond all others in the environment. The second is about how to track the source of pollution and our duty as a whole to save the Earth and ourselves, as well as our future generations. In the  It is a common fact among environmentalists in global environment protection movements that capitalists and politicians have long been the powerful opponents against anti-pollution movement in the developed countries. Early in the international forum on the problem of air pollution in the world summit in Brazil, George Bush Sr., then the president of the USA, openly declared that any anti-pollution requirement that harms and touches the American way of living will be rejected. The interest of the common citizens becomes an excuse for countries not conforming and supporting the international effort to fight pollution. The anthropocentric interest is now even narrowed down to the interest of one’s own country in the detriments to other poor and dependent countries and vulnerable peoples. For a concise reference, please refer to Pamela S. Chasek, David L, Downie and Janet W. Brown, Global Environmental Politics, 4th edition (Boulder, Colo.: Westview Press, 2006), which listed 11 well-known environmental cases. 2

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old conception of the West, duty is viewed as personally related. Any infringement of others’ rights could and need be chased back to certain acts done by certain person in a particular space and time. However, as Leopold observed almost a century ago, this could not be applied to environmental issues, because, the pollution effects of an action were not clear and awareness may only come many years later (Leopold 1945). For instance, the global warming effect is due to the modernization process of the last 300 years or so, and many generations have been eclipsed before we realize it today. We could not account for who was responsible for all the damages that are happening now. The one to one model of responsibility cannot be applied to such a global scale of problems nor can it be solved in the old model of rights and punishment. The basic idea of individualism is precisely inadequate for such cross generational and cross border issues. Hence, we need a new model for accountability in environmental ethics. Different conceptions of the human–Nature relationship offer a different way of looking at the present environmental problems and give rise to a different proposal for its solution. Confucianism takes a very different view of the relationship between human being and Nature and has a very different ethics or environmental ethics from the West (Callicott 1994). Confucianism takes a different view on human development and the relationship with the environment and the ideal of a universal community beyond the interests of ethnic and national groups. It contains some important ideas that will lead us beyond the narrow conception of so-called national interest and anthropocentrism. As Zhu Xi is one of the most influential figures of Song–Ming Confucianism, his philosophy of life and conception of human–Nature relationship are sure to shed much light on environmental issues from the Confucian point of view. In the following, I shall first give a general picture of Zhu Xi’s conception of the relation between human being and Nature and its implications of our duty towards other living things. I then lay out his reflections on the important Confucian concept of ren 仁 (humanity) and expand it to cover a basic framework for a Confucian philosophy of ecology, and lastly how it could provide a different but viable proposal for the solution of our environmental problems.

2 Zhu Xi’s Ideas on the Relation Between Man, Earth, and Heaven Looking from the concerns of the understanding and development of a person, Confucianism is a philosophy of a person in three dimensions: with oneself, with others, with the Universe (Tang 1977). It has first a dimension that one relates to oneself in the inner sense. This is the core of Confucianism and is the foundation for the treatment towards others in the society and further upward towards Heaven and Earth. This first dimension is the theory for inner saintliness and concerns mainly the process of moral self-cultivation to be a virtuous man. It is then extended outward first towards fellow persons, forming a common living community, which is

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usually called the outer kingliness. The third dimension is the relation between human being and the Universe. It comprises the relation of human being and all things under Heaven (tiandi wanwu 天地萬物), which composes what we call environment today. The thread through the three kinds of relation is Dao 道 or Tianli 天理. The three realms are not independent of each other. They are closely knitted as one in Confucianism. Hence, in Confucianism, environmental ethics is an extension of what makes a moral person and his or her duties towards other things, living or non-­living under Heaven or in the Universe, or the environment as a whole. In Confucianism, the relation between human being and Nature is usually coined into the concepts of human being, Earth and Heaven with the latter two embodying what the term Nature usually is referring to. The human–nature relation is considered a part of the cosmological thinking of Confucianism which concerns the development or evolution of the Universe and the status and duty of human being in the Universe. For our present discussion, it is most significant to look for Zhu Xi’s distinction of li 理 (Principle or Reason) and qi 氣 (vital air or matter). The former is the cause or principle that sustains the existence and evolution of the Universe, the latter is the concrete and particular mode of existence of lives and matters, and the two are closely intertwined but distinct. These conceptions are expressed in the following sayings of Zhu Xi, 1. There is no qi 氣 (vital air or matter) without Principle (li 理) and no Principle without qi (matter). (Zhu 1983: 2) 2. Having the Principle, there will be the evolution and manifestation of qi. Principle is formless. (Zhu 1983: 1) 3. Principle is never separated with qi (matter). But, Principle is metaphysical (or above the form [xing er shang 形而上]) and matter is concrete (or below the form [xing er xia 形而下]). From the distinction of above and below form (or metaphysical and physical), how could there be no order of first and second (priority). Principle is formless and matter is coarse and has opacity. (Zhu 1983: 3) Since we have only one world, we need to draw the difference between individuals and particular things and their common principle or principles. Zhu Xi recognizes that the underlying principle or principles are what expressed in matter and nowhere else. Philosophers have to give an explanation of this relationship. Confucianism developed the relation as between qi 氣 (matter) and li 理 (principle) they are regarded respectively as “below form (xing er xia 形而下)” or that which has form and that which is “above form (xing er shang 形而上)” or formless, meaning that one is the principle of existence of the other and the other is a manifestation of the principle or principles, but the two is not separated physically or spatially. These sayings means that for things in the universe, all, including human beings, are endowed with the same and one Principle. This Principle is usually referred to as Dao, Taiji or Tian-Dao or li. Human beings and all other living or non-living things have the same one Principle (wuwu yi taiji 物物一太極, tongti yi taiji 統體一太極), so in terms of metaphysical or ontological status, there is no difference between human beings and other things. The Principle or Dao is our common root and what sustains our existence and endowed us with the same general values.

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However, each individual or species have different degrees of endowments with the Principle and qi (the vital air). These differences result in the distinction between human beings and other living things, across and within species. The creativity of the Principle is also referred to as the mind of Heaven and Earth (tiandi zhi xin 天 地之心), the meaning of this term will be analyzed further in the next section, here we only need to point out that the difference between species could be stated in terms of the degree to which each is endowed by the Principle: 4. Heaven and Earth bestows its mind (xin 心)3 in the ten-thousand things (wanwu 萬物): human beings receive it as the heart/mind (xin 心) of human beings; matters receive it as the heart/mind (xin 心) of matters; plants and animals receive it as the heart/mind (xin 心) of plants and animals. There is but one mind (xin 心) of Heaven and Earth. (Zhu 1983: 5) 5. Everything under Heaven, no matter how little or small, all have heart/minds, the only difference is whether they have locations of perception. For instance, a grass or tree, facing the yang (sunshine) will flourish, and facing the yin (with no sunshine) will be wan and sallow. This means that they have likes and dislikes. Heaven and Earth is the greatest, it produces infinite kind of things, evolving and circulating around never ending, forming the seasons and day and night, it looks like there is something positively working all along. Heaven and Earth naturally has a mind which works without mind (wuxin zhi xin 無心之心). (Zhu 1983: 60) 6. Everything also has the five elements like human being, but they have them in a lesser manner. (Zhu 1983: 56) 7. Yichuan (Cheng Yichuan) said it well, “the principle is one and differentiates into many (liyi fenshu 理一分殊).”4 Speaking of the whole universe, there is just one Principle, however when we said it about human being, each has his or her particular principle. (Zhu 1983: 2) Here, Zhu Xi explicitly states that everything under Heaven has not only the Principle as their xing 性 or heavenly endowed nature but also a heart/mind like human being. Of course, Zhu Xi is keen to make the difference between different

3  The Chinese term xin 心 usually referred to what human being is endowed with. However, Zhu Xi also talks about the xin 心 of the creative Heaven and Earth which referred to the creativity of Dao or Tian-li 天理. Zhu Xi is careful to make the distinction that the latter has no personal will or deliberations, or desire like that of a human being (Zhu 1983: 3). It is purely a metaphysical being, nothing personal and not anything like a personal God. So, I translate it as “mind” rather than “heart/mind.” The latter means there are personal choices and actions taking place. 4  Since Zhu Xi adopts Cheng Yi’s doctrine of liyi fenshu and ren is but one of the sub-principles under the one Principle. Hence, for Zhu Xi as well as Confucianism in general, ren is first a principle rather than a virtue. This is most obvious in Mencius, for he identifies ren as the first manifestation of the unbearable heart/mind (bu ren ren zhi xin 不忍人之心). Virtue is an achievement term. One could be said to achieve a virtue, say a virtue of ren, only after many practice of the principle of ren. Zhu Xi is sure to have the principle of ren inborn rather achieved later. Hence, I would regard Zhu Xi as well as Confucianism as a whole is not a kind of virtue ethics. With xing 性 (human nature) as the origin of morality, Confucianism is more akin to Kant’s autonomy ethics though there is still some important differences between the two.

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species that their endowment in matter is different. The variation lies with the quality of qi that the different species and individual receive. Human beings are endowed with the best of qi which is more or less light and transparent or clear and thus results in a heart/mind that is very active, perceptive, conscious and self-conscious, and morally creative, while other species would have different degrees of heaviness or opaqueness of qi and thus their heart/mind would have different degrees of function. This takes care of the difference between human beings and non-human beings and between monkeys and pigs, as well as between animal and plant and non-living things with the last as having so dense a kind of qi that no any trace of heart/mind seems to appear for them. There are also variations within species, hence some people are clever and others slow, some have better talents while others are dumb. However, members of the species of Homo sapiens are basically have a heart/mind that could penetrate the dense matter and shows stronger or weaker mental and moral functioning. What Zhu Xi said reflects the basic worldview of Confucianism, that is, the universe is holistic and ontologically one. Hence, it proves that Confucianism is not anthropocentric.5 For, it is through the objective observation that different species do show different capabilities and the conferring of different moral status is based on a common principle: the different degrees or levels of consciousness development and agentive capabilities. This is embedded in Confucian notion of the heart/ mind.6 The conferring of such a moral status also means that human being bears higher and loftier moral burdens towards one self and others as well as to other species and the whole universe. Furthermore, since it is based upon a fact of the performance of the heart/mind, it is no problem for Confucianism to accept other species having the same moral status if their heart/mind has evolved to the standard of being a moral agent. Zhu Xi’s theory on the relation between human being, non-human being and Dao is succinctly presented in one of his commentary to Mencius 6A.3: Human nature is what human beings are endowed from the Principle (li) of Heaven. Life (sheng 生) is the qi 氣 (matter, or vital force) that human being endowed by Heaven. Xing 性 (inborn nature) is what is metaphysical (xing er shang 形而上, the form above matter) and qi is what is concrete (xing er xia 形而下, below the form). When born, human and non-human beings have the same kind of nature and the same kind of matter. On the level

 I reject both the anthropocomsic view of Tu Wei-ming and anthropocentrism of many others, including a recent one elaborated by Fan Rui-ping. Cf Tu (1998), Tu (2001) and Fan (2005). I have elaborated in more details in two earlier papers and argued that Confucianism holds a position between anthropocentrism and ecocentrism in my papers of Lee (2008) and (2010). 6  This criterion is explicitly stated in Mencius, where the moral heart/mind or the unbearable mind (bu ren ren zhi xin 不忍人之心) is the source of morality, which is something that draws the distinction of being human and non-human. For Confucianism, there would be no morality to start with without this function of our moral heart/mind. This constitutes the particular significance of being human or humanity, and is properly regarded as what confers particular moral status of human being. For a documented analysis of the arguments presented in Mencius, please be referred to the chapter 4 of my book On the Source of Normativity of Confucianism (Taipei: Legion Publisher) (Lee 2013). 5

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of qi (matter), human and non-human beings seem to make no difference in perception and movement. On the level of principle, the endowment of ren 仁 (humanity), yi 義 (justice), li 禮 (appropriateness), zhi 智 (conscience) is something no other non-human beings could have fully the same. That is why human nature is absolutely good and becomes the top most active agency of the ten-thousand things (wanwu zhi ling 萬物之靈). (Zhu 1984: 326)7

However, by invoking the ideas of ren 仁 (humanity) and the principle of sheng sheng bu xi 生生不息, it brings us to a deeper and more elaborative way of Zhu Xi’s construction of a Confucianism that contains an environmental ethics.

3 Zhu Xi’s Theory of Ren 仁 and Zhu Xi’s Environmental Ethics In his famous and important philosophical essay “On The Meaning of Ren” (ren shuo 仁說), Zhu Xi presents a rather systematic theory about the Confucian core concept of ren 仁 (humanity). It starts with the following exposition of the meaning of the concept: The mind of Heaven and Earth is to produce things, and the lives of human and things are born with the mind of Heaven and Earth as their own heart/mind. Therefore to talk of the virtue of the heart/mind, though it is encompassing and penetrating all things completely, but to put it in a word, it is just ren 仁 (humanity). (Zhu 2002a:1178, 2002b: 3279)

Zhu Xi understands the concept of ren as the essence of the mind of Heaven and Earth which is the principle that creates and sustains all things in the Universe. It is the principle of creativity of the Universe. Hence, the greatest virtue of Heaven and Earth is procreation (tiandi zhi dade yuesheng 天地之大德曰生). Its production is not once and for all. Its procreation is non-stopping but forever promotes the production and reproduction of all thing. Hence, the Universe is in a state of forever reproducing and flourishing which is shown in the repeated reproduction of life (sheng sheng bu xi 生生不息). Life becomes more and more diversified and plentiful. This is how Confucianism pictures the evolution of the Cosmos and the manifestation of Dao. This principle is captured in the mind of Heaven and Earth. Therefore, ren is for Zhu Xi first a universal and objective principle. It is the basic principle that sustains the existence of the Universe and hence the existence of all things. Now this principle is also bestowed to all things created along the process though as stated above each has different degrees of capability to present it alive. Among all things, human being is not only conscious of it, but also could act according to this principle in like manner of the procreation of the Heaven and Earth. This heart/mind is the fountain and foundation of our creation and moral actions. The moral heart/mind is, from our stand point, the origin of morality. It is both s­ ubjective

 The translation adapts a little from Yong Huang’s well-written essay, “Two Dilemmas in Virtue Ethics and How Zhu Xi’s Neo-Confucianism Avoids Them” (Huang 2011) which has a nice explication of the quoted passage. 7

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and objective as ren is our moral subjectivity and also objectively the principle sustaining and bestowed to everything. Since the principle of ren of our heart/mind could manifest through our action, it puts us in the position that we could share and have empathetic feeling with other living things and non-living things as well. It is the important discovery of Confucius when he points out that our mind could naturally share the suffering of others and the more intimate the stronger our empathy. This principle of gradation of love (ai you cha deng 愛有差等) in moral practice is upheld by Zhu Xi: 8. In the broad sense, the word “ren” is the encompassing whole. Compassion (ce yin 惻隱, unbearable feeling), or benevolence, is the natural appearance of ren. (Zhu 1983: 118) 9. Ren is the root. Its compassion towards other’s suffering is its sprout. The extension of our intimate relation with family members, to the love of others, and to the benevolence of everything, is a way of expanding ren from its root to the branches and leaves. (Zhu 1983: 118) 10. Only when one is a man of ren, could one be impartial (gong 公). . . . Therefore, Master Cheng said: “[ren is] what one realizes impartiality in one’s live.” (Zhu 1983: 116) Zhu Xi tries to incorporate into the principle of ren the universality and impartiality for all and with the natural duty of responsibility to our intimate others in a gradation. It is better viewed as an expanding circle of our obligation towards others, with our family the closest, then our community or ethnic members, our countries, to all human beings and ultimately to all beings in the world. According to Zhu Xi, partiality for one’s own benefit is a sign of selfishness and directly in opposition to the principle of ren. Zhu Xi as well as all Confucians would not allow human being acts purely for one’s own benefit in harming others, but also never allows us acting for human’s benefit in the detriment of the important benefits of other species. As to the tragic situation that as an animal of a mixed diet we need to feed on other living things for survival it seems against the principle of ren. To this, I shall return to it in the next section. In short, the principle of ren is just and universal to all. Furthermore, this principle of ren does not stop at the circle of intimate fellows, nor only to human beings, it extends to non-human beings and ultimately to all things and the whole Universe. Zhu Xi adopts the Confucian ideal of helping everyone and everything to extend to the utmost their endowments (jin ren xing, jin wu xing 盡人性, 盡物性). In respect of non-human living things, Zhu Xi said: As to the practice of extending all things to the utmost of their endowment, such as birds and beasts, worms and fishes, grass and trees, animals and plants, we have to deal with them accordingly, so that they could have their best flourishing. (Zhu 1983: 1569)

This shows that our heart/mind is not only in unity with the mind of Heaven and Earth, but also in unity with all living as well as non-living things. We are like all in a family. All are inclusive with sympathy, love, and benevolence. The circle of our duty to others is an infinitely expanding circle. The universal nature of our heart/mind, which could not bear the sufferings of others and what we inherited from the mind of

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Heaven and Earth would not allow us to harm others and confers upon us a series of obligations to all. The ideal is to share and live in a harmonious community for all. Lastly, Zhu Xi distances himself from the saying that ren is taking the ten thousand things as one with oneself or that ren is the sympathy of others (Zhu Xi 2002b: 3281; Mou 1969: 237–238), both thesis are in fact come from Cheng Hao (Cheng Mingdao). For Zhu Xi regards the basic meaning of ren is a universal principle of procreation. However, it does not mean that Zhu Xi reject the holism or compassion or sympathy with others in his theory of ren. He regards the first kind of saying ren as unity with all others as a way of pointing out that ren is to love all without limitation but it is not the essential meaning of ren. Similarly, Zhu Xi rejects the view that ren is sympathetic perception, which he thinks only stating the fact that ren contains zhi 智 (perception) (Zhu 2002b: 3281) though he acknowledges that ren could have the function of knowing the sufferings of others and could make the correct moral distinctions and decisions. These are functions of ren but not the essence. Ren is not only a basic principle or virtue, and not only the first in priority of the rest three of yi 義 (just), li 禮 (appropriateness), zhi 智 (conscience), ren is also an encompassing principle that contains the rest. It is the primordial principle and virtue of all. Zhu Xi thinks that only taken to be the first principle of procreation could represent the essential meaning of ren. As a principle, it is a principle not only of morality but also of existence, and as a virtue, it is not only the virtue of a person, it is also a virtue of Heaven and Earth. Zhu Xi reasons that this is why Confucians are so eager to pursuit and teach ren all along. Furthermore, Zhu Xi makes the interesting parallels of the four seasons with the four virtues of the Mind of Heaven and Earth. As the principles of existence, the Mind of Heaven and Earth is manifested through the four seasons that represent the operation and evolution of the Universe, and it is compounded with the four virtues of the Mind of Heaven and Earth which is also manifested in the virtues of a person, that is, ren, yi, li, and zhi. This is the bridge that connects human beings with all other living and non-living beings and the Principle of the Universe, the Mind of Heaven and Earth, the Dao of Heaven. This is the basis of the unity of human being with Heaven (tianren heyi 天人合一). It reflects the Confucian twofold conception of cosmological process, that is, it is a process of natural evolution and at the same time a process of forever flourishing in a process of sheng-sheng bu yi 生生不已, progressing and endowing everything with an inborn principle of flourishing to be prosperous forever. It is simultaneously a natural and moral process. The late Professor Mou Zongsan has summarized it best as “the cosmological order is also a moral order” (Mou 1968). Hence looking through the eyes of a virtuous man, Heaven and Earth endows unselfishly the power of procreation to every living thing is a greatest virtue that merits our respect. As an inborn and internal principle of our life, we have the natural duty to manifest it to the utmost, that is, to help other living things and non-living things to achieve the best of their existence. This is the idea developed clearly in Chapter 22 of the Doctrine of the Mean (Zhongyong 中庸), which Zhu Xi no doubt also has in his mind, that human being has the obligation to make not only one’s life in the manifestation of the principle of ren of one’s heart/ mind, but also help to let every other human beings or non-human beings, living and

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non-living things to the utmost expression of their endowed capability of talent and procreation as much as possible (Zhu 1984: 32–33). This encompassing Confucian ethical theory in fact commands an enormous and almost insurmountable obligation to Confucians as the obligation is almost infinite and there are strong and reasonable doubt that how Confucianism could solve all the problems and often seeming selfcontradictory obligations in our lives, such as procreation and the killing of animals for their meats, the love of all and the principle of special partial benevolence to family, and other issues. These and other moral dilemmas will be treated in the next section. Up to now, we could be sure that, Confucianism as it is espoused by Zhu Xi is nothing like an anthropocentrism in any sense. It is sometime heralded as more than a humanism in regard with its implications on the religious dimension and the concerns with the wellbeing of the whole Universe. It is clearly a humanistic holism. These are the basic ideas and structure of Zhu Xi’s environmental ethics extended from his Confucianism. We may now investigate further its theoretical implications for the understanding of and solutions to some of our environmental issues.

4 Zhu Xi’s Solution of Some Environmental Issues Let us recapitulate the basic principle of Zhu Xi’s system of ethics and environmental ethics before going into his treatment of environmental issues. It could be summed up as treating all beings as one body with proper gradation of love according to intimacy and moral status while maintaining a fair treatment to every being in the universe. For according to our analysis above, Zhu Xi admits that every being has the same Principle as the metaphysical background of its existence and thus all things are ontologically equal. By the principle of ren, it requires us to do justice to every being. We could argue that according to Zhu Xi, the differentiation across species is based on the difference in the function of their heart/mind. The better performance of the heart/mind realizes better the value of the Principle or Dao and thus deserves higher moral considerations. Hence, the capability of the heart/mind enhances the worth of the agent. It makes the difference so that we could have a just moral consideration for different species without the fault of falling into the charge of speciesism. Taking the difference into consideration is not discrimination but a principle of justice. Beside the holistic consideration of ecological holism, we could have a simple list of the order of moral status roughly with the ascending order of physical objects, plants, animals, and human beings with some considerations due to the relative affiliations and affections of different kinds of beings, including parental intimacy, religious or ethnic ritual respect, historical objects, pets and others.8 This gradation of moral status according to heart/mind capability has important implications in Zhu Xi writings as well as Confucianism more broadly, in  I follow and assimilate the seven principles in determining the difference in moral status in Mary Anne Warren’s book of Moral Status, taking them as heuristic methods of ethical analysis with the underlying principle of Zhu Xi and of Confucianism in general. Cf. Warren (1997). 8

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d­ etermining our moral considerations or obligations towards others and the Universe as a whole. It has great significance to the reasonableness of our judgments of our action and relation with other sentient beings and the ecological environment. In this way, Zhu Xi as a Confucian, would deliver his responsibility towards other beings and the ecological environment in an expanding circle with our family members as the center or core of our moral decision-making. It is by no means species exclusive, but openly accepts all things as brothers and sisters within an extended family. Zhu Xi as well as all Confucians will take the Universe as one and a holistic view on global issues. In other words, Confucianism will regard human beings as a whole involving in every global environmental issue. We have the duty to resolve the sufferings caused by global disasters and demand that everyone has to do his or her duty to resolve the grave problem facing us as a whole. One of the issues that has been the focus of environmental ethics is the problem of anthropocentric orientation in western culture and philosophy. According to Zhu Xi’s thinking, in line with the mainstream Confucian philosophy, all beings under Heaven, including human and other beings, are of the same metaphysical or ontological status, and hence worthy of equal considerations. The flourishing of all beings is the basic line of action. There is no basis for us to behave irresponsibly towards other beings or the whole world. Ren and its implication of love and benevolence of others and of the world means we have to take care of their benefits and interests together. For Zhu Xi, our limited power in our actions means that we need to share different obligations, and this is best dealt with the principle of “the principle is one and differentiates into many.” It implies that we have special duties towards our intimately related persons and respect for others acting similarly. Never using force to solve our conflicts is the first step for a good solution of environmental problems. To live in harmony with others and with Nature is one of the goals of Confucianism and is an important principle in dealing with inter-ethnic, inter-species, and international conflicts. Zhu Xi’s taking all beings on Earth as interrelated comes very close to the ecological thinking of land ethic in taking every constituent of an eco-system as forming a necessary part of the whole and the whole as what necessarily holds every constituent together. Though Confucianism may not emphasize the reality that all beings form a closely knitted whole as ecological studies tell us, Confucianism does regard each as parts of a natural family. Each is interdependent and interrelated with different degrees of intimacy or relatedness with all others. All are related more than simply living symbiotically together. For Zhu Xi’s idea is more holistic than ecologically binding. This is also a grave moral issue for Confucianism as we are under an ecological food chain of survival. Ecology takes the food chain as something natural and beyond the problem of good and evil. Confucians take this fact seriously as a moral agent. We are as a family but also needs the supply of food from members of the family. There is no escape. This is of particular importance in current situation as food shortage may cause more land use and intensive living conflicts between species, and lesser the capability of our Earth to recover from wastes and pollutions. While taking other living species as equals and knowing that every individual in a sense is forever trying to survive, a Confucian could not remove himself or herself

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from the basic law for survival or from the chain within ecology. We have to eat foods for survival and this is the reason we are part of an ecological system with no escape. In this aspect, following the common way of living in line with our natural status in the ecological circle is perhaps the most reasonable and best way to live and flourish. In such a case, the more sensitive one’s heart/mind, the heavier one’s moral pressure to figure out a moral way of survival. It seems that the more we eat and the better we survive the more we demand the sacrifice and suffering of other species. This causes two major kinds of problems. The first one is the problems caused by the ever-increasing human population which exerts a huge burden to other species and the environment. The second is the issue of the kinds of food we should prefer in survival, and in particular in the choice of eating meat or vegetables. These are issues recently under discussions in many international conferences of bioethics and environmental circles. The effects of the human population on Earth’s geological changes have prompted anthropologists to propose that we are now in an Anthropocene era. It reflects how seriously the impact of human development in the last 300 years and human population growth have become major threats to other species and a major destructive element in environmental problems. Since the world population of humans is well over the carrying power of the Earth,9 and still increasing, species extinctions have been accelerating for decades. Hence to be fair with the survival of other species, human population needs to be curbed and scaled back to an acceptable level. Otherwise, the problem of extinction would sooner or later happens to homo-­sapiens alike. Zhu Xi and Confucians would support a rational plan of reducing the world population to a level that the Earth could sustain.10 If we do not want the tragic result of another world war or massive killing to achieve the balance, reducing reproduction is the only solutions. However, it is a complicated situation. For, populations in developed countries have been diminishing and getting relatively older than the under-developed countries and would have serious and negative effects on the future generations of these countries if they reduce their population further. For not only the production force dwindles so that the future GDP may not be able to support a relatively large percentage of old population, but the middle generation have to shoulder more the obligations to support a fair living of the older and the younger generations at the same time. From the Confucianism point of view, we have first to break through the boundary of nationalism and so-called national interest, and come to the realization that human beings are living inter-dependently as one family.

 The general estimate accepted by professionals is six billion. It means that when the global population exceeds this figure, our environment is destined to a no-return path of degeneration. Our population has exceeded seven billion a few years ago and the figure is still surging. 10  As a Confucian, I support the reduction of human population, and have been challenged by some colleagues that this is a betrayal of Confucius teachings and Chinese tradition in the pursuit of extending the family trees as huge as possible. However, if we know about the facts and the basic idea of a Confucian holism, I am sure that if Confucius and Zhu Xi were living today will no doubt support my idea of reducing human population in order to let every species have the space to flourish and be living harmonious with Heaven and Earth. 9

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Ethnic and cultural diversity should be cherished as our common heritage. What we need is integration, tolerance and harmony, not conflicts and war. We have to stick to the ideas that we should live peacefully together and help each other as members of a family. Developed countries have to recognize that helping the underdeveloped is not just benevolence, but a kind of inter-ethnic obligations. Food and accommodation necessities should be sending from rich countries to the poorer ones, especially helping those vulnerable, such as children and women. Free access of migration and immigration should be open for all (tian xia wei gong 天下為公). It is reasonable that immigrants need to respect and support the host countries and their cultures, and have the commitment to merge with the host countries in making certain changes both in value and culture. It would cause more conflicts than good if we hold onto our own tradition without any adaptation and tolerance. In view of the fair and necessary co-existence with others and other species,11 Confucianism would fully support such merging of different ethnic groups and religions and the reduction of human population. As for the second question of diet changes. The most common and rational reason for not eating meat is that it leads to the slaughtering of members of the animal species that supply meat.12 This is usually termed as the moral duty to reduce pain (Peter Singer) or to respect the right to life of animals (Tom Regan). It seems that we could have our diet change from eating meat to vegetables without much harm to our growth and health. However, it is not quite sure that vegetables could make up all our daily needs, especially those of children without harmful effects in our development. The complete change of our diet to vegetarian would obviously have enormous impact on our environment which seems so great as to be beyond our estimation. While human ways of living within the ecological pyramid have been ongoing for thousands of years at least, the balance may be said to have tipped in some areas leading to the extinction of other species due to our over herding and shortage of water and land supply for raising domestic animals. However, these have to do with population rather than diet. Our natural wisdom is to not change our natural way of living unless it is necessary. This prudence principle sounds much better and safe in our environmental decisions. Another lesser but still important factor that needs be considered is that human cultures and civilizations starts with our ancestors getting more food, especially animal meat supplies to provide the energy and time for the development of human society and culture. The betterment need not be just for human beings, and it is and could be a betterment for all. Returning to a primitive state is not the ideal nor the reasonable and desirable goal.

 Even viruses need be contained but not demolished completely.  There are of course religious reasons that prompted many to be vegetarian, especially Buddhism, however, we shall respect their religion and faith but these will not be a reason for a universal quest for diet change. Here I am also leaving the problem of those pains or inhuman treatments in the raising, transporting, and slaughter of domestic animals and birds as these could be and should be lessened by adopting better and natural ways of raising and painless way of killing, etc. These kinds of actions have been taken progressively though still need be encouraged and promoted further. 11 12

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Confucianism values cultural and civilization creation as one of the forms of manifestation of the creativity of the heart/mind and should not be lightly rejected out of hand. As part of the biological groups, human species is naturally living with a mixed diet. The change of diet is not only a question of breaking the ecological pyramid, it entails a radical change of a species. We do not have good reasons for taking this route to solve the problem of the human–nature relationship. One of the proposals in respond to these problems is taking the advice of Mencius. Zhu Xi is surely going with Mencius that we should lead a simple life, possibly eating more natural vegetables than meat, so as to maintain a better heart/ mind performance and better for the survival of other species. Zhu Xi agrees with Mencius (Mencius 7B.35) in the proposal for a lesser desire satisfaction style of life and comments that: Though human beings could not go without desire satisfaction, but if we have too much desire without appropriate self-restriction, we are more pruned to lose our original mind (ben xin 本心). (Zhu 1984: 374)

Zhu Xi allows certain reasonable satisfactions of our desire, including our daily necessities. Excess of desire no doubt leads to conflict and the neglect of the needs of others and inevitably the loss of our concerns and sympathy with others. Without the empathetic feeling of our heart/mind towards the sufferings of others, we will lose our original unity with others and with Heaven and Earth. Confucianism would not reject our natural and often necessary physical and biological needs. Food and sex are not rejected out of hand. They need only be restricted in a reasonable way in accordance with our proper requirement and carried out in appropriate fashions such as dinning and wedding rituals so that all be in a harmonious way (he 和). Harmony is meant to be the manifestation of the principles of our heart/mind and living peacefully is the basic condition of toleration to let all have the chance to manifest to the utmost of our natural endowment, because desire will lead us astray and causes more pain and sufferings. According to Zhu Xi’s emphasis of our duty towards universal harmony (和) and hence our global concern, we have a commitment towards the maintaining and flourishing of all lives in the world and thus we are responsible to maintain the sustainability of the natural environment in our pursuit of personal and group development. Development without sustainability means a dead end for all. Again, returning to a simple life style is a good strategy for enhancing the wellbeing of human beings, of all beings as well as the universe as a whole. For Zhu Xi, the realization of the value of being human or humanity is a moral practice which is a heart/mind enhancement rather than material gains. A peaceful and self-sustainable life without distortion (an shen li ming 安身立命) is the goal of Confucianism maintaining a simple life above the basic necessities of survival is good for our heart/mind cultivation and the less we impinge upon the survival of other beings the more we deserve to have a higher moral status. In a sense, we are doing this not only for ourselves, but also for the sake of all, that is, for the realization of the virtues of our heart/mind as well as the heart/mind of Heaven and Earth.

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We may now give an answer to the most urgent present day issue, that is, global warming. It is clear that for Zhu Xi there is something wrong in the cause of such a large-scale global disaster. One of the causes is the overuse of natural resources for the betterment of human being. What we have done is the cause of the perishing of thousands of species in a rapid and ever-increasing speed. Not only will this cause great and rapid collapsing of the Earth’s ecology, it will definitely result in the acceleration of the extinction of more species on Earth and probably Homo sapiens as well. We have all the responsibility to employ to the utmost our efforts in the diminishing of exploitations of natural resources and other species, and if we could, avoiding its going worse any further. For Zhu Xi, it is the duty for everyone and our collective effort is the only possible way to make good of it. Again any action collectively or individually which could bring the reverse of the calamity should be employed. Similar to the wakening of personal conscience in daily life, we need to promote, as Leopold once suggested, a kind of ecological conscience (Leopold 1945: 207ff), to guard against any improper invasion of Nature, and to protect the integrity of our ecological community. The heart/mind of the unbearable feeling towards the sufferings of others is the most suitable expression of our ecological conscience. For, the heart/mind is our moral conscience towards the sufferings of others, it is in fact also a conscience towards the suffering of other species, to cows and goats, cats and dog and for Confucians even towards the breaking of houses and bricks. It is by all means a universal conscience for all, and thus no less than the ecological conscience for a land ethic. For Zhu Xi and Confucianism, we are not only citizens of a global community, we are also an ecological citizen of our Earth. In supporting the sustainable development for all, we have and ought to live harmoniously with every being and Nature.

5 A Confucian Idea of the Role of Human Being: A Nurturer After critical reflections and analysis of the source of global disaster in the culture and philosophies of the West, some scholars have concluded that the Bible’s saying that God allows man to use all natural resources as we wish is the root of the relentless abuse of Nature for the betterment of human beings (White 1998: 204–9). Some religious scholars, however, suggest that this is an incorrect rendition of the passage, which should be correctly understood as only giving human beings the duty to be a steward of Nature rather than exploitation for human good (Kay 1998: 210–21). This is of course a good conceptual redefinition of the human–nature relationship and would be most useful for eliminating further exploitation of Nature. The famous principle of Land Ethics was stated by Leopold: A thing is right when it tends to preserve the integrity, stability, and beauty of the biotic community. It is wrong when it tends otherwise. (Leopold 1945: 224–25)

It captures one of the basic ways of living with the problems of our environment. Living harmoniously with others means retaining an environmental integrative life,

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a stable relationship with Nature and as everything falling into place, it would be kind of natural beauty, where, as Zhu Xi would have pointed out, it is a manifestation of the principle of li-yi-fen-shu. Sometimes Leopold’s saying is stretched to become eco-centrism or restricted to do-not-disturb the course of Nature, which may not be fully right for Confucianism. It is no doubt that Zhu Xi would agree with the basic idea of this principle, though Confucians will go further as we are also encouraged to share the duty with Heaven or Dao. According to Chapter 22 of Zhongyong, our moral duty towards other beings is more than a stewardship, we need to go further, Only those who are absolutely sincere can fully develop their nature (xing). If they can fully develop their nature, they can fully develop the nature of others. If they can fully develop the nature of others, they can fully develop the nature of things. If they can fully develop the nature of things, they can assist in the transforming and nourishing process of Heaven and Earth. If they can assist in the transforming and nourishing process of Heaven and Earth, they can thus form a trinity with Heaven and Earth. (Zhu 1984: 32)

Our moral duty is not just doing here or there a morally good act, but have to do to the utmost of our power for morality. The specific concept of duty relating to our inborn nature (xing) is a particular Confucian idea. It is referred to as our xing fen 性分 (Heavenly mandate), that is, the duty to make good what inheres in our inborn nature. It is developed by Mencius and means that there is a moral imperative to follow the mandate we are born with. Primarily, it concerns the morality of our nature (xing li 性理) or Mandate of Heaven (tian ming 天命). We thus have the duty to develop and extend the inborn moral Principle or principles to the utmost possible. In other words, it is what we experience as the moral command of our inborn nature, which expresses in our moral conscience towards the sufferings of others. In response to this imperative, we have to do not only what we morally ought to do, we also have the duty to lessen the sufferings of others or helping others to become better in their living and doing. Fulfilling our moral command of our inborn nature means that we have to help others to live and to flourish better. Hence, if we can fully develop this imperative of our nature, we are fully developing the nature of others, human and non-human. However, we regard the command of our xing fen as encompassing also the inborn talents of every person and everything. Not only the full fulfilment of one’s moral request is morally needed, the full development of our individual natural desires and talents do have the same request for satisfaction. Within the limit of morality and compatibility of the requests for everyone and everything, we have to help the full satisfaction, within a morally acceptable limitation, of every being’s biological, psychological, as well as spiritual needs. In his comment on this passage, Zhu Xi identifies the inborn nature or Principle of others and of matters or non-human living and non-living things as the same as our own inborn nature (Zhu 1984: 33). It means that we have not only the moral duty to extend to the utmost my principle as my mandate, it is also my mandate to extend to the utmost the principle of others. Hence, Zhu Xi completely agrees that we have the duty not only to extend to the utmost the imperatives of our nature or Principle (li)¸ we have the duty to help manifest to the utmost the inborn nature of everything at the same time. Putting this request in the environmental field, I would argue that

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Confucianism requests us to be more than a bystander on environmental issues, but a more positive role in response to such issues. We have to help or to promote what Dao may have neglected or insufficiently covered. In doing so, we are participating in the nourishing act of Dao and figuratively speaking become one with Dao, that is, a nurturer (huayuzhe 化育者) in environmental field.13 It would command us to contribute positively to the sustainability of our environment and never do things detrimental to other species and the environment as a whole. In a word, we have the duty to make Earth a manifestation of the Kingdom of Heaven.

6 Conclusion There are strong reasons and texts showing that Confucianism is not anthropocentric, nor anthropocosmic in theory or practice. Confucianism is basically, if we need a term for it, an eco-cosmological theory, which has a holistic conception of the Universe. This is best shown by Cheng Mingdao in his famous statement that “a man of ren is in one body with the ten thousand things under Heaven and on Earth” (ren zhe yu tiandi wanwu wei yiti 仁者與天地萬物為一體), which means that all beings on Earth form one body, interpenetrating and, inter-related and part and parcel of one living life together. Wang Yangming has indeed a very similar statement that Confucianism regards all being as one body through the function of the heart/ mind. Though Zhu Xi is not a good representative in this respect, he nonetheless embraces the same idea and ideal of Confucianism. Hence, Confucianism is an eco-­ cosmopolitanism (shengtai pubian zhuyi 生態普遍主義).

References Brundtland, Gro Harlem. 1987. Our Common Future. Oxford: Oxford University Press. (This is published by the World Commission on Environment and Development in 1987. As the chairperson is Gro Harlem Brundtland, it is hence generally known as the Brundtland Report.) Callicott, J. Baird. 1994. Earth’s Insight: A Survey of Ecological Ethics from the Mediterranean Basin to the Australian Outback. Berkeley: University of California Press. (A good academic survey of the different world views of different cultures.) Carson, Rachel. 1962. Silent Spring. New York: Penguin. (A first book on the alarming effects of pollution in industries and development in the West.)

 I have elaborated more fully this idea in some of my earlier writing, please be referred to “An Idea of Green Thinking: From Confucian Legacy to Global Warming,” presented in the conference of Applied Ethics: Third International Conference in Sapporo organized on Nov. 21–23, 2008, by Research Group of Ethics, Faculty of Letters, Hokkaido University, Sapporo, Japan; and “The Possibility of a Global Environmental Ethics: A Confucian Proposal,” in Jack Lee (ed.) Sustainability and Quality of Life (Palo Alto: Ria University Press, 2010), pp. 103–18. 13

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Chasek, Pamela S., David L Downie, and Janet W. Brown. 2006. Global Environmental Politics, 4th ed. Boulder: Westview Press. (It listed 11 well-known environmental cases and very worthy of a deeper reflection on environmental issues globally.) Devall, Bill, and George Sessions. 1985. Deep Ecology: Living As If Nature Mattered. Layton: Peregrine Smith. (A book summarizes the ideas and proposals of ecosophy.) Fan, Ruiping. 2005. “A Reconstructionist Confucian Account of Environmentalism: Towards a Human Sagely Dominion over Nature.” Journal of Chinese Philosophy 32.1(March): 105–22. (A different line of development of Confucianism that takes Confucianism as a legitimate anthropocentric theory.) Huang, Yong. 2011. “Two Dilemmas in Virtue Ethics and How Zhu Xi’s Neo-Confucianism Avoids Them.” Journal of Philosophical Research 36: 247–281. Kay, Jeanne. 1998. “Concepts of Nature in the Hebrew Bible.” Reprinted in Environmental Ethics: Divergence and Convergence, edited by Richard G. Botzler and Susan J. Armstrong, 2nd ed., 210–221. Boston: McGraw-Hill. (A paper dealing with the controversial problem of interpreting what role the Bible confers to human being in Nature.) Lee, Shui Chuen. 2008. “An Idea of Green Thinking: From Confucian Legacy to Global Warming.” Paper presented at the Conference of Applied Ethics: Third International Conference in Sapporo Organized on Nov. 21–23, 2008, by Research Group of Ethics, Faculty of Letters, Hokkaido University, Sapporo, Japan. (A paper on the Confucian environmental ethics with a proposal of a role of nurturer for the human–nature relationship.) ———. 2010. “The Possibility of a Global Environmental Ethics: A Confucian Proposal.” In Jack Lee, ed., Sustainability and Quality of Life, 103–118. Palo Alto: Ria University Press. (It explains and develops a Confucian global environmental ethics.) ———. 2013. On the Source of Moral Normativity of Confucianism 儒家道德規範根源論. Taipei 臺北: Legion Publisher 鵝湖出版社. (It makes a critique of the tri-partition of reason, will and emotion in Western ethics tradition and argues for a unified theory of Confucianism and how it is true to our moral experience.) Leopold, Aldo. 1945. A Sand County Almanac, and Sketches Here and There. New York: Oxford University Press. (The first book on the ecology of the Land and a Land Ethic.) Naess, Arne. 1973. “The Shallow and the Deep, Long-Range Ecology Movement: A Summary” Inquiry 16.1–4: 95–100. (A concise essay of Naess’s theory of environmental ethics.) Newton, Lisa H. 2003. Ethics and Sustainability: Sustainable Development and the Moral Life. Upper Saddle River Prentice Hall. (An essay developing the Land Ethics in line with Aristotelian virtue ethics.) Mou, Zongsan 牟宗三. 1968. Xinti yu Xingti 心體與性體, vols. 1–2. Taipei 臺北: Ching-Zhong Book Co. 正中書局. (A Revolutionary and insightful analysis of Song–Ming Confucianism before Zhu Xi.) ———. 1969. Xinti yu Xingti 心體與性體, vol. 3. Taipei 臺北: Ching-Zhong Book Co. 正中書局. (A Revolutionary and insightful analysis of Song–Ming Confucianism, with special contribution to the modern reading and understanding of Zhu Xi’s philosophy.) Potter, Van Rensselaer. 1970. “Bioethics, Science of Survival.” Biology and Medicine 14: 127– 153. (A first paper raising environmental issues as a survival problem of human beings.) Tang, Junyi. 唐君毅. 1977. Shengming Cunzai yu Xinling Jingjie 生命存在與心靈境界. Taipei 臺北: Xuesheng Book Co. 台灣學生書局. (A systematic presentation of the philosophy of the great contemporary Neo-Confucian Tang Junyi.) Tu, Wei-ming. 1998. “Beyond the Enlightenment Mentality.” In Mary Evelyn Tucker and John Berthrong, eds., Confucianism and Ecology, 3–22. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. (A collection of essays on some implications of Confucianism on ecology within the interrelation of Heaven, Earth and Human beings.) ———. 2001. “The Ecological Turn in New Confucian Humanism: Implications for China and the World.” Daedalus 130.4: 243–264. (An interesting development of Confucian thinking on environmental ethics.)

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Warren, Mary Anne. 1997. Moral Status: Obligations to Persons and Other Living Things. Oxford: Clarendon Press. (A book with penetrating analysis of the problem and solution of bioethical problems by applying the concept of moral status.) White, Lynn Jr. 1998. “The Historical Roots of Our Ecological Crisis.” Reprinted in Environmental Ethics: Divergence and Convergence, edited by Richard G. Botzler and Susan J. Armstrong, 2nd ed, 204–209. Boston: McGraw-Hill. (A provoking paper accusing the root of environmental problems comes from the unlimited role conferred to human being by the Bible.) Zhu, Xi 朱熹. 1983. Classified Conversations of Master Zhu 朱子語類. Beijing 北京: Zhonghua Shuju 中華書局. ———. 1984. Annotations on the Four Books 四書章句集注. Taipei 臺北: Legion Society 鵝湖 月刊社. ———. 2002a. Zhuwengung’s [Zhu Xi] Collected Writings 朱文公文集. In vols. 20–25 of The Complete Works of Master Zhu 朱子全書. Shanghai 上海: Shanghai guji chubanshe 上海古 籍出版社. ———. 2002b. The Complete Works of Master Zhu 朱子全書, edited by Zhu Jeren 朱傑人, Yan Zuozhi 嚴佐之, and Liu Yongxiang 劉永翔. Shanghai 上海: Shanghai guji chubanshe 上海 古籍出版社. Shui Chuen Lee is the director of the Research Center for Chinese Philosophy (under the Foundation for Academic Research on Oriental Humanities). He founded the curricula of applied ethics and contemporary interpretation of Chinese philosophy for the PhD program as well as the journal Applied Ethics Review when he was a professor and director of the Graduate Institute of Philosophy, National Central University. His research interest includes Contemporary NeoConfucianism, Confucian bioethics, Kant, and Hume.  

Chapter 27

Zhu Xi’s Critical Naturalism: Methodology of His Natural Knowledge and Philosophy Vincent Shen

1 Introduction This chapter concerns itself with the methodological issues related to Zhu Xi’s natural knowledge and philosophy that we may call a critical naturalism. He takes a critical attitude in establishing his philosophy on both natural and supernatural phenomena (thus called by others) in looking for their reason d’être or principle (li 理). In the following, we will discuss first of all some cautious distinctions in dealing with his methodology. Then we will proceed to explain what I mean by “critical naturalism,” in discussing the natural philosophy and the methodological issues involved in this naturalist enterprise. The basic idea Zhu Xi appeals to in his methodology may be summarized in what he calls “seeing things from things themselves” (yi wu guan wu 以物觀物), as distinguished from “seeing things from oneself (yi ji guan wu 以己觀物)”1 with a critical eye. Then we will proceed to discuss how this natural attitude affects his consideration of some “supernatural” issues seen as such by many people. Before we start to discuss Zhu Xi’s methodology in dealing with natural knowledge and philosophy, a few preliminary methodological distinctions need to be made. First, concerning our first-hand materials, that is, Zhu Xi’s texts on which our analysis is to be based, we should make the distinction between his own writings, such as those we find in his Collected Writings (Zhuzi Wenji 朱子文集), and his textually recorded responses by his students and visitors in the Classified  Zhu Xi says, “See things as from things themselves, don’t see things as from self (yi wu guann wu, wu yi ji guan wu 以物觀物, 無以己觀物)” (Zhu 1999, vol. 1: 181). Thus he is claiming an objective view of things that each has its own principle. 1

V. Shen (deceased) (*) Department of Philosophy and Department of East Asian Studies, University of Toronto, Toronto, ON, Canada © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2020 K.-c. Ng, Y. Huang (eds.), Dao Companion to ZHU Xi’s Philosophy, Dao Companions to Chinese Philosophy 13, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-29175-4_27

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Conversations (Zhuzi Yulei 朱子語類). There are scholars who take these two works to be of equal value and base their studies on the textual analysis of both. For example, The Natural Philosophy of Chu Hsi (1130–1200), a work by Yung Sik Kim, minutely analyses Zhu Xi’s texts, using the Classified Conversations more than the Collected Writings, to determine Zhu Xi’s basic concepts of natural philosophy and his knowledge of the natural world (see Kim 2000). To this end, Kim has used textual analysis and classification of terms in the Classified Conversations and elaborated in different chapters of his book the Yin–Yang Associations, the Five Phases Associations, the Common Trigram Associations, the Four Cosmic-Quality Associations . . . etc. It is true that the Classified Conversations shows that Zhu Xi’s conversations with his disciples and visitors quite often lead into discussions about natural knowledge and philosophy. When explaining his concepts of li and qi, nature and principle, spirit and ghost, and when making comments on classical Confucian scriptures, personages and events, he uses his natural knowledge to interpret the meaning of scriptures, and took natural phenomena as metaphors to illustrate his philosophical ideas. Since very broad subjects are treated in the Classified Conversations, this book is very valuable to us in understanding Zhu Xi’s teaching activities and in discerning the background knowledge presupposed by his philosophy and it is in these respects that we will refer ourselves to this work. However, although the Classified Conversations does offer us quite a lot of useful materials, I hesitate to take it as the object of textual analysis in looking for evidence of Zhu Xi’s methodology and natural knowledge. On the level of textual composition, the Classified Conversations, as recollections of dialogues recorded by Zhu Xi’s disciples and visitors, have less value than those texts included in the Collected Writings, for which Zhu Xi himself is responsible as their author. However, the Classified Conversations, which is comparatively loose in structure and less careful in wording, and which is not exempt from the errors and false memories of disciples and visitors’ records, should not be attributed, as to authorship, all to Zhu Xi and therefore they are less suitable for use in textual analysis for the purpose of deciphering Zhu Xi’s own method, knowledge and thought than the Collected Writings, where textual composition is rigorously well-structured and where every discourse and wording is weighted and deliberated by Zhu Xi himself before being released to the public. Furthermore, we have to distinguish between what is knowledge and what is a guess or belief according to Zhu Xi. For pedagogical reasons, some of Zhu Xi’s answers to students’ questions in the Classified Conversations, as well as being more occasional, are sometimes more a matter of guesswork than knowledge. For example, we find him saying that, in the beginning of heaven and earth, there was nothing but yin and yang and their interactional grinding produced many dregs, which were later accumulated as earth in the center (Zhu 1999, vol. 1: 6). For me, though this contains in itself Zhu Xi’s cosmological hypothesis and his metaphysical theory of qi, it can at best be seen merely as a guess or belief. Yet, on other occasions, Zhu Xi proposes some scientific hypotheses with certain rigorous arguments and empirical

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verification, when he, for example, says that, “mountains were formed by the elevation of the sea bottom,” and then proceeds to prove it by, in this instance, “the presence of seashells on top of the mountain.”2 These kinds of propositions verified by empirical data may be seen as scientific knowledge, rather than mere guess or belief. We also have to distinguish between the times when Zhu Xi uses nature as metaphor and those when he discusses his knowledge of nature. For example, when Zhu Xi says that “studying” is like the “burning of fire,” he is not discussing his knowledge of fire itself but using the metaphor of fire to illustrate the process of studying. Zhu Xi says, “Studying is like practicing alchemy. At the start one should smelt with a hot fire. Afterwards one should feed it gradually with a slower fire. Studying is also like cooking things. In the beginning one should boil them with a hot fire, to be followed with a slow fire. Similarly, when we study, we should start with diligence, hard work, careful inquiry, then we should slow down to appreciate and ponder, to flavor back and forth, and the meaning of things will come out by itself” (Zhu 1999, vol. 7: 2766). Here Zhu Xi uses “fire” and “alchemy” as metaphors to discuss the process of studying and thus he is not taking “fire” and “alchemy” as his objects of discussion, much less describing them. Therefore, Zhu Xi’s knowledge of fire should not be read out of this kind of metaphorical use of language. Metaphor itself should not be considered as a kind of descriptive knowledge. This should always be kept in mind when we read Chinese philosophical texts. In summary, in the discussion of Zhu Xi’s methodology and natural knowledge, we should make the distinction, as to the use of first-hand materials for textual analysis, between the value of Zhu Xi’s Collected Writings and his Classified Conversations. Also in reading his texts, we should distinguish between knowledge and guesswork and between metaphor and description.

2 Zhu Xi’s Critical Naturalism3 As mentioned above, Zhu Xi’s vision of the formation, not to say creation, of heaven and earth belongs to his philosophical discourse of cosmology, not to scientific discourse of natural knowledge. From the point of view of science, Zhu Xi’s propositions on these subjects can be seen at best as a speculative hypothesis or as kind of “guesswork,” rather than as natural knowledge. That being said, we can still  Zhu Xi says, “On high mountain there were quite often seen shells of oyster and shellfish in the rocks. These rocks must be earth in ancient times, and those shells from oysters and shellfish are in the water. The lower becomes the higher, and the softer become the harder. This phenomenon is worthy of pondering upon, for these facts can be verified” (Zhu 1999, vol. 6: 2367). 3  Zhu Xi’s natural philosophy can be called a kind of critical naturalism, in the sense that he takes a critical position vis-à-vis his predecessors, and, as to the study of natural phenomena, he accepts causal interpretation, although his concept of cause is broader than that which is used by today’s scientists. Also, he sees ghost and spirit as belonging to natural phenomena, and refuses to see them as supernatural. However, there are other realms of existence for Zhu Xi, which is beyond causal determinism, such as human nature and li as the ultimate reality. 2

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discern some rationality in Zhu Xi’s reasonable and critical corrections of some previously held doctrines, which can be seen as an expression of his methodology and scientific attitude. For example, Zhu Xi thinks that before the formation of heaven and earth, there was nothing but qi 氣 of yin 陰 and yang 陽, and it was through the colliding and grinding of yin with yang, that they started to lead gradually to the formation of heaven and earth. Zhu Xi says, In the beginning of heaven and earth, there was nothing but yin and yang. The movement of qi led to their grinding to each other. When the grinding process became much quicker, many dregs were produced. Since there was no outlet inside, these dregs consequently formed an earth in the center, and those clear parts of qi became heaven, and then became sun and moon, and then became stars, all of them always turning in exterior and making circular movement around the earth. The earth is static in the center, not under the center. (Zhu 1999, vol. 1: 6)

This world vision of Zhu Xi is in fact a result of his metaphysical speculation and thus should not be seen as part of his natural knowledge. It implies a certain geocentric theory, quite similar to that of Aristotle and Ptolemy, very influential in the Western Middle Ages, in which the earth was taken to be the center of the universe. Yet Zhu Xi differs from them in the critical sense that for him, the earth exists in the center of heaven, which is constituted of qi and therefore non-substantial; in other words, the earth is at the center of an infinite universe, not the finite universe of Aristotle and Ptolemy. In general, there are three theories about heaven in ancient China: the Covering Sky theory (Gai Tian Shuo 蓋天說), the Floating Sky theory (Hun Tian Shuo 渾天 說) and the Infinite Universe theory (Xuan Ye Shuo 宣夜說). Zhu Xi sustains the Floating Sky theory in combining it with the Infinite Universe theory, while vehemently criticizing the Covering Sky theory. He accepts the Floating Sky theory because this is already modeled in the armillary sphere of Zhang Heng 張衡 (78–139), a famous astronomer, mathematician and engineer in Han Dynasty. Yet Zhu refuses to accept the Covering Sky theory because this cannot be modeled and even if one tries to model it in the form of an umbrella, this would not work because an umbrella cannot cover the whole hemisphere and wind would leak from the uncovered parts. We can see this way of testing a hypothesis by whether or not it can be modeled as quite a rational way of thinking in itself. Zhu says, The armillary sphere (Hun Yi 渾儀) is quite useful, whereas the Covering Sky theory should not be used. Just let the sustainers of Covering Sky theory imagine the form of its covering sky, how should it be? It must be something like an umbrella, but you will not know how it could be connected to the earth. As to the theory of Floating Sky, there at least you have an armillary sphere. (Zhu 1999, vol. 1: 27)

The footnote to this statement reads, There are people who sustain the theory of Covering Sky, but we just do not know whether we can ask them to fabricate a Covering Sky model. Someone says that it might look like the form of an umbrella, then there must be leak of wind on the four sides of the umbrella. (Zhu 1999, vol. 1: 27).

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These texts show us that Zhu Xi takes whether or not one can put a theory into the explanatory scheme of a rational model as the first criterion of its becoming a good theory or not. The Floating Sky theory has produced the Floating Sky armillary sphere, but this is not true in the case of Covering Sky theory. He tends to think that even if the Covering Sky theory produced a model in the form of an umbrella, it would still not be plausible due to the fact that such a model would allow the wind to leak on the four sides of the earth. Zhu Xi himself inherits the Floating Sky theory and modifies the received hypothesis in a rational way. First, he accepts the Northern Song Neo-Confucian Zhang Zai’s 張載 (1020–1077) correction of the traditional version of this theory, whereby Zhang Heng’s statements that “the earth is floating on water,” and “there is water in the surface of the sky,” are substituted by “the earth is in the middle of qi.” Although he takes it for a fact that the earth is made of water, for him, water, fire, etc. are all simply different manifestations of qi. He says, Yin and yang are qi, yet the five phases are qi’s materialization. Things could be made of these materializations. Even if there are five phases as material manifestations, there should be qi in these five phases to work in them in order to have all things done. However, it is the qi of yin and yang that lies under these five. It is not the case that these five exist in addition to yin and yang. (Zhu 1999, vol. 1: 9)

Second, Zhu takes “heaven” to be ever-turning qi, therefore the heavenly sky itself is not a substance. He says, Heaven’s form is round like a huge bullet, turning around from morning to night, and its north pole and south pole are sliding in the sense that its high pole is in the behind and its low pole in the front. That is why its central axis itself is not turning. That which turns is also without physical body, but turns like a vehement wind. . . . Turning without end, up and down unceasingly, this is heaven without any physical body. The earth is the dregs of qi which cumulates into bodily form. Since it is constrained in the turning movement of vehement wind, it floats immovably in the air enduringly without falling. (Zhu 1967: 97)

Thus Zhu Xi explains his geocentric theory. Although his explanation of why the earth does not fall down may not be plausible today, his theory about the non-­ substantiality of heaven is still quite believable. His concept of heaven is admired by the historian of science Joseph Needham. According to Needham, the vision of the universe proposed by the Chinese since early days, as infinite space in which many stars float and drift, is much more advanced than the substantialist vision of Aristotle and Ptolemy which influenced Western astronomy for more than a thousand years. Joseph Needham says, To such minds the discovery of galaxies other than our own would have seemed full confirmation of their beliefs. Finally Chu Hsi [Zhu Xi] gave to these views his great philosophical authority—the heavens, he said, are bodiless and empty (thien wu thi) [tian wu ti 天無體]. (Needham 1959: 221)

Zhu Xi also studies the phenomenon of solar and lunar eclipse. He criticizes the view launched in the past by Dong Zhongshu 董仲舒 (179 BCE–104 BCE) in the Han Dynasty, that eclipses were abnormal disasters. Contrary to this, Zhu Xi proposes that in the intercrossing of sun and moon in their movement, sunlight is

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c­ overed by the moon and this account for the phenomenon of solar eclipse. As to the cause of moonlight and its phases, Zhu Xi follows the explanation given by Shen Kuo 沈括 (1031–1095), who, in his famous Mengxi Bitan 夢溪筆談 (Notes and Discourse on the Dream River), says, “The moon has no light of its own. It is something like a silver disk, of which the light comes from sunlight” (Shen 1987: 309). Zhu Xi accepts this, commenting: The moon is always round and has no eclipse in its form, but it is shining by receiving light from sunshine. The ancients believed always that the moon waxes and wanes, only Shen Kuo is correct in saying that the moon itself has no waxing and waning. (Zhu 1999, vol. 1: 19)

Thus we can see that Zhu Xi is quite clearly aware of the facts about sunlight and moonlight. Zhu Xi further makes the distinction between the subjectively constructed “moonlight having waxing and waning” and the objective “moon itself as always round.” As he says, “The moon itself has no waxing and waning, yet human beings see it as waxing and waning” (Zhu 1999, vol. 1: 19). Another example of Zhu Xi’s theories concerns the phenomenon of geological change. Shen Kuo has noted, Once I received a mission to Hebei province. I traveled along Mount Taihang and among the mountain cliffs I observed that there are always many oyster shells and stones in the form of bird eggs, inserted extensively like a belt in the mountain walls. This shows that it was there a seashore area in the old days, but now it is about a thousand li away from the East Sea, and all that we call land today was immersed by turbid mud before. (Shen 1987: [2] 756)

Here, Shen Kuo is not only expressing a sense of radical change, but also describing the geological phenomena of fossilization and sedimentation. It is reasonable to suppose that Zhu Xi has read about this and makes further deductions by referring to his own experiences, all in adding to it his explanations with his yin–yang theory, expressing into change from bottom to top, soft to solid. This is confirmed by Joseph Needham as an important paleontological and geographical finding in the sense that, as he says, Chu Hsi [Zhu Xi] recognized the fact that the mountains had been elevated since the day when the shells of the living animals had been buried in the soft sea bottoms.” (Needham 1959: 598)

In support of what he says, Joseph Needham quotes from Zhu Xi’s words: I have seen on high mountains conchs and oyster shells, often embedded in the rock. These rocks in ancient times were earth or mud, and the conchs and oysters lived in the water. Subsequently everything that was at the bottom come to be at the top, and what was originally soft become solid and hard. One should meditate deeply on such matters, for these facts can be verified. (Needham 1959: 598)

Thus, Zhu Xi talks about the archeological evidences of what he calls principle of interchange between yin and yang, here between sea and mountain, low and high, earth and rock, etc. From today’s perspective, these observations of Zhu Xi on the origins of mountains, seas and the phenomenon of crust movement are indeed very interestingly plausible. They show that Zhu Xi discusses the formation of oyster

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fossils and takes their discovery in high regions as empirical verification of his theory about crust movement and land–sea change. Zhu Xi’s emphasis on empirical verification reveals a certain scientific attitude, the merit of which is recognized by Joseph Needham who says that for Zhu Xi “these facts can be verified” (ibid.). Concerning the phenomenon of sea tides, Shen Kuo in the Notes and Discourse on the Dream River has previously commented that, Lu Zhao 盧肇 said that sea tides were stirred up by the rising and setting of the sun, but this is without any ground. . . . Once I studied its periodical motion, and found that the tides come to high water when the moon makes its meridian transit. If you wait for this moment you will never miss it. (Shen 1987: [2] 931)

Zhu Xi, who is familiar with Shen Kuo’s ideas, agrees with him in criticizing the sun theory and also posits the moon as the cause of sea tides. As Zhu Xi says, Sea tides have their permanent timing and momentum. In the old days I learned from someone from Mingzhou 明州 who said that the tides were influenced by the moon. This is quite reasonable. Shen Kuo also says so in his Mengxi Bitan. (Zhu 1999, vol. 1: 28)

Besides, Zhu Xi also posits explanations of many meteorological phenomena such as wind, rain, thunder, lightning, snow, frost and dew. Among these, it is interesting to note his explanation of the hexagonal form of snowflakes: The reason that snowflakes come out necessarily in hexagonal form is that when the hail in its process of falling down it is stricken by strong wind vehemently to the point of spreading out suddenly in a hexagonal shape. It is like a lump of mud being thrown on the ground and breaking into angular pieces. Also, six is a yin number. It is very much like the selenite stone which is also in hexagonal form. This is the natural number of heaven and earth. (Zhu 1999, vol. 1: 23)

Here Zhu Xi compares it with the act of throwing mud to help in understanding the process by which hail is transformed into snowflakes. On the dynamic side, this could be seen as understanding a natural phenomenon (here, a snowflake) by using a dynamic model (throwing mud on the ground). As to its structural side, Zhu Xi uses a stone in hexagonal form to help understand analogically the hexagonal structure of a snowflake. Zhu Xi’s use of dynamic and structural models or analogies to help in understanding natural phenomena has its element of rationality. Although his explanation may seem very naïve from today’s meteorological perspective, still we can see that his observation and reasoning have a certain rational merit. Another example is Zhu Xi’s explanation of the phenomenon of hailstone. Although sometimes he takes as “reliable” either account narrated by morally trustworthy persons or recorded in books and mentions that “the hailstone is produced by lizard” (Zhu 1999, vol. 1: 24–25), what he offers in fact is the “real philosophic reason” of it. He says, This is because of the mutual responsive affection of qi that makes it so. It is precisely at the moment when yin meets yang and they strive one with another, that is why when hailstones fall it is necessarily cold. Now the two sides of a hailstone are sharp and angular. Supposedly in the beginning they are round, but when yin and yang meet and strive one with another, they are stricken broken like this. Etymologically, the Chinese word for ‘hailstone’ (bao 雹) consists of the word ‘rain’ (yu 雨) and the word ‘contain’ (bao 包). This is because of the

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fact that a hailstone is shaped by qi’s containing rain. It is therefore named like this. (Zhu 1999, vol. 1: 25)

The above text makes it clear that, the explanation of hailstones given by Zhu Xi is in fact derived from his metaphysical theory of qi, or more precisely, his theory of “yin–yang interaction.” For this reason, he says that the lizard belongs to yin gender and it is the mutual responsive affection of qi that makes the lizard produce hailstones. In general, his notions of “mutual affective response of qi” and “meeting and striving between yin and yang” refer to his concepts of qi, yin, and yang in a more general sense and these form the conceptual scheme by which he explains the formation of hailstones. In today’s meteorological terms, the formation of hailstones is explained in the following way: a hailstone begins as a frozen rain droplet or snow pellet, carried upward by currents of warm air called updrafts. At the top of a cloud, hailstones freeze and attract more water, thereby getting heavier, and fall again to warmer levels, where their outside layers melt but are refrozen as a clear layer of ice when again carried to the cold top of a cloud. The hailstones continue to rise and fall, getting larger with each cycle, until they are too heavy for the updraft and therefore start to fall. We may take this process of rise and fall and the collision between warm cloud and cold cloud as a modern way of saying “the meeting and mutual affective response of qi” and “meeting and striving between yin and yang.” In this sense we can say that Zhu Xi’s hypothesis concerning hailstones, though expressed in obsolete terms, still has its element of rationality. The problem for Zhu Xi is that, living in the twelfth century, he could only use these vague and general terms which are relatively imprecise in their descriptive capacity; while he is right to believe in trustable knowledge by acquaintance, it is easy for his rationality to be compromised under the influence of morally trustworthy persons and records in books.

3 Seeing Things from Things Themselves: Investigation of Things The reason that we conduct the discussion of Zhu Xi’s methodology in analyzing his natural knowledge and his ideas about science and religion is that human curiosity about nature may lead human beings to go beyond themselves and towards the other, even to the Ultimate Other. That is why they need a method or methods to deal with the multiple alterity. If one has everything in one’s own mind/heart, this directness, immediacy and oneness with one’s mind/heart allow no space for any methods, except by intuition, which may be regarded as a method. What I mean by “the other” could be “other persons,” “Nature as the other,” or the “Ultimate Other,” and thus it is in fact “many others” in my own terms. For example, if one sees none of the many others but oneself in one’s own eyes, taking one’s own mind as the measure of all things and one’s subjectivity as absolute judge, then there will be no need for any method and no need to become curious about Nature and therefore no

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need of natural knowledge. Also, if one pays no respect to other persons, there will be no ethical dimension in one’s own life. If one does not open oneself to the Ultimate Other, then even if one has some religious feeling, this will not endure long before falling back into an immanentist humanism. Zhu Xi’s interest in natural knowledge is motivated philosophically by his idea that everything in the universe has its own principle (li 理). His concept of li means principle, reason or order . . . etc., existing in all things. He says, Up to the level of the Ultimate Infinite, the Great Ultimate, down to the tiny existence of one herb, one tree, one insect, each has its own principle. . . . if there is one things not yet investigated, then the principle of that thing is still wanting. (Zhu 1999, vol. 1: 295)

Philosophically, Zhu Xi puts his emphasis on the investigation of things and enquiry of principle. What he is in search of when he investigates and enquires are “the principles of heaven and earth, ghost and spirit, sun and moon, yin and yang, herb and tree, birds and animals” (ibid.: 287). Zhu Xi’s interest in natural knowledge should be understood in the philosophical context of his notion of the “investigation of things to extend knowledge.” For Zhu Xi, li or principle can be found in everything, and so everything is worthy of investigation. According to my interpretation, the object of Zhu Xi’s investigation of things is the principle existing out there in things, which presupposes, or contains an implicit recognition of a certain “otherness” of many things and their principles. Even if the particular principle inside one thing is not ontologically outside of that thing, yet, invisible and unknown to me, it is still in need of my investigation, thus there is still a kind of “cognitive otherness.” As to general principles, that is, principles involving a whole class of being (for example, human beings) or even of all beings, they are beyond one particular being, and therefore has not only cognitive but also “ontological otherness” beyond individual beings. As to the extension of knowledge, it should include both knowledge of many others and knowledge of self, both as physical and as personal. Human beings should embark on the detour of knowing many others first, in order to return to one’s self later, with the aim of becoming transparent and enlightened with oneself; or put another way, one could return to oneself via the detour of many others, so that one might finally get sudden insight into the nature of things and attain transparent self-­ knowledge. The investigation of things starts with many things out there, whereas the attainment of knowledge would include both knowledge of many things and knowledge of self, or better said, return to oneself via the detour of many others. That’s what Zhu Xi means when he says, All that is before our eyes is things and affairs. Just investigate one item after another somehow until the utmost is reached. As more and more is done, one will naturally achieve a far and wide penetration. That which serve as the converging point is the mind. (Chan 1973: 610)

Therefore, knowing the principles of things will come up with knowing the principle of one’s mind or self, since “Things and the mind share the same principle” (Chan 1973: 608).

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In summary, Zhu Xi’s “investigation of things” entails a process of detour by which one goes beyond one’s self to many others and then, by knowing many others, comes back to know one’s own mind/self. This is basic to Zhu Xi’s method of knowing things and oneself. The fact that the human being is curious about things and there is a need for the investigation of things presupposes the existence of many others, and it is therefore not reasonable to reduce knowledge to contents unfolded totally from one’s own mind. At the first glance, the reason why human beings should approach many things in order to investigate their principles consists in the fact that principles themselves are invisible while things are equipped with material form and thus easily visible. Therefore, we should inquire about invisible principles and have access to them through the mediation of visible things. As Zhu Xi says, The investigation of things is for the purpose of inquiring their principles. The fact that there is such a thing implies necessarily that there is such a principle. Yet, principles are invisible and hard to recognize, and things have physical form and are easily visible, therefore we should inquire about principles through things. In this way, when principles are understood through our eyes and in our mind without any tiny distance, then we can cope with things without any error. (Zhu 2000, vol. 2: 409, my translation)

However, in the process of knowing, there is an unavoidable relation between things known and knowing subject, the knower and the known, which should not be reduced to the mere psychic activities of the knowing subject. Zhu Xi, being conscious of this, says, What we call knowing is in my mind, whereas what we call principles are in things and events. From myself here to things to be known over there, there must be the relation of subject and object. . . . If we interpret the ‘investigation of things’ merely as ‘contact with things,’ then there is still something we do not understand about the ultimate truth. Everyone has contact with things, but some would contact them without investigating them, or investigate them carelessly without investigating them to the ultimate degree; therefore even if they are in contact with things, still they do not understand their principles. They do not know the reason why, the ought-to-be, of things. If you say that once we have contact with things all principles are thereby exhausted, it is too easy to be possible. (Zhu 2000, vol. 5: 1969)

Since the relation between subject and object is not to be reduced, there should be first an act of going beyond oneself on the subject’s part in order to have contact with many things as objects; yet, if there is only contact with many things without investigating their principles, the objective of attaining knowledge could not be achieved. Since principles need to be investigated in order to enter into our realm of knowledge, then regarding things unknown and not-yet-knowing subjects, there must be in some sense imbued with some “otherness” to be overcome by our act of strangification understood as an act going beyond ourselves toward the other. Therefore, the process of knowing is seen as a process of strangification. Thus, when Zhu Xi says that one has to “see things from things themselves” (yi wu guan wu 以物觀物), he means, on the one hand, one should respect the objectivity and otherness of things under investigation; on the other hand, one should study the principle of that thing that make the way it is. In this sense, principle could also be seen as kind of “otherness.” In short, we can call “things” as the “real other” or the “horizontal other,” and we should go beyond ourselves to these things first in

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order to keep in contact with them. As to “principles,” they can be seen as a kind of “ideal other” or “vertical other,” and we should make efforts to arrive at these by going beyond all kinds of particularity, materiality and concreteness in order to achieve universality, ideality and abstractness. That is to say, there are different layers or degrees of knowledge, and we should move through them from the shallow to the deep, from the superficial to the core, from the low to the high. The most important concepts of Zhu Xi’s philosophy are li (principle or reason) and qi (vital force). Li means reason or principle of each thing, while there are also common or general principles, and, more than these, the Great Ultimate in ancient Chinese philosophy is also interpreted by him as li.4 Thus, there are three kinds of principle. First, each thing has its own principle, such as Zhu Xi says, “if there is a thing, there is its own principle” (Zhu 1999, vol. 1: 289). That is why he encourages his students to investigate one thing after another. This kind of principle can be called “ontic principle.” Second, common principle of a class of beings, even of all beings. For Zhu Xi, humanity, righteousness, propriety, wisdom, and trustfulness are the principles governing all human beings, Zhu Xi says that “human nature is principle (xing ji li 性即理)” (Zhu 1999, vol. 1: 67). Also there is the common principle for all under heaven [tian xia gong gong zhi li 天下公共之理] (Zhu 1999, vol. 6: 2372). All these can be called general principle. Third, principle as the Ultimate Realty. Zhu Xi says, “the Great Ultimate is nothing other than One Principle, because of its being supreme and ultimate, it is named as the Great Ultimate,” “the Great Ultimate is the principle of that which is the highest good and supremely best” (Zhu 1999, vol. 6: 2371). For this, we may call it the ontological principle. In fact, Zhu Xi, under critical eyes of today’s philosophy of language, has sometimes confused the three meanings of li: li as the Ultimate Reality (ontological), li as common principles (general), and li as particular principles (ontic). On the physical level, each and every thing has its own particular li. On human and ethical level, li becomes the common principle of human nature. Here the five constant virtues are the li of human nature (humanness, righteousness, propriety, wisdom and faithfulness) which, when expressed, become those good feelings (of commiseration, of shame and dislike, of deference and compliance, of right and wrong . . . etc.). On the ontic level, li is very much like Aristotelian form, and it is here that is correct for Fung Yu-lan to interpret li in terms of the Aristotelian form, and qi as matter. 5 However, Zhu Xi’s li is different from Aristotle’s form in the sense that, for Zhu Xi, li is also the common principles for all human beings, and, moreover, li is also the Ultimate Reality; while for Aristotle, form is not the common principle for all human beings and all things under heaven, not to say that form is not the ultimate 4  I accept, only partly, Brook Ziporyn’s interpretation of li as coherence (see Ziporyn 2013). “Coherence” touches upon the ontic and the general name aspects of li, or in other words, the logical and formal aspect of li. However, it does not touch upon li as the ultimate reality. For me, it is hard to conceive coherence as representing the ultimate reality, especially in its dynamic process, while Zhu Xi says it clearly that “the Great Ultimate is li,” and that li could produce another universe. 5  For example, Fung says, “Ch’i [Qi] . . . is the basic material from which concrete things ae produced, and to which li or Principle supplies the form. This ‘material’ is equivalent to what Plato and Aristotle term matter” (Fung 1973: 547).

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reality. By contrast, Zhu Xi says also that the Great Ultimate is li, therefore li is also the Ultimate Reality, for it, all other lis are but different manifestations of the same Ultimate Reality—thus his saying that “The Principle is one, whereas its manifestations are many—(li yi fen shu 理一分殊).” For Zhu Xi, li and qi are in very complicated relationship. First, li (principle, reason) is a metaphysical reality, whereas qi (vital force) is a physical reality, therefore they are different. Theoretically, li could exist without qi. Even when this universe is destroyed, another universe could be produced according to principle. Second, in its actual operation, li cannot be separated from qi. Altogether, they constitute all things in their concrete existence. As Zhu Xi says, “li operates by attaching itself to the qi” (Zhu 1999, vol. 6: 2376). Only on this level, li and qi seem to be similar to Aristotle’s concepts of form and matter. It is a truism that we human should always go beyond ourselves and move towards many others out there, to investigate many things and to inquire about their principles. Then we will be able to proceed to understand general principle that includes human nature and things of all under heaven. In this way, we are able to return to ourselves with self-understanding and thereby enlighten our own true selfhood. The vision that one can return to one’s self through the detour of many others and achieve self-understanding through inquiring about the principles of many things, that one can ultimately attain sudden enlightenment by investigating one thing after another, presupposes that between principles of things and principles of mind there must be some co-naturality, interrelatedness and responsiveness. The principles of co-naturality, interrelatedness, and responsiveness, which cannot be elaborated here, should be seen as basic presuppositions of the compatibility, complementarity and communicability among difference principles and things. These are the basic presuppositions of Zhu Xi’s philosophy. It suffices here to point out that, because of these basic presuppositions, Zhu Xi’s tendency to reduce differences in the interest of unity is much stronger than his tendency to respect differences in themselves or even to let others just be others.

4 Zhu Xi’s Naturalist and Non-substantialist Vision of the Ghosts and Spirits However, a question remains: with this critical naturalist methodological attitude in his mind, does his concern with nature and his intellectual curiosity about many others bring him to an inquiry of the Ultimate Other? As regards the religious matters, Zhu Xi’s naturalism allowed him to discuss the phenomena of ghosts and spirits (gui shene 鬼神) under non-substantial naturalist conceptual framework, nevertheless he is still very concerned with and possessed of deep religious feeling. Still, with this critical attitude, the philosophical system he has achieved under his core concepts of li and qi is more a system of immanence rather than transcendence. To say it more explicitly, his critical naturalist interpretation of the Great Ultimate as li deprives his concept of the Ultimate Reality of Ultimate Otherness, though not without openness to it. Also he tends to explain the phenomena of ghosts and spirits by appealing to his

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theory of qi. Although we would not go so far as to say that Zhu Xi is without openness to the Ultimate Other, his naturalist rational system, finally, brought him to a self-consistent and self-reliant immanent system of thought in which the Ultimate Other tends to be reduced rather than allowing Its ambiguity and unfathomability. As to the problem of ghost and spirits, unlike common people who tend to see them as belonging to the order of Ultimate Reality, Zhu Xi sees them as only belonging to natural phenomena. Thus he treats them in a naturalist way, in explaining and interpreting their meaning by appealing to his theory of qi and also that of li. For Zhu Xi, the phenomena of ghosts and spirits are but the growth and diminishing, stretching and contracting of qi according to the rhythmic change of yin and yang. He said, “Ghost and spirits are nothing but the growth and diminution of yin and yang” (Zhu 1999, vol. 1: 34). And, “Ghosts and spirits are but qi. Those which stretch and contract, come and go, are but qi” (ibid.). More specifically, the stretching of qi is spirit, whereas the contraction of qi is ghost: “Spirit (shen 神) means to stretch (sheng 申 [a homophone]), whereas ghost means to contract.” (ibid.) In this sense, according to Zhu Xi, ghosts and spirits belong to natural phenomena and should not be seen as supernatural, not to say the Ultimate Reality. Further, Zhu Xi sees ghosts and spirits as more sophisticated phenomenon in the process of becoming of qi’s stretching and contracting, growing and diminishing, coming and going, movement and rest . . . etc. As he says, Wind and rain, dew and thunder, sun and moon, day and night, all these are traces of ghosts and spirits. . . . They are either beings or non-beings, coming or going, concentrating or dispersing. Besides, there are cases in which one prays and is responded to, one beseeches and gets what one wants, and these are also called ghosts and spirits. The principle of them is all the same. All events in the world appear under the same principle, but they might be different in being sophisticated or raw, big or small. (Zhu 1999, vol. 1: 34–35)

In general, we can say that Zhu Xi perceives ghosts and spirits as part of the principle or li of the becoming of qi, therefore part of the natural world. Instead of supposing ghost and spirits as sort of physical substances, he explains them in terms of the non-substantialist principle of qi’s becoming, saying that the concentration and dispersion of qi have their mysterious and sophisticated traces. The concentration of qi explains the emergence of life, whereas its dispersion explains the occurrence of death. The phenomenon of ghost can be understood as the returning of qi once concentrated and dispersed. Although qi has its period of concentration and its period of dispersion, the principle of its concentration and dispersion is always there and can be evoked to re-appear again. Zhu Xi even says that human descendants, through sincerity of prayer and ritual in sacrificial offerings, can feel and respond to the presence of the spirits of their ancestry. The reason for this consists in the fact that the principle by which the qi of their ancestry once concentrated and dispersed exists always. By reason of their homogeneity and responsiveness, descendants could have mutual affective response with them because of the sincerity and piety of their sacrifices. Zhu Xi says, Human being and all things share the same qi under heaven and earth. When qi concentrates, there is human life; when it disperses, there it becomes ghosts. But even when qi is dispersed, its rhythmic change by yin and yang in the universe continues to reproduce itself unceasingly. Even if the spirits and souls of ancestry are dispersed, their descendants’ souls and spirits still keep some resemblance with it. Therefore, when following the li of sacrifi-

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cial offerings by doing them with sincerity and respect, the souls of ancestry can be reached. This kind of thing is hard to say. When we see it seemingly becomes nothing after having been dispersed, yet when one can do it with the highest sincerity and respect, then one can still feel and reach them. The reason of this is that its principle exists always there. (Zhu 1999, vol. 1: 46, my translation)

In short, there is the principle of concentration and dispersion of qi, but, under his critical naturalism, there is no substance of ghosts and spirits. Zhu Xi does not look at the existence of ghosts and spirits from a substantialist point of view. Instead, he takes a non-substantialist position and explains them by his rationalist system of li and qi. For him, ghosts and spirits are but manifestations of the principle of concentration and dispersion, stretching and contracting, movement and rest, by which the homogeneous qi of descendants can reach and render re-stretched the once dispersed qi of their ancestry with their sincerity and respect. Concerning whether or not there is a high God or spiritual ruler of heaven and earth, Zhu Xi takes the same critical non-substantialist position. With a critical attitude, he does not presume the existence of a spiritual divine substance governing the whole universe. The following is a text that clearly shows his critical, rationalist, non-substantialist attitude. Someone once asks him, “Is the Mind of heaven and earth spiritually intelligent or not? Or is it merely there apathetically taking no action?” Zhu Xi answered, “We should not say that the Mind of heaven and earth is not spiritually intelligent, but we can just say that it does not think and deliberate as human beings do.” (ibid.: 4)

On the other hand, Zhu Xi takes li as the Ultimate Reality, and it is allowable for him to call li the ruler of heaven and earth. Here it is clear that he tries to avoid any anthropomorphic vision of the Mind of the universe. He says, [T]he so-called Mind inherently has the meaning of rulership, but what we call ruler is but the li (principle), not that there is a principle outside of the Mind or a Mind outside of the principle. (ibid.)

And again, The so-called di 帝 (God on high) is the principle taking the role as ruler. (ibid.: 5)

For Zhu Xi, the non-substantial li or principle is the ruler of the universe. Li is a sort of non-substantial Ultimate Reality. However, he is against any vision that looks on li as a kind of intelligent person that can think and judge the good and evil in the world. In his words, The blue sky on high moves circularly without end . . . we cannot say there is someone who is judging evil deeds up there; although we cannot say there is no ruler up there, either. (ibid.)

Zhu Xi means to say that in the universe, there is some non-substantial, non-­ personal ruler, which is the li, but not a personal God. According to Zhu Xi, li is the Great Ultimate, therefore it represents for him the Ultimate Reality. In my view, however, recognizing the li as Ultimate Reality does not mean unambiguously that the Ultimate Other exists. Here we make the distinction between “Ultimate Reality” and “Ultimate Other.” In all religions and philoso-

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phies there is always some sort of Ultimate Reality, like the Heaven in Confucianism, the Dao in Daoism, the Emptiness or the One Mind in Buddhism, God in Christianity . . . etc. But what we mean by “Ultimate Other” is more like an unfathomable Dao, or Hidden God, or Deus Absconditus, etc., which is beyond any Divinity man can conceive, even beyond any human religious or philosophical construction. The Ultimate Other, even when revealing itself, keeps always some alterity, some unrevealedness, some unfathomability. However, for Zhu Xi, li is the Ultimate Reality, but not the Ultimate Other. Nevertheless, we should say that in his younger days Zhu Xi does seem to have been attracted by the Ultimate Other. According to the Bibliography of Zhu Xi in the History of Song Dynasty (Song Shi: Zhu Xi Zhuan 宋史朱熹傳), for example, when Zhu Xi learns to talk as a child, his father points to the sky and tells Zhu Xi “That is Heaven,” to which Zhu Xi responds, “What is there beyond Heaven?” And later in life, when he gave commentary to Zhou Dunyi’s 周敦頤 Explanation to the Diagram of Taiji (Taiji tushuo 太極圖說), he reads right from the beginning “the Infinite Ultimate therefore the Great Ultimate.” These instances show that Zhu Xi is in fact open to the Ultimate Other. However, his final philosophical system is achieved through the building up of his theory of li and qi, and there he interprets the Great Ultimate as li. As Julia Ching has well pointed out, “The concept of the Great Ultimate (taiji) marks the climax of Zhu’s philosophical system . . . the concept became famous especially with his own contributions, which transformed its meaning by relating it to li and qi” (Ching 2000: 33). Although Zhu Xi’s concept of the Great Ultimate is not totally deprived of an openness to the Ultimate Other, his philosophical system is more like a system of immanence than transcendence, in which li serves as the Ultimate Reality and there is no place for the Ultimate Other. We should notice here that, philosophically speaking, the term “Great Ultimate” as used by Zhu Xi is not totally without any ambiguity. Sometimes, what Zhu Xi means by the “Great Ultimate” denotes the Ultimate Reality. In this case, those particular principles of all other concrete beings such as natural beings and human beings would be seen merely as participative manifestations of the Great Ultimate. The relation between particular principles of particular beings and the Great Ultimate is, as Zhu Xi puts it metaphorically, like the moon itself and all moons reflected on ten thousand lakes and rivers. This kind of part–whole relation is expressed in the saying that “Principle is one yet manifestations are many.” As to particular manifestations, each human being and each natural being have their own principle which becomes thereby the nature of that particular being. As to the totality, the whole universe has a common principle which Zhu Xi sees as the Ultimate Reality. Normally Zhu Xi does not call particular principles the Great Ultimate, but, since they are all principles, no matter whether particular ones or the common one, he sometimes confuses the common principle with particular principles as when he says, “each person is a Great Ultimate, each thing is an Ultimate Great.” In summary, we can say that, although Zhu Xi does not exclude some openness to the Ultimate Other, what he himself has achieved with his critical naturalism is a philosophical system of immanence built upon li and qi. His interpretation of the Great Ultimate as li, while integrating the Ultimate Reality into his system and

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indeed letting it become the leading core of his system, in the meanwhile loses sight of the otherness of the other or the hiddenness and the unfathomability of the Ultimate Other. I would say that, concerning the relation of human being with the Ultimate Other, we should always keep an eye on both the manifested side and the unrevealed side of the Ultimate Reality, which would thereby enable us to have a more balanced discourse on religion.

5 Conclusion: Towards the Dimension of the Other From the above discussions, it is now clear that Zhu Xi’s notion of the “investigation of things to inquire into their principles” is well imbued with scientific attitude that constitutes his critical naturalism. His method of inquiry into natural phenomena consists mainly in reading books, observations (implicitly with the intention of verification or falsification), reasoning and practical experiences. As to the conclusions he draws from his inquiry, some can serve only to hypothesize a higher level of generality, and some are indeed natural knowledge and scientific theory of very good scientific quality. There are three points in his methodology that warrant our special attention: 1. Zhu Xi’s criticism and correction of existing theories reveal a certain reasonableness and rationality. One point of interest is that he takes whether or not a feasible model of a theory could be formed as a criterion to measure its rationality. He takes Floating Sky theory as reasonable because it has been modeled in the armillary sphere, but this is not the case for Covering Sky theory. Even if Covering Sky theory can produce a model in the form of an umbrella, this is not reasonable due to the fact that an umbrella cannot prevent the wind from leaking. From Zhu Xi’s use of structural and dynamic analogies in his explanation of the hexagonal form of snowflakes, we can say that Zhu Xi’s mode of observation and reasoning about natural phenomena contains its own rationality. 2. Zhu Xi’s observations on natural phenomena are methodical and his reasoning is probable. His scientific attitude is shown by the fact that he verifies his theories with empirical evidence, as, for example, when he uses the empirical evidence of oyster shells to verify his theory about geological change. When it comes to empirical evidences, Zhu Xi seems to be very good at making empirical observations, sometimes with and sometimes without the help of instruments, such as an armillary sphere, but he never uses systematic experimentation to collect empirical data. The problem is that he often takes as reliable data reports about knowledge by acquaintance either narrated by morally trustworthy persons or recorded in books, and in doing so he gets confused, as in the case when he says that hailstones are produced by lizards. 3. Concerning the propositions of theories, Zhu Xi relies upon his philosophy of qi to deduce other more derivative and particular theories. He explains both natural and human phenomena by his philosophy of li and qi. This presupposes a vision of the world ruled by the principle of similarity, the principle of relatedness and

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the principle of responsiveness, by which different things and their reasons are compatible and communicable one with another, and the human being can unify them into one comprehensive understanding through making unceasing effort in the investigation of things and through self-cultivation. Not only Zhu Xi but also traditional Chinese philosophers in general cherish the idea that all beings in the universe, both human and otherwise, are immersed in co-­ naturality, interrelatedness and responsiveness and that human beings should and can reach the Ultimate Reality through their intimate experience with it based on these principles. Most Chinese philosophers tend to think that human existence is internally related to heaven and that this internal relationship is an essential constituent of the human being, comprised of the human heart, human reason, or human inborn knowledge and ability, which, through a process of self-cultivation, extension, and fulfillment, can be fully realized in human perfection. All of this is quite warming to the human heart and very encouraging for human existence. But the overwhelming emphasis on the co-naturality, interrelatedness and responsiveness among all things, which characterizes Zhu Xi’s and most Chinese philosophers’ vision of the world, should be balanced by a contrasting vision of the transcendence and the otherness of reality. Because of the above presuppositions, Zhu Xi’s investigations of things tends to focus on the unity of all things rather than their difference and alterity. Yet paying attention to differences leads to recognition and respect of the otherness of other beings, which leads in turn to our showing unconditional generosity toward them. This problem is not limited to Zhu Xi’s philosophy. There seems to be a line of development in the history of Chinese philosophy which has led to immanentism to the neglect of the other or many others. Today, how to promote respect for difference, generosity towards the other and the liberality of letting the other be other, are essential questions for the future development of Chinese culture. In other words, how to open the dimension of the other, or better, that of many others, and generosity towards them, is the most important task facing Chinese culture in its march towards the future. Let me say a few words of conclusion to our discussion of Zhu Xi’s methodology. The case of Zhu Xi clearly demonstrates the truism Aristotle also sustains, that human reason is by nature curious to know all things. Our desire for natural knowledge is surely an inner dynamism that pushes us to go beyond ourselves and to go towards many others. Humankind’s commitment to natural science is surely an enterprise of strangification by which we go beyond ourselves to the physical many others. Natural sciences, when done with self-awareness, may be helpful in some sense for human being to achieve self-understanding, even to the point of achieving a unifying understanding of things and self via the co-naturality, relatedness and responsiveness of the universe. Nevertheless, this rational attitude of natural sciences can at its best construct a rational system of immanence, and will lose its dynamism of continuing its openness to the Ultimate Other, if we human do not continue unceasingly to open ourselves to many others. Without openness to the Ultimate Other, human religious feeling might become a hopeless cry borne of a feeling of internally drifting, bound within immanence, without any outlet. We should say that the unconditional generosity constitutes the foundation of ethics,

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whereas the longing for the Ultimate Other constitutes the essence of religious spirit. On these two levels, Chinese philosophy should reopen its mind and make new progress after having achieved so much in its long history.

References Chan, Wing-tsit, trans. and comp. 1973. A Source Book in Chinese Philosophy. Princeton: Princeton University Press. (A most reliable source book in Chinese Philosophy with a good selection of Zhu Xi’s texts.) Ching, Julia. 2000. The Religious Thought of Chu Hsi. Oxford: Oxford University Press. (Best account of Zhu Xi’s religious thought and related matters by a woman scholar.) Fung, Yu-lan. 1973. A History of Chinese Philosophy, vol. 2. Translated by Derk Bodde. Princeton: Princeton University Press. (A good account of Zhu Xi’s philosophy in its historical context.) Kim, Yung Sik. 2000. The Natural Philosophy of Chu Hsi (1130–1200). American Philosophical Association, Memoirs Series. Vol. 235. (A study on Zhu Xi’s natural knowledge and philosophy based mainly on the method of textual analysis.) Needham, Joseph. 1959. Science and Civilization in China, vol. 3. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. (Most systematic historical account of Chinese science and technology.) Shen, Kuo 沈括. 1987. Notes and Discourse on the Dream River 夢溪筆談. Proofread and interpretated by Hu Daojing. Shanghai 上海: Shanghai Guji Publishing Company 上海古籍出版社. (A good proofread version with very detailed commentary on Shen Kuo’s Mengxi Bitan.) Zhu, Xi 朱熹. 1967. Collected Commentaries on the Songs of Chu State 楚辭集注. Taipei 臺 北: Yiwen Publishing House 台北藝文印書館. (A very good edition of Zhu Xi’s Collected Commentaries on the Songs of Chu State.) ———. 1999. Master Zhu’s Collected Conversations 朱子語類. Edited by Li Jingde 黎靖德, punctuated and proofread by Wang Xingxian 王星賢. Beijing 中華書局: Zhonghua Bookstore 中華書局. (A very good and trustable edition of Zhu Xi’s Master Zhu’s Collected Conversations in traditional Chinese.) ———. 2000. Collected Writings of Master Zhu 朱子文集, Chapter 13. Proofread by Chen Junming 陳俊民. Taipei 臺北: Defu Culture and Education Foundation 德富文教基金會. (A very good edition, very easily readable edition of Collected Writings of Master Zhu.) Ziporyn, Brook. 2013. Beyond Oneness and Difference: Li and Coherence in Chinese Buddhist Thought and Its Antecedents. Albany: State University of New York Press. (A philosophical and historical account of the concept of li in Chinese philosophy, interpreting it as coherence.) Vincent Shen held the Lee Chair in Chinese Thought and Culture at the Department of Philosophy and Department of East Asian Studies, University of Toronto. His research interests were in the areas of Chinese and comparative philosophy, phenomenology, and philosophical problems of technology, culture, and religion. He recently passed away.  

Part IV

Comparative Perspective

Chapter 28

Zhu Xi and Buddhism Kam-por Yu

1 Introduction As Chan Buddhism, with the popularist Pure Land School aside, was the dominant version of Buddhism in Song dynasty (Ch’en 1964: 389, 398), Zhu Xi’s understanding and critique of Buddhism was mainly directed toward Chan Buddhism (Lao 1980, vol. 3B: 326). Though Zhu Xi had been attracted to Buddhism and had studied Buddhism seriously during his early years, his knowledge of Buddhism was mainly confined to the dominant school of Buddhism in his time, i.e., Chan Buddhism, and with the leading monk-scholar Dahui Zonggao 大慧宗杲 (1089–1163) as his major imagined opponent (Ariki 2008: 203). The works of Dahui Zonggao had been very close to the heart of Zhu Xi when he was young, and he had been a student of the Buddhist monk Daoqian 道謙 (c. 1093–1185), who was the dharma heir of Dahui Zonggao (Ariki 2008: 204). Dahui Zonggao belongs to the Linji 臨濟 house of Chan Buddhism, which is one of five houses of Chan Buddhism and the most influential one in the time of Zhu Xi.1 Hence Zhu Xi’s comments on the differences between Confucianism and Buddhism are basically on the differences between Confucianism and Chan Buddhism (or a leading school in Chan Buddhism), and his comments are very influential on later Neo-Confucians, whose comments on this topic are basically taken over from Zhu Xi (Qian 2011, vol. 1: 27; Ding 2011: 544–48).

1  Of the five houses of Chan Buddhism, namely, Linji 臨濟, Caodong 曹洞, Guiyang 潙仰, Yunmen 雲門, and Fayen 法眼, “the first two were the most important, while the remaining three never enjoyed a large following and soon disappeared from the scene” (Ch’en 1964: 357).

K.-p. Yu (*) General Education Centre, Hong Kong Polytechnic University, Hong Kong, People’s Republic of China e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2020 K.-c. Ng, Y. Huang (eds.), Dao Companion to ZHU Xi’s Philosophy, Dao Companions to Chinese Philosophy 13, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-29175-4_28

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Zhu Xi’s critique of Buddhism can shed light on what he regards as most important in Confucianism. It has often been argued that Neo-Confucianism had been influenced by Buddhism. Zhu Xi does not deny that there are some merits in Buddhism, and there are some things that Confucianism can learn from Buddhism. Moreover, the kind of Buddhism that has influenced Neo-Confucianism was the kind of Buddhism that has been seriously Sinicized or Confucianized (Ch’en 1973: 5), so the influence by Buddhism does not necessarily mean a deviation or betrayal of classical Confucianism. This chapter is a comparative study of Confucianism and Buddhism through the lens of Zhu Xi. Zhu Xi discusses Buddhism mainly in two parts of his works: the collected sayings, namely, Zhuji Yulei 朱子語類 (Zhu 1986), where he answers questions raised by his students or friends, and Zhuji Wenji 朱子文集 (the Collected Writings) (Zhu 2010), where he exchanges views with others, mainly through letters.

2 Lessons from Buddhism Most of the remarks on Buddhism made by Zhu Xi are critical in nature. But it is important to take note of Zhu Xi’s appreciation of Buddhism, and the ways he finds Confucianism can learn from Buddhism. Compared with Buddhism, or Chan Buddhism, in particular, Confucianism in Zhu Xi’s time was more something to learn than something to live by. Dahui Zonggao, for example, criticized the attitudes of the Confucian scholars at that time who studied for examination and worldly recognition, and overlooked “the great matter of life and death” and engaged in “losing oneself in chasing after things” (Ariki 2008: 212–14). Zhu Xi is impressed by the way Chan Buddhism takes one’s own life seriously and offers not a philosophy to talk about but a philosophy to live by. This is an aspect that Zhu Xi speaks highly positively of Buddhism, and a feature that Confucians should learn from Buddhism in order to revitalize Confucianism. In Zhu Xi’s words: The Buddhists consistently get rid of many things, and only care about one’s self-being (zishenji 自身己). Although its teaching is wrong, it is meaningful to emphasize the care of one’s self-being. So for them, the human is always there (changyouren 常有人), but for us [the Confucians] the human is often missing. Among the Confucians today, those who uphold the classics just understand and talk, and those who study history just calculate benefits and harms. For them [the Buddhists], they surely care about their own self-being (shenji 身己), and work hard on their own self-being (zijia shenji 自家身己). You don’t even care your own self-being like them, and you dare to criticize them! (Zhu 1986: [8] 141)

Sure enough, Zhu Xi does not agree with the content of the Buddhist teachings, but the kind of life-oriented, soul-searching quest for meaning in Buddhism is regarded by Zhu Xi as profoundly correct and valuable, and the approach that a true Confucian should take. In the above passage, the expressions “shenji,” “zishenji,” “zijia shenji,” “youren” all refer to such a life-oriented, soul-searching quest for the

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meaning of one’s own life. In such a way, the point of learning is not to impress other people, to get external benefits, or to acquire knowledge about the world, but to gain understanding of the self. This kind of pursuit has its ground on human existence, and the purpose is to become an enlightened human being. In spite of Zhu Xi’s criticisms of Buddhism, he has a lot of admiration of this life-oriented feature of Buddhism, and he deplores that such an approach was not adopted by the Confucians at his time. Given Zhu Xi ‘s passionate advocacy of such a life-oriented approach, it does not seem unfair to say that revitalizing such an approach in Confucianism is an important part in Zhu Xi revitalization of Confucianism. In such a life-oriented approach, the masters who understand the Way and transmit the Way are not less important than the classics in which words about the Way are recorded. Zhu Xi expresses very strong appreciation of the Buddhist monks who have strong personality, take their own lives very seriously, insist to be true to themselves, and display immense “bravery” in their life—a word which Zhu uses a lot in commending the Buddhist monks (Ching 2000: 183). Commenting on the Buddhist saying “a thousand kinds of saying, a myriad types of explanation, all aim at telling you not to be deceived (bumei 不昧),” Zhu Xi says, “This saying is excellent.” When further asked whether this is what he means by saying that the Buddhist teaching is close to the truth (jin li 近理), he replies, “yes indeed” (Zhu 1986: [126] 3016). Zhu says that Confucianism and Buddhism are quite similar and also very different. The quest for an honest answer to the question of life is the big similarity. For the Buddhists, the honest answer is a kind of disillusion and detachment. For the Confucians, it is a kind of self-understanding, self-­ affirmation, and self-conscious commitment. It is in the same way that Zhu Xi appreciates his “rival” Lu Jiuyuan 陸九淵 (1139–1192). Though Zhu Xi criticizes Lu to be too close to Chan Buddhism, Lu’s merit is also in pursuing a learning for life: “There is no one south of the Yangtze River whose two feet stand on the ground as firmly as Lu” (Zhu 1986: [124] 2969; quoted in Chan 1987: 8). The expression “standing firmly on the ground” refers to a positive feature in Lu’s teaching, which is its existentialist and life-oriented approach. Zhu is proud that he himself also adopts such an approach. When someone belittled Lu, Zhu Xi replied in a letter, “Since our capital moved south, only Lu and I have had our feet firmly on the ground and understand what real practice is. I really respect him as a person. You should not lightly criticize him” (Lu 1980: 507; quoted in Chan 1987: 8). In spite of the differences and disputes between Zhu and Lu, they are closer to each other than they are with other scholars in terms of regarding Confucianism as a philosophy to live with than a philosophy to learn, described by Zhu as standing “firmly on the ground” or engaging in “real practice” (shi gongfu 實功夫). Such a life-oriented philosophy has become a distinctive feature of Song Confucianism (known as Neo-Confucianism in the West), as contrasted with Han Confucianism, which puts the emphasis on the learning of Confucian books or classics. While Lu thinks that Zhu does not go far enough, Zhu thinks that Lu has gone too far (in shifting the emphasis from reading and studying books to reflecting and examining one’s life). Both of them share the view that the goal of Confucian learning is to u­ nderstand

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one’s own mind and nature and to put what one truly understands into practice, though Zhu still insists that reading the Confucian classics is an indispensable step in the process of such learning. Besides the life-oriented approach, Zhu Xi also appreciates the orientation of Buddhism, or more accurately, Chan Buddhism, in looking inward, searching for the truth inside oneself, emphasizing on self-understanding, self-examination, facing one’s heart-mind, and realizing one’s true nature. As Zhu admits: At the time of Emperor Zhongzong (656–710) of Tang dynasty, the Sixth Patriarch [Huineng 惠能] (638–713) worked specifically on one’s self-being (shenshang 身上), and straightly wanted to seek the heart-mind and realize the nature (qiuxin jianxing 求心見性). The scholar-officials who wanted to work internally (xiangli 向裡) all went to him without exception. (Zhu 1986: [137] 3274)

The approach of “looking inward” or “working internally” is typical of Chan Buddhism, and it is also an approach advocated by Zhu Xi. In contrasting with Buddhism, Zhu Xi still describes Confucianism in the following words: “The teaching of Confucianism takes reverence (jing 敬) as the basis, and reaches completion by thorough investigation of li 理” (Zhu 1986: [126] 3016). It is clear that this is also an “internal” approach. The Confucians and the Buddhists are similar in working hard to get away from obstacles resulting from their personal desires, but they are different with regards to what they deem as most important and worth striving for. The Confucians also emphasize “using rightness as a measure for the external (yi yi fangwai 義以方外),” but the part of “using reverence to straighten the internal (jing yi zhinei 敬以直內)” is the same as the Buddhists (Zhu 1986: [126] 3015). As the Buddhists seek internally, they make an effort to have internal cultivation, which is quite comparable to the Confucians’ quest for the cultivation of virtue. As Zhu Xi noted, “The Buddhists make really serious effort on their heart-mind (yu xindishang shaxia gongfu 於心地上煞下工夫)” (Zhu 1986: [125] 2991). Such a Buddhist approach is taken by Zhu as commendable, containing resources that Confucians as true Confucians can also make use of and learn from, or at least sources of inspiration for reviving original insights in Confucianism through the stimulation of and interaction with Buddhism.

3 Critique of Buddhism: Metaphysical Zhu Xi approves both the orientation and the approach of Buddhism—the orientation that is based on one’s own life, and the approach of seeking internally to find out the answer to the question of life. However, there are very significant differences beyond such basic similarities. As a result, Zhu’s attitude toward Buddhism is partly affirmative and partly negative. He holds that there is apparent similarity but there are some very crucial differences. The difference may be small, but highly significant. “The views that we Confucians have controversy with the Chan ­

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Buddhists are only in small details but in the deep parts (shenchu 深處) (Zhu 1986: [8] 1030). Since Han Yu 韓愈 (768–824), the major Confucian critique of Buddhism has been an ethical one. Zhu Xi enhances the critique to the metaphysical level. He goes beyond the traditional and perennial Confucian critique of Buddhism, and has something new to say. This is a major contribution of Zhu Xi, and an innovative development in the Confucian critique of Buddhism. Zhu Xi holds that an ethical critique of Buddhism is not enough, and the critique has to be made at a more fundamental level. The people who criticize Buddhism today all base on morality and benefit (yili 義利) to differentiate [between Buddhism and Confucianism]. This is of secondary importance (di er yi 第二義).. .. Buddhism adopts the perspective of emptiness (kong 空). Such a perspective is wrong, and so everything [in this perspective] is wrong. Morality and benefit are not adequate as a guide for the differentiation [between Buddhism and Confucianism]! (Zhu 1986: [126] 3040)

Zhu said it very clearly that a mere ethical critique, which is limited to proper conduct and beneficial outcome (“morality and benefit”), is not adequate to explain what is philosophically wrong with Buddhism, and hence of only “secondary importance.” In order to explain why Buddhism is wrong, it is necessary to point out a more fundamental error. Zhu Xi regards the biggest problem of Buddhism as denying the reality or denying the world. He regards such a view as the major characteristic of Buddhism, and hence the mistake is right at the heart of Buddhism. The Buddhist view is that everything is empty (wu 無). The past is empty. The present is also empty. “The form is emptiness, and emptiness is the form.” As big as the myriad things or as small as the hundred bones and the nine holes are all regarded as empty. (Zhu 1986: [126] 3012)

Unlike the Confucians who affirm Heaven and Earth as well as human nature as real and a source of value, “the Buddhists regard Heaven and Earth as illusory. All that are made up of the four elements are just falsely put together. That is to say: all is empty” (Zhu 1986: [126] 3012). Zhu regards this as the major difference between Buddhism and Confucianism, and an error at such a fundamental level is fatal to the whole Buddhist system. The Confucian affirmation of the world is closely related to the affirmation of the li 理 (principle/pattern) and xing 性 (nature/human nature). Zhu Xi also agrees to the ever-changing nature of the world, but there is something real beyond the appearances which come and go. The li that is directly accessible in the human is the xing. It is a fundamental Confucian stance in the affirmation of xing or human nature. In his view, “The difference between Confucianism and Buddhism on xing is only that the Buddhists regard it as empty and the Confucians regard it as real; the Buddhists regard it as non-existent, and the Confucians regard it as existent” (Zhu 1986: [126] 3015). For Confucianism, the reality of li and xing cannot be denied. “For the Confucians, the heart-mind is vacuous but the li is real. For the Buddhists, everything goes to

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emptiness and tranquility (kongji 空寂)” (Zhu 1986: [126] 3015). Even if the world is regarded as not real, “the li must be regarded as real” (Zhu 1986: [126] 3015). Zhu Xi argues that the world is real, because the li is real, and that the li is real can be inferred on the ground that the xing is real, and li is in the xing. Zhu Xi wrote on a debate he had with a Buddhist: “‘Xing is what one receives from Heaven’ [quoted from Zhongyong 中庸 (Doctrine of the Mean)]. Do you think this saying implies that there is nothing, or that the myriad li are there? If there is nothing, then the Buddhists win; if there is something real, then the Confucians are right. This matter can be decided without considering a second statement” (Zhu 2010: [31] 1331). Zhu Xi takes pain to distinguish between formless and nothingness. The Nonpolar (wuji 無極), which in some sense is prior to the Supreme Polarity (taiji 太 極), is formless but not nothingness. Although nature (xing 性) has no form, this does not mean that it is not real. Zhu said, “In the Nonpolar there is pattern (li 理) but no form. The same for nature, when does it have any form? In the Supreme Polarity, there are the pattern for the five phases (wuxing 五行) as well as the pattern of yin and yang. It is not empty. If it is empty, it is like what the Buddhists talk about nature.” Zhu also said, “The Buddha only sees the skin and body and doesn’t see all the paths and patterns (daoli 道理) in it” (Zhu 1986: [94] 2367). In the above, I show that Zhu Xi’s affirmative attitude towards the world and human nature, as against the Buddhist views of regarding all these as unreal, is based on his views on the real existence of the abstract pattern and nature beyond the appearance of the world. However, Zhu Xi’s views are actually more complicated and interesting than what is discussed in the above. Since Zhu Xi regards pattern or li and energy or qi 氣 as inseparable, the reality of li and the reality of qi can be affirmed at the same time. If the reality of li cannot be denied, and li and qi cannot be separated, then neither can the reality of qi be denied. Affirming not just the abstract li but also the physical world implies that there are good reasons to take the physical world seriously and work hard to improve the world. It also implies that it is wrong to seek li apart from the qi and to quest for a kind of enlightenment that has no place in our mundane world. Such unified relation of li and qi means that there is no need to seek the li in another world; one should do so only in this world. Such a metaphysical view has very practical implication, as can be witnessed by the following critique of Buddhism by Zhu Xi: When the Buddha was a prince, he had an outing. Seeing the suffering of birth, aging, sickness, and death, he disliked heartedly, and went to the snow mountain to engage himself in practice. Upon such a thought, he regarded everything as empty, and only feared not cutting off from them determinately enough and denouncing them not completely enough. We Confucians are not like that. We see everything as containing the li, and no li can be detached from things. The Buddha says all the li are empty, and we Confucians say all the li are real. (Zhu 1986: [17] 380)

A negative worldview leads to negative view of life, which comes from a wrong separation of li and qi, and the mistaken attempt of seeking li outside qi. Zhu claims, “The Buddhists and the Daoists do not think much of qi and regard it as some kind

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of refuse. They suppose that the dao can be sought only by getting rid of it. Eventually they are led to denounce human relationship, reject the body, and all these are regarded as negligible” (Zhu 1986: [98] 2508). Hence, the ethical mistakes are just a result of this fundamental metaphysical mistake.

4 Critique of Buddhism: Ethical The mainstream Confucian critique of Buddhism has been an ethical and practical one—pointing to the Buddhist monks’ failure to fulfil their ethical duties, and the undesirable social consequences of the widespread of Buddhism. The ethical critique is also a main part in Zhu Xi’s critique of Buddhism, but Zhu Xi has taken the ethical critique to a much deeper level. He is not just criticizing Buddhism on the basis of Confucian morality but also argues that anyone who takes ethics seriously cannot accept Buddhism. Such a critique has much more philosophical weight than the common Confucian critique. Of course, the common Confucian critique is not missing in Zhu Xi’s discussion of Buddhism. As human relationship has a core place in Confucian ethics, Zhu Xi regards such human relationship as exemplary of heavenly principles (tianli 天理). “[The problems of] the teachings of the Buddhists and the Daoists are obvious, even without in-depth investigation. The abolishment of the three cardinal guides and the five constant relationships (sangang wuchang 三綱五常) is already an extremely serious crime, not to say other matters” (Zhu 1986: [126] 3014). Such human relationship is taken lightly by the Buddhists, which is totally unacceptable from the Confucian point of view. The following is just an example given by Zhu Xi: They regard the body given birth by one’s parents as a temporary shelter. Suppose the old house is broken or collapsed, one just jumps into another new house. So the monk Huang Nie 黃糵 (?–855) has a verse to his mother, which says, “once upon a time, I took residence in this old woman’s house.” From this you can tell how far he is lacking in sentiment and morality and in his extinction of the heavenly principle (tianli 天理). (Zhu 1986: [126] 3013)

The different ways in handling human relationships constitute the major difference between Confucianism and Buddhism. As Zhu said, When the Buddhists fully act on their teaching, father and son, lord and minister, elder and younger brothers, husband and wife, friends become detached from one another. When we Confucians act [on the Confucian teaching] to the full, “there is love between father and son, duty between lord and minister, precedence between elder and younger brothers, distinction between husband and wife, and trust between friends.” We Confucians only recognize one real and substantial truth, which is the skeleton for all the goodness. (Zhu 1986: [126] 3017)

It is not just like that the Confucians have one morality and the Buddhists have another one. Zhu Xi uncovers the amoral tendency in Buddhism, which regards ethical practices as merely acceptable but not obligatory or binding. Basically the

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Buddhists do not affirm the values of the practices in daily life. They just regard the practices in daily life, including moral practices, as harmless, though not intrinsically valuable in themselves. According to Zhu Xi, such a view is actually amoral in nature. As a result, Zhu Xi’s critique of Buddhism is not from the sectarian point of view of Confucianism, but on behalf of human morality. I deplore that scholars in recent ages do not know the root and the order (genben cidi 根本 次第) of the solid teaching of the sages, and are given over to the teachings of the Buddhists and the Daoists.. .. They regard the original li of the world, the human morality of everyday life, as not important or profound, but just something that is harmless and can be left there as they are.” (Zhu 2010: [46] 2118)

The expression “genben cidi” indicates that Zhu Xi’s critique is not just based on the views or conclusions of the sages, but based on a foundational and systematic understanding of the nature of human morality. Zhu Xi is particularly interested in the difference between the Confucian and Buddhist understandings of the concept of nature (xing 性). Both the Confucians and the Buddhists talk about xing, but they mean something very different. For the Buddhists, “the function is the nature” (zuoyong shi xing 作用是性) and “from the function the nature can be seen” (zuo-­ yong jian xing 作用見性).2 That is to say, xing is just the function of the mind, and unlike the Confucian conception of human nature, it has no moral direction. The so-called “function” is morally neutral, or, from the view of someone who believes that morality makes a real difference, morally blind. Zhu Xi points out that the accomplished Buddhist can be a moral monster: According to the Chan Buddhist, it is enough to realize oneself as the master (zhurenweng 主人翁), whether what he does conform to li 理 or not, is not a matter of concern. For example, the relationship between father and son is our heavenly nature (tianxing 天性). If the father is abused by others, the son should go to rescue him, but he [the Chan Buddhist] would not do so. If the son has it in his heart-mind to rescue, then his heart-mind is disturbed by his love. Hence he becomes confused with his being the master. If in such case one should always remain waking up (chang xingxing 常惺惺) [alert, detached, and calm], what sense does it make? In the past I have read The Sayings of Four Masters (Sijia Lu 四 家錄), and found that some of the sayings are ridiculous, and shocking too! For example, the saying that if one’s father and mother are murdered by others, and if there is not even one single disturbance in one’s thought, then he can be called “a bodhisattva in the initial stage of a budding heart-mind” (chufaxin pusa 初發心菩薩). (Zhu 1986: [126] 3019)

Such a kind of enlightened stage only makes us less a human, not more a master of our self. Such awakening does not lead to a good life, but it is just awakening and is meant to stay that way. Zhu Xi approves heartily of his correspondent’s view that

 The Confucians can accept the second claim but not the first claim. For the Confucians, the nature is real and is not just the same as function, which has no substance. But they do accept the view that nature and function cannot be separated, and nature can be known via function. For example, ren or humanity is the substance, and compassion is the function. Cheng Yi holds that humanity can be known via compassion, and Zhu Xi speaks very highly of this view of Cheng Yi. For the Buddhists, the two claims are the same. But for the Confucians, the two claims cannot be the same, as function is just the manifestation of nature, which is substantive and real. I thank the editors for pointing out the difference between these two claims to me. 2

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“the Buddhists just have an awakening (jue 覺), and then there is no more d­ ifference, and they do not engage in affairs (shishi 事事). For us Confucians, engaging in affairs is nothing but the heavenly principle (tianli 天理)” (Zhu 2000: [46] 2123). The Confucian attitude of affirming human morality, the meaningfulness of daily affairs, is in line with the Confucian outlook of affirming the world and human nature. As such, the ethical critique is closely related to the metaphysical critique outlined in the last section. Zhu Xi also points out that it is humanly impossible to denounce human relationship. Although the Buddhists claim that they are doing it, actually they cannot do it. What they can do is just to replace the genuine ones with the fake ones: “The Buddhists want to abolish the relationships of lord and minister, father and son, but still they cannot really abolish them. Just like in a temple, they still have the names like ‘elders,’ and the names and roles (mingfen 名分) are still very strict. How can they be abolished! They are just being replaced with the fake ones!” (Zhu 1986: [126] 3035). Zhu Xi points out the inconsistency in the claim of denouncing human relations, which human beings cannot escape from, and those who try to escape from human relations are just fooling themselves, and nothing can be gained by replacing the genuine relations with the fake ones. There is this principle (li 理) in the world, and cannot be ridden of. It is well known that the Buddhists and Daoists annihilate human relationship (renlun 人倫), but actually it cannot be escaped from. For example, they don’t have the relationship of father and son, but they humbly acknowledge their teacher, and regard the students as their sons, and regard the elder ones as elder brothers and the younger ones as younger brothers. They can only guard the fake ones, but the sages and worthies keep the real ones. (Zhu 1986: [126] 3035)

Zhu Xi’s ethical critique of Buddhism is a truly ethical one that goes beyond the particular Confucian stance. He argues that there must be a real difference between good and bad, but Buddhism fails to offer any reasonable foundation of such a distinction. They also talk about doing good, but they have actually hollowed the content of good, and what is called good becomes just a name, without referring to the real thing: “The Buddha does not distinguish between good and bad (bu fen shan e 不分善惡). Those who revere him are regarded as good people, and those who oppose him have to go to hell. Once you revere him you can go to Heaven.” (Zhu 1986: [126] 3025). This is not real morality, and replacing real morality with this kind of teaching can only lead to degeneration of public morality. Not only does the Buddhist teaching lack an ethical foundation, it also goes against reasonable moral sentiments. In Zhu’s view, “What the Buddha calls compassion has no source and no reason; it is just love for all. Since the kind of love like the love of one’s parents is regarded as having a source, the parents are abandoned and not looked after. But when encountering a hungry tiger, he can give up his body to feed it. What kind of morality is that?” (Zhu 1986: [126] 3031–32). Zhu Xi’s critique of Buddhism is not so much that it is against Confucian ethics, but that it is against any reasonable conception of ethics. He accuses Buddhism of hollowing the content of goodness: “Ever since the Buddhists come to China, the use of the term “good” (shan 善) becomes wrong. They call paying tributes to the Buddha good. Acts like repairing bridges and constructing roads are beneficial to

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people. But for offering to the monks and building of temples, wherein is the good?” (Zhu 1986: [126] 3033). In Buddhism there is the talk of good, but the talk does not correspond to any objective principle (li 理). For the use of the term “good” to be truly meaningful, there must be an answer to the question what makes the good things good. Zhu Xi’s ethical critique of Buddhism comes not only from the Confucian perspective, but from a philosophical understanding of the nature of ethics. To sum up, Zhu Xi has a number of in-depth critiques of Buddhism from the ethical point of view, which goes beyond the Confucian stance. Like other Confucians, he also points out the problem of Buddhism with the neglect of proper human relationship. He further points out that such human relationship cannot be denied, and what the Buddhists have been doing is not abandoning human relationship but just replacing genuine human relations with fake ones. Just like his metaphysical critique of Buddhism, his ethical critique includes something new and much deeper than those offered by others in the past. His criticisms are based on his understanding of the “basic foundation and systematic order” (genben cidi 根本次 第) of ethics, which allows him to challenge Buddhism from the point of view of philosophical ethics in general, and not just Confucian views in particular. Buddhism does not offer an alternative morality which is different from the Confucian one, but is amoral, not based on any justifiable grounds, and hollowing the content of morality leaving only names and empty words. These are very serious and sophisticated criticisms of Buddhism.

5 Over-Influences by Buddhism As Zhu Xi points out, there are actually a number of similarities between Confucianism and Buddhism, and there are things that Confucianism can learn from Buddhism. Hence, influences by Buddhism may not be a bad thing. This section will not look into the many alleged Buddhist influences on Zhu Xi but will only consider some possible influences on Zhu Xi that may not be in line with the spirit of classical Confucianism, and hence possibly make Zhu Xi less a Confucian as he would like to be. The first issue is the relation between xing 性 (nature) and qing 情 (sentiment). In the Book of Rites (Liji 禮記), xing and qing are regarded as closely related to each other, qing is basically taken positively, and human qing is regarded as a basis of human morality (Yu and Tao 2012). However, in the Buddhist view, qing is something to be eliminated. The Tang dynasty writer Li Ao 李翱 (774–836) has written on this topic (Chan 1963: 456–59), and his Buddhist interpretation of qing has become influential in the development of ideas of a number of Neo-Confucians including Zhu Xi. As noted by Chen Chun 陳淳 (1159–1223), a leading student of Zhu Xi, “In a nutshell, the Buddhist view is more or less to eliminate qing in order to recover xing (mieqing yi fuxing 滅情以復性). Li Ao has written three essays on ‘Recovering Xing.’ They all express this idea” (Chen 2009: 48). Of course, Zhu Xi

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does not agree on elimination of qing, but his account of qing is still drawn too much towards the Buddhist side which pulls him away from the Confucian position. Zhu Xi also speaks quite favorably of Li Ao: “Li Ao has got considerable talent. There are many worthy thoughts in his essay ‘On Recovering Xing,’ Mister Ouyang [Ouyang Xiu 歐陽修 1007–1072] also only commended Han Yu (768–824) and Li Ao” (Zhu 1986: [137] 3275). While it is right to say that “the idea that Zhu Xi was suppressing the realm of the emotions does not seem entirely warranted” (Virág 2007: 81), it is definitely wrong to associate Zhu Xi with Su Shi’s 蘇軾 (1037–1101) positive account of human emotion and claim that Su “prefigured the ideas of Zhu Xi” (Virág 2007: 73). Su Shi’s positive account of qing was criticized by Zhu Xi with hostility.3 Zhu Xi’s view is of course not that qing is always bad and should be eliminated, but that qing is a source of moral badness, though something good can also come from it. “If our mind encompasses both nature and emotions while our nature is purely good, then the part that could lead our mind to deviate from good must be our feelings and emotions” (Liu 2018: 132). In short, “Zhu Xi has a guarded view against human feelings and emotions” (Liu 2018: 132). Surely the topic of Zhu Xi’s view on qing is a big one, which cannot be handled in this section. The purpose here is just to point out that there is here an issue that Zhu Xi might have been over-influenced by Buddhism, so that his views in this regard excessively deviate from the proper Confucian stance. A related point is the attitude towards nature or xing. How does a human become a good human? Mencius’ theory of human nature does not just hold that there is something good in human nature. He also answers the question whether becoming good is a natural formative or a forceful reformative process? Is it a matter of cultivation or a matter of battle? In Mencius’ words, “Can you make cups and bowls by following the nature of the willow? Or must you mutilate the willow before you can make it into cups and bowls?” (Mencius 4A.1; Lau 1984: 223). For Mencius, the project of becoming good is more aptly described as “following nature (shunxing 順性),”4 which is different from the saying of “restoring (or recovering) nature (fuxing 復性),” implying something like gaining back a lost castle, requiring fighting a very difficult war. Zhu Xi makes a sharp contrast between the moral mind (daoxin 道心) and the human mind (renxin 人心). For Zhu Xi, “human nature is what we should arrive at, so it represents our normative aim and our end state.” (Liu 2018: 128). “For Mencius, human nature consists in our natural moralistic sentiments; for Zhu Xi, human nature consists in our moral assignments as members of the human  Zhu Xi, “Discerning the Impure Doctrines” (Zaxue Bian 雜學辨), in vol. 42 of The Complete Works of Master Zhu (Zhuzi Quanshu 朱子全書; Zhu 2010: 3460–68). This piece of writing was taken in entirety by Quan Zuwang 全祖望 in his review of Su Shi in the chapter he added for Scholarly Records of the Song and Yuan Dynasties (Song Yuan Xue’an 宋元學案), Huang Zongxi’s 黃宗羲 definitive work on Neo-Confucianism. 4  This is called shuaixing 率性 (complying with nature) in Zhongyong. In Zhongyong, it is explicitly and unambiguously stated in the opening remarks that “Complying with nature is called the ‘Way’” (Johnston and Wang 2012: 215). One cannot be too wrong by following nature, what one needs in addition is just some adjustment or rectification (xiu 修). 3

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s­pecies. In this respect, Zhu Xi has turned the descriptive sense of human xing (nature) in Mencius’ usage into the prescriptive sense” (Liu 2018: 128–29). The point that I want to make here is not that Zhu Xi’s view deviates from Mencius’ doctrine of human nature, but that there is fundamental incongruence between Zhu Xi’s view and the prevailing idea in classical Confucianism. In classical Confucianism, the Way can be followed mainly by following our nature, and our sentiments (qing 情) are basically alright, and need only regulation and enrichment. The moral demands for us are very reasonable and not difficult to meet. According to the Confucians, the Way is not far away from human (and not far away from human sentiments), otherwise it cannot be the human Way. Such a characterization of moral cultivation as a natural and human process is to be contrasted with Zhu Xi’s depiction of moral cultivation as conquering the enemy or a kind of uphill battle.5 Zhu Xi has made use frequently of the Buddhist metaphor of a pearl in dirty water. Restoring one’s nature is like clearing the dirt from the pearl: “Whenever there is the li there is the qi, and whenever there is the qi there must be the li. The people who receive clean qi become sages and worthies, like the precious pearl in clean water. Those people who receive dirty qi become the stupid and the unworthy. The saying ‘Illustrate one’s illustrious virtue’ (ming mingde 明明德) means wiping the pearl out of the dirty water” (Zhu 1986: [4] 73). This is a rather negative view of the human condition and a much darker view of what human beings are. The emphasis on “illustrating the heavenly principles and eliminating human desires (ming tianli mie renyu 明天理滅人欲)” (Zhu 1986: [12] 206) also takes the cultivation of virtue as a heroic or superhuman attempt rather than a natural process of mainly following one’s nature requiring occasional moderation and adjustment. I just want to raise a question here: which of these two views sound closer to the view in classical Confucianism? This might be an area that Zhu Xi has been excessively influenced by Buddhism that makes him deviate from the Confucian outlook. The last point that I would like to comment on is the Neo-Confucian doctrine of “the li (principle) is one but the fen (part) is various (li yi fen shu 理一分殊).” This is a view put forward by Cheng Yi (1033–1107), and has been taken as a central thesis in Neo-Confucianism. However Zhu Xi’s interpretation of this view is very different from Cheng Yi’s original intention. Cheng’s doctrine is a clearly Confucian one, but Zhu’s explication is influenced too much by the Buddhist metaphor of one moon and the reflections in many lakes, and he has borrowed too much from

 It is true that even in Mencius, when the heart/mind is lost, seeking the lost heart/mind is also an uphill battle (in such bad condition it is rare that the battle can be won, and the winning would be a remarkable moral achievement). However, this is the exception that proves the rule. For the people who have already lost their heart/mind, it is indeed difficult to gain it back. But this is not the normal situation for everyone, not the common human condition, and definitely not the situation we are born into. I thank the editors for raising the query, which gives me an opportunity to further clarify my views. 5

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Buddhist classics such as the Huayan Sutra (Huayan jing 華嚴經) in his illustration of this doctrine.6 In Cheng Yi’s original context, the saying “the li is one but the fen is different (li yi er fen shu 理一而分殊)” is a reply in explaining whether universal love as advocated by Zhang Zai (1020–1077) is compatible with the special duties one owes to those who have special relations with one. The mistake with Mozi is that only the love to all is emphasized, but one’s personal fen is ignored (ai he er wu fen 愛合而 無分) (Cheng and Cheng 1981: 1202; Chan 1963: 550–51). Cheng Yi’s view is that we should start with our own fen or one’s moral share of duties, and then extend (tui 推) it to others. The starting points and the exact acts of different people are different, but the approach and the goal are the same, that is, extending one’s care and concern, until we reach the highest stage that includes everything and regards all as one. This is a very typical Confucian position. The beauty of this view is that both universality and variety are emphasized at the same time, and the two are regarded as complementary and not incompatible. It upholds both unity and plurality. The problem with Zhu Xi’s interpretation is that it overemphasizes unity, and consequently the so-called different manifestations are just copies of the same one. The difference is not significant, and there is no reason at all to preserve the variety. As Zhu Xi said, “Originally there is only one Taiji 太極 [Supreme Ultimate], and the myriad things all receive it, and so all contain a Taiji. Like the moon is in the sky, and there is only one. When it scatters in the rivers and lakes, it can be seen everywhere. It cannot be said that the moon has been divided” (Zhu 1986: [94] 2409). The resemblance of Zhu Xi’s saying with the famous Buddhist view is unmistaken. What makes it incongruent with Confucianism is that it is not a dual emphasis of unity and variety. It is just one and different manifestations of the same source. There is no place for genuine variety or diversity in this view. For this reason, Zhu’s interpretation of the doctrine of “the li is one but the fen is different” goes against the Confucian stance of harmonious co-existence or co-flourishing of diversity, as expressed in Confucian sayings like “harmonious but different” (Analects 13.23); “The ten thousand things are nurtured together, and yet do not harm each other. Different paths are simultaneously traveled, and yet are not contrary to each other” (Zhongyong 32; Johnston and Wang 2012: 369).

6 Conclusion This chapter does not answer the question how well Zhu Xi knows Buddhism (Chan 1988: 648–51; Ding 2011: 527–32), or how relevant are Zhu’s criticisms of Buddhism (Chan 1988: 651–53). The major question we consider in this chapter is

 Zhu Xi regards his one-many doctrine as a criticism of the one-many doctrine in Hua-yan school, which takes all phenomena as merely manifestations of the mind (Huang 1999: 134–35). Nevertheless, Zhu still shares the view that the many are but the manifestations of the same One. 6

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what we can learn about Confucianism and Neo-Confucianism from Zhu Xi’s critique of Buddhism. Zhu Xi’s appreciation of Chan Buddhism as a living philosophy “to seek the heart-mind and realize the nature” (Zhu 1986: [137] 327) shows that he would like to revitalize Confucianism in the same direction. At the same time, his metaphysical critique of Buddhism contrasts the fundamental differences between the Confucian and the Buddhist outlooks. Both of these two aspects can help to explain what is new in Neo-Confucianism and understand the contributions of Zhu Xi as a Confucian philosopher. In his ethical critique of Buddhism, Zhu Xi manages to go beyond common arguments from Confucian ethics and practical considerations, and raises serious questions about the very nature and foundation of ethics. In places where Zhu Xi might have been excessively influenced by Buddhism, we can also reflect on what is really crucial or valuable in the Confucian way of thinking. In short, Zhu Xi’s critique of Buddhism tells us much about Zhu Xi and Neo-Confucianism.

References Ariki, Kengo 荒木見吾. 2008. Buddhism and Confucianism 佛教與儒教. Translated by Liao Chao-heng 廖肇亨. Taipei 臺北: Linking Books 聯經出版公司. Ch’en, Kenneth. 1964. Buddhism in China: A Historical Survey. Princeton: Princeton University Press. ———. 1973. The Chinese Transformation of Buddhism. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Chan, Wing-tsit. 1963. A Source Book in Chinese Philosophy. Princeton: Princeton University Press. ———. 1987. Chu Hsi: Life and Thought. Hong Kong: The Chinese University Press. (Good integration of historical and philosophical study.) Chan, Wing-tsit 陳榮捷. 1988. New Explorations on Zhu Xi 朱子新探索. Taipei 臺北: Xuesheng shuju 學生書局. (Articles 99 to 102 are on Zhu Xi and Buddhism.) Chen, Chun 陳淳. 2009. Beixi on the Meaning of Words 北溪字義. Beijing 北京: Zhonghua shuju 中華書局. Cheng, Hao 程顥, and Cheng Yi 程頤. 1981. Collection of the Writings of the Two Chengs 二程 集. Beijing 北京: Zhonghua shuju 中華書局. Ching, Julia. 2000. The Religious Thought of Chu His. New  York: Oxford University Press. (Chapter 9 is on Zhu Xi and Buddhism—unlike most studies which focus on Zhu’s critique of Buddhism, this study also investigates Zhu’s admiration of Buddhism.) Ding, Weixiang. 2011. “Zhu Xi’s Choice, Historical Criticism and Influence: An Analysis of Zhu Xi’s Relationship with Confucianism and Buddhism.” Frontiers of Philosophy in China 6.4: 521–48. Huang, Siu-chi. 1999. Essentials of Neo-Confucianism: Eight Major Philosophers of the Song and Ming Periods. Westport: Greenwood Press. Johnston, Ian, and Wang Ping, trans. 2012. Daxue and Zhongyong. Hong Kong: The Chinese University Press. Lao, Sze-kwang 勞思光. 1980. A History of Chinese Philosophy 中國哲學史, 3 vols (4 books). Hong Kong 香港: Union Press Limited 友聯出版有限公司. Lau, D.C., trans. 1984. The Mencius. Hong Kong: The Chinese University Press. Liu, JeeLoo. 2018. Neo-Confucianism: Metaphysics, Mind, and Morality. Hoboken: Wiley Blackwell.

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Lu, Jiuyuan 陸九淵. 1980. Collection of Writings of Lu Jiuyuan 陸九淵集. Beijing 北京: Zhonghua shuju 中華書局. Qian, Mu 錢穆. 2011. A New Scholarly Record of Master Zhu 朱子新學案. Beijing 北京: Jiuzhou chubanshe 九州出版社. (Deep understanding and comprehensive survey of Zhu Xi, most useful secondary literature for this chapter.) Virág, Curie. 2007. “Emotions and Human Agency in the Thought of Zhu Xi.” Journal of Song– Yuan Studies 37: 49–88. Yu, Kam-por, and Julia Tao. 2012. “Confucianism.” In Ruth Chadwick, ed., Encyclopedia of Applied Ethics, 4 vols. 2nd ed., 1:578–586. San Diego: Academic. Zhu, Xi 朱熹. 1986. Classified Sayings of Master Zhu 朱子語類, Li Jingde 黎靖德, ed. Beijing 北 京: Zhonghua shuju 中華書局. ———. 2010. The Complete Works of Master Zhu 朱子全書. Shanghai 上海: Shanghai Guji 金 chubanshe 上海古籍出版社. Kam-por Yu is an honorary fellow and former director of the General Education Centre of the Hong Kong Polytechnic University. He has been an associate professor at the Department of Public and Social Administration of the City University of Hong Kong, and a research fellow at Hong Kong University, Harvard University, Bonn University, and the University of Edinburgh. His latest publications include several books on Confucian ethics and practical ethics, as well as a series of papers on the Confucian views on war, peace, harmony, civility, toleration, education, and pluralistic values.  

Chapter 29

Zhu Xi and Daoism: Investigation of Inner-Meditative Alchemy in Zhu Xi’s Theory and Method for the Attainment of Sagehood James D. Sellmann

1 Introduction In a sense Zhu Xi’s philosophy would not be possible without Daoist cosmology and self-cultivation practices. Daoism provides the beginning and end of Zhu Xi’s philosophy in that his philosophy begins with the Diagram of the Great Polarity or Taijitu 太極圖, and it ends with his later life interest in Daoist self-cultivation and breathing techniques. This is a bold claim. This chapter will explicate why Daoism plays such an important role in his philosophy. In this chapter, I present a critical interpretation of the Diagram of the Great Polarity or the Taijitu 太極圖, The Seal of the Unity of the Three in the Zhou Book of Changes or the Zhouyi Cantongqi 周易參同契, and The Yellow Emperor’s Classic of the Secret Talisman or the Huangdi Yinfujing 黃帝陰符經 to show that Zhu Xi was influenced by Daoist inner-meditative alchemy (neidan dao 內丹道). In particular, I argue that Zhu Xi’s approach toward the cultivation of sagehood requires an investigation and application of inner-meditative alchemical (neidan) practices. Although Julia Ching has presented a comprehensive study of Zhu Xi’s spiritual interests in Daoism (Ching 2000: 152–70), Judith Berling showed the intricate relations of Daoism and Neo-Confucianism (Berling 1979: 123–47), and Chan Wing-tsit exposed Zhu Xi’s indirect influence from Daoism (Chan 1975: 131–44), someone might want to dismiss Zhu Xi’s interaction and influence from the (so-­ called religious) Daoist practices of neidan inner-meditative alchemy. However, the skeptic should not dismiss Zhu Xi’s investigation of neidan too quickly, because neidan thought plays an important part in his philosophy of selfcultivation and the attainment of sagehood. I suggest that we deploy a phenomeno-

J. D. Sellmann (*) College of Liberal Arts and Social Science, University of Guam, Mangilao, Guam, USA e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2020 K.-c. Ng, Y. Huang (eds.), Dao Companion to ZHU Xi’s Philosophy, Dao Companions to Chinese Philosophy 13, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-29175-4_29

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logical epochẻ, bracket out our biases against alchemy and follow what Qian Mu 錢穆 suggests was Zhu Xi’s own attitude: Zhuzi (literally “Master Zhu”) never attempted to cover-up this fact (i.e., the Daoist origin of the Diagram of the Great Polarity and the Diagram of the Prior Heaven or the Xiantiantu 先天圖). Zhuzi also befriended Daoist priests (Daoshi 道士)…. Indeed, we can see that Zhuzi’s interest in what he studied was multifarious, and that his attitude was open-minded. (Qian 1986: 345)

In discussing the religio-philosophical traditions of China, and other cross-cultural studies for that matter, the methods of phenomenology and hermeneutics should be employed. However, in the previous study of Chinese religio-philosophical traditions, there was a long-standing neglect of applying the phenomenological epochẻ to suspend cultural and personal biases; for instance, the discipline has degenerated when religious practices are labeled “superstitions” (Doré 1914–1938) or when the religious interpretations of the Daodejing 道德經 are scoffed at (Welch 1966). I apply a critical textual hermeneutic that must be judged on its strengths and weaknesses as they appear in the following study.

2 What is Daoism? Daoism (Daojia 道家) and Daoist Teachings (Daojiao 道教) Before defining these key terms, I should briefly discuss the controversy concerning their definition, and how this difference of opinion arises from the variety of methods used to study the religio-philosophical traditions of China. It is only with the relatively recent developments in the “science of religion” (Religionswissenschaft) that a fitting historical-phenomenological approach is being applied to Chinese religio-­philosophy. I use the term “religio-philosophy” to refer to the historical intellectual traditions of Daoism, Confucianism, and Buddhism in an attempt to “bracket” the Western, especially Euro-American and Christian, distinction between religion versus philosophy, and reason versus faith. Although the traditional teachings of China did not make a distinction between religion and philosophy or reason and faith, at least not before contact with those Middle Eastern ideas, some modern scholars insist on imposing such a distinction on Daoism, in particular. Before Matteo Ricci (a.k.a. Li Madou 利瑪竇, 1552–1610), Chinese literature did not clearly distinguish between philosophical and religious Daoism, the way modern scholars do; nevertheless, Chinese literature did use the terms Daojia (Dao school or Daoist) and Daojiao (Dao teachings). The term Daojiao was primarily used in contrast to Fojiao 佛教 (Buddhism) and Rujiao 儒教 (Confucianism). It is interesting to note that little is made of the distinction between philosophy and religion in the study of Buddhism and Confucianism. Given the Buddhist or Confucian interests of many sinologists, Fojiao and Rujiao are defined as philosophical systems of ethics. Since the term Daojia 道家 was and still is used to refer to both the

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early, so-called philosophical, Daoists, and later, so-called religious, Daoists, I believe that this dual usage of the term and other evidence shows that from a social historical perspective the dichotomy between religion and philosophy in Chinese culture is unwarranted (Sivin 1978: 303–30; Stein 1979).1 It is important to point out that from within the traditions of Daoist teachings or Daojiao, especially the esoteric sects, e.g. the Sect of the Covenant with the Powers of the Orthodox Unity (Zhengyi Mengweipai 正一盟威派, also called the Celestial Master Sect, Tianshipai 天師派), or the Sect of Mount Wudang (Wudangshanpai 武 當山派), there is no perceived “break,” or separation, between religion and philosophy, to demarcate the early Daoists (e.g., Laozi 老子 and Zhuangzi 莊子) from themselves, that is, later Daojiao teachings. Daoists practitioners utilize both the Laozi and the Zhuangzi texts, and the person of Laozi is venerated as Lord Lao, Laojun 老君, an avatar of the Dao 道, who allegedly revealed scriptures such as the Way and Its Power (Daodejing 道德經), the Yellow Court Classic (Huangtingjing 黃 庭經), or the Treatise on Response and Retribution (Ganyingpian 感應篇), not to mention the various other titles, pseudonyms or esoteric names, such as Wei Boyang 魏伯陽, that Daoists use to honor Laozi. Therefore, I do not make the common, religion versus philosophy, distinction in discussing “Daoism.” However, in the midst of this Daojiao view of continuity with their later day teachings and the ancient masters, which I might add, such a view of continuity is held by many esotericmystical traditions. For instance, the Cabala traces itself back to Moses, Chan/Zen to the Buddha, Sufis to Mohammed, and so on. There are numerous “sects” or variant perspectives on the teachings of the Dao (a diversity of interpretations naturally occurs in every religio-philosophical tradition, that is, divergent views and practices generate various sects). For example, in the Zhou dynasty, during the Warring States Period (480–221 BCE.), there appear to have been at least two different, yet interrelated, Daoist perspectives: one was chiefly governmental, that is the Laozi, and the other was basically antinomian and concerned with positive transformation (hua 化) and self-actualizing True Persons (zhenren 真人) of the Zhuangzi. The two texts however share some common expressions for meditation and self-cultivation practices (Roth 1999). Those meditation and self-cultivation practices constitute part of the unifying continuity of Daoism across the ages. The two interpretations were synthesized as Lao–Zhuang 老莊 thought, for instance in the Huainanzi 淮南子, and the Wenzi 文子. Sayings attributed to the Yellow Emperor (Huangdi 黃帝) are found in the Liezi 列子 (Graham 1990: 47; Tu 1979: 103–6). There are what are believed to be the Four Classics of the Yellow Emperor (Huangdi sijing 黃帝四經), from the Mawangdui 馬王堆 tomb, that were in circulation at that time (Yates 1997: 47–178). Thomas Michael has noted the importance of nurturing life yangsheng 養 生 self-cultivation practices in early Daoism (Michael 2015: 93–138). To understand

 See my master’s thesis, “Dao Shih: Religion, Philosophy, and Self-actualization,” University of Hawaii at Manoa 1981, p. 40. I show that H. G. Creel’s distinction of “contemplative and purposive” Daoism is not textually tenable. 1

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the Daoist interest in alchemy, it is important to point out that the Yellow Emperor (Huangdi), a Daoist mythical figure, is attributed with practicing alchemy. The Zhuangzi Chap. 6, entitled “The Great Venerable Teacher (Dazongshi 大宗師)”, recounts the Yellow Emperor’s ascension into the heavens, and the myth developed that the Yellow Emperor achieved immortality by concocting the elixir (dan 丹) in a sacrificial ding 鼎 vessel. The Yellow Emperor’s political philosophy was syncretized with the Laozi and was called Huang–Lao 黃老. However, the interactions between Huang–Lao and Lao–Zhuang are vague. Hsiao Kung-chuan contends that the Lao–Zhuang teaching became known as the Huang–Lao teachings during the Early Han (206 BCE.–8 CE.), and then during the Later Han (25–220 CE.), they regained the name Lao–Zhuang (Hsiao 1979: 549–601). To compound the matter, there were a few different Huang–Lao schools, for example: (1) a political school; (2) an alchemy school; (3) and a “messianic” school (Hsiao 1979: 602–67; Needham 1976, vol. 5: 50; Seidel 1969: 22). Within the divergent schools or sects, there was an attempt to reconcile the two primary Daoist views of government (the Laozi) and self-­actualization (the Zhuangzi), and this, in part, leads to the confusion of the term “the arts of the Dao (daoshu 道術)”—that can be understood in three primary ways: (1) the Dao of government; (2) the Dao of mystical union; and (3) the Dao of immortality. Furthermore, these different perspectives overlap in two important ways: first, the tradition of mystical union with the Dao (some Laozi chapters, the “Inner Training [Nei-ye 內業]” chapter of the Guanzi 管子, the Zhuangzi, the Liezi and their meditative practices continued in neidan [inner-meditative alchemy]) appears to refer to immortality as a metaphor for union with the Dao, that is, in the sense that when a person unites with the Dao—the long lasting—she attains mystical or spiritual immortality, yet this is not an ego-centric, personal, or physical immortality. Rather it is a highly sophisticated religio-philosophical conception, and this impersonal mystical “immortality” will be important to keep in mind when we come to Zhu Xi’s view of immortality and his view of sagehood. Second, since the time of Qin Shi Huangdi 秦始皇帝 and the Qin dynasty (221–206 BCE.), it became an imperial pastime to seek out not only the arts of good government, but also the arts of physical immortality, because the two projects were of great importance to some emperors: with the governing skills a ruler could keep the empire in order, and with physical immortality he could rule forever becoming a true August Emperor (huangdi 皇帝). Thus, the quest for the elixir that would impart physical immortality became more popular than the pursuit of self-actualization via union with the Dao; such that by the early fourth century CE., the Daoist alchemist, Ge Hong 葛洪 (ca. 283–343 or 363) was criticizing the Laozi and Zhuangzi for their “pessimistic” views of death (Graham 1960: 5). Clearly Ge Hong stood outside of the esoteric-­mystical tradition (maybe therefore he did not receive The Seal of the Unity of the Three). After the time of Ge Hong, Daoism continues to grow along both esoteric and popular paths with much interaction and intermixing of views and practices both internally among Daoists teachings and sects, and externally with Buddhism and the Yijing 易經 (The Book of Changes).

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To some extent Zhu Xi is responsible for what has become a commonplace distinction between early classical Daoism (called Daoist Philosophy) and later forms of ritual, meditation, alchemy, immortality, and other practices (called Daoist religion). Although Zhu Xi did not use the term Daoism (Daojia 道家 or Daojiao 道 教), he distinguished the classical Lao–Zhuang texts from the later cult of ­immortality. Zhu Xi preferred the classical texts (Ching 2000: 153). His preference influenced later scholars to highlight an apparent difference between the early texts, and the alleged later practices and beliefs in immortality. As a political realist Zhu preferred the Laozi over the Zhuangzi, which he took to be less socially responsible than the Laozi’s more apparent political concerns (Ching 2000: 155). Although Zhu Xi’s relationship with Daoism has been described as contradictory or inconsistent (Ching 2000: 152), the Daoist influence on his thinking is foundational and pervasive. Why do I make such a claim? The foundational and pervasive character of Daoist ideas are contained not only in the Diagram of the Great Polarity or Taijitu and the other diagrams, such as, the (Yellow) River Chart or the Hetu 河 圖, the Writ of the Lou (River) or the Luoshu 洛書, the Diagram of the Posterior Heaven or the Houtiantu 後天圖, the Diagram of the Prior Heaven or the Xiantiantu 先天圖 which are well known to be of Daoist origin, but also Daoist forms of self-­ cultivation play a role in Zhu Xi’s aspirations for sagehood. On the one hand, Zhu is critical of Daoist thinkers for not being adequately engaged with the socio-politicalmoral activities and practices needed to advance social and political harmony or for promoting the “pottery-shards” of Buddhism or legendary Daoist fictions of physical immortality. On the other hand, he acknowledges that the Laozi and Zhuangzi are elegantly written classical works worth reading for their insights, and that Daoist breathing exercises and medicine have practical psychological and physical health benefits. Because Zhu was promoting a worldview based on the ancient traditions of what he understood to be the sages of the Confucian teachings, he could not or would not openly advocate the Daoist perspective. Being under the court’s scrutiny for his own alleged heresy, he would not and could not openly advocate the “heresy” of Daoism; at least not until the ideas of Daoism were washed clean and transposed into something he could work with (Ching 2000). As a public teacher Zhu had to maintain his public advocacy of the Confucian teachings; as an open-minded scholar he was willing to inquire into any and all resources, including Daoist cosmological ideas, diagrams, and self-cultivation practices. This is how Zhu Xi balanced inquiry and advocacy. Zhu was very concerned to distinguish and to separate the cosmological ideas in the early classical works from the ever-popular claims of personal immortality made by the later Daoist sects. In his old age, like many, he became more attracted to the Daoist practices and medicine for health and longer life. Zhu Xi recognized that the Laozi and the Zhuangzi were classical texts. As classical texts he held them in high regard. Zhu preferred the Laozi because it was more politically engaged than the Zhuangzi. He took the Laozi’s practical and important lessons of humility, especially for officials in high office, and effortless action to be good advice, but he criticized the Laozi’s teaching for being overly selfish and dis-

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connected from the social and political world (Ching 2000: 154). He felt that the Laozi paved the way for the development of Legalism and the military strategy used in the Yellow Emperor’s Classic of the Secret Talisman or Huangdi Yinfujing. Zhu felt that the Liezi was an older text that influenced the Zhuangzi. He was more critical of the Zhuangzi, proposing that it was even less concerned with moral norms and more focused on personal security than the Laozi (Ching 2000: 156). As Ching points out, Zhu does find some redeeming value in the Zhuangzi. For example, he sees in the Zhuangzi’s metaphor about Butcher Ding carving up an ox, his stages of development and his nineteen years of practice to be an example of the importance of gradual self-cultivation over the sudden approach, which was popular at that time (Ching 2000: 156).

3 Inner-Meditative Alchemy (Neidan dao 內丹道) Zhu Xi’s philosophy, especially his approach to the cultivation of sagehood, was influenced by Daoist inner-meditative alchemy practices or neidan dao. Although it is inappropriate to distinguish Daojia as philosophical and Daojiao as religious, there is a need to attempt to clearly demarcate the range and complexity of the various historical schools and sects in the history of Daoism. Two important schools which must be recognized as distinct, yet very often interrelated and connected, are the two alchemy schools of Daoism, namely, inner-meditative alchemy (neidan 內丹), and external-chemical alchemy (waidan 外丹). The latter is “… commonly what the Daoists (Daojia) refer to as jindan 金丹 (i.e., the metallic-­ cinnabar, Gold or Golden Elixir), concerned with cinnabar (dansha 丹砂), and other things which deal with the heating (shaolian 燒煉, commonly translated as “alchemy”) and compounding (cheng 成) the elixir (dan 丹) used to make the dosage of the external elixir (waidan) to be eaten; it forms a symmetrical whole with neidan” (Li 1977: 205). Whereas waidan is primarily concerned with compounding a chemical elixir; neidan, as we see in the following, is predominately directed toward self-cultivation by means of harmonizing the vital forces of life within the body with meditative breathing, visualization and other techniques to culminate in mystical union with the cosmos. Neidan is commonly defined as: The Daoist (Daojia) methods (shu 術) of meditative-cultivation and transmutation (xiulian 修煉) such as Dragon-Tiger Cultivation (Longhu 龍虎), Lead-Mercury Cultivation (Qiankong 鉛汞), embryonic breathing (Taixi 胎息), and controlled-slow-respiration (Tuna 吐納) are used for the inner-meditative elixir (neidan 內丹). Other meditative practices (gongfu 工夫) associated with the cinnabar vessel (danding 丹鼎 that is the lower section of the ventral abdomen in the lower cinnabar field, or dantian 丹田) are: 1. cleansing the body and heart-mind, i.e., to empty the heart-mind, mu-yu 沐浴, 2. Gentle nourishment, wen-yang 溫養, 3. binding the embryo, i.e., focusing the lower cinnabar field on union with Dao, jietai 結胎, and 4. casting off the body, tuoti 脱體; all of this entails the meditative-­ cultivation of the vital-essence and energy-breath, jingqi 精氣 in the cinnabar field or dantian. It (neidan) uses the three forces of the human body, i.e., vital-essence (jing 精), energy-breath (qi 氣), and consciousness-spirit (shen 神). The three forces of the body are

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used to mutually penetrate into the primordial life-force (yuan-qi 元氣) of the cosmos; this generates the law (fa 法) of mystical union of humans and nature (tianren heyi zhifa 天人 和一之法). By compounding jing 精, the qi 氣 is transformed; compounding qi 氣, the shen 神 is transformed, and compounding the shen 神 you return to the void (xu 虛). This is the practice of disengaging from worldly affairs. (Li 1977: 96. Similar descriptions can be found in Chen 1963, vol. 2: 447; Saso 1979: 33; Chang 1963: 163)

The distinction between, and yet the symmetry and interrelationship of, waidan and neidan is not unique to Chinese alchemy. In this respect the waidan/neidan distinction appears to be comparable with the exoteric/esoteric dichotomy in ­ European alchemy. E. J. Holmyard portrays this distinction in the following: Alchemy is of a twofold nature, an outward or exoteric and a hidden or esoteric. Exoteric alchemy is concerned with attempts to prepare a substance, the philosophers’ stone, or simply the Stone, endowed with the power of transmuting the base metals … into the precious metals’ gold and silver. The Stone … sometimes known as the Elixir or Tincture and was credited … with prolonging human life indefinitely. The belief that it could be obtained only by divine grace and favor led to the development of esoteric or mystical alchemy and this developed into a devotional system where the mundane transmutations of metals became merely symbolic of the transmutation of sinful man into a perfect being … [recall that this describes European post-Christian alchemy]. The two kinds of alchemy were often inextricably mixed…. (Holmyard 1968: 15–16)2

Given the mystical concern of the inner-meditative alchemy practices, and the need for a teacher-scholar of the Dao (Daoshi 道士 or later priest) to guide the student in the use of the various daoshu 道術 (meditative methods for union with the Dao discussed above), that is, an esoteric oral transmission (koujue 口訣) is required, thus, neidan can be translated as esoteric alchemy, but the long standing Christian connotations of that term warrant an alternative translation. I tentatively offer the translation “inner-meditative alchemy” for neidan. It can be identified by its threefold concern for: (1) the panenhenic—all in one—mystical union with the ultimate reality or dao of nature; (2) personal transformation or self-realization derived from the mystical experience of union with the ultimate dao of nature; and (3) meditative practices and breathing exercises to assist the realization of the experience.Given the complexity of the esoteric inner-meditative alchemy and its preeminent Daoist transmission, a person might wonder how or why Zhu Xi was interested in the study of neidan inner-meditative alchemy. Recall the numerous passages and chapters in the classical literature concerned with self-actualization, the realization of sagehood, and the overtly humanistic concerns for the growth and development of human potential. Zhu Xi as the great synthesizer and innovator of Chinese religio-­ philosophical thinking, naturally had his views on the topic of self-cultivation and sagehood. Reflections on Things at Hand (Jinsilu 近思錄) presents Zhu Xi’s program for attaining sagehood and note that juan 卷 13 is concerned with “sifting out” the non-Confucian traditions in regard to their (heretical) teaching of sagehood (Zhu and Lu 1977, vol. 5/13; Chan 1967: Ch. 13). Not only was there an over-

 The paths of convergence are so intertwined that Li (1977: 96) uses “conservation” (hanyang 涵 養) to define “nurturing inner-nature” (yangxing 養性). 2

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whelming body of literature on self-cultivation and sagehood which stood before the editorial skills of Zhu Xi, but there was also a long development of various perspectives and schools that studied health, hygiene, and the promotion or prolonging of the life-span, for example the school of Medicine (Yixue 醫學), the school of pharmacology and herbs (meteria medica, bencao 本草), the schools of sexual hygiene, cults and practices of physical immorality (xiandao 仙道), a variety of good life and long-life (shou 壽) practices and beliefs, and also the esoteric mystical-­ immortality practices (Yu 1964–1965: 80–122; Welch 1966). Naturally, as a Song dynasty administrator, Zhu Xi had to know and understand many things to adequately serve his government. He was also the administrator of at least six Daoist temples (Ching 2000: 152). Thus, his philosophical emphasis on the thorough investigation of things, gewu 格物, and the exhaustive-comprehension of pattern/ principle, qiongli 窮理, had great effect on the depth and breadth of his studies (for a similar discussion, see Tomoeda 1971: 59–60). His open mindedness and access to Daoist materials led to his study of the major Daoist texts and diagrams made available to him from his Daoist friends and the libraries of the Song dynasty Daoist temples he administered (Qian 1986: 324–26). Above I argued that from the Daoist “perspective” there is no serious difference perceived between their later teachings and those of Huangdi, Laozi, and Zhuangzi. Most of the post-Qin dynasty (after 206 BCE.) schools or sects of Daojiao maintained the early Masters in their pantheons into and beyond the Song dynasty. As we will see in the following, it is primarily the inner-meditative alchemy practices and the numerologist Daoists of the Song who influence Zhu Xi’s cosmogony, his interpretation of The Book of Changes, his theory and method of personal transformation to cultivate and attain sagehood. I discussed the interrelationships of alchemy and “Daoism” and why I translate neidan as “inner-meditative alchemy” rather than “esoteric alchemy.” In his studies Zhu Xi’s approach was comprehensive, thorough, and open minded. Because he was primarily concerned, like every other major religio-­philosophical thinker of China, with self-cultivation and the attainment of sagehood, it was only natural that he investigated the Buddhist and Daoist approaches also. Next, I argue that Zhu Xi’s use of the Diagram of the Great Polarity, Taijitu, was not only intended by him as a diagram of cosmogony, but that he also understood it as a diagram for the meditative process of returning to the source—the Dao as non-­ polarity wuji 無極. I show that his conception of sagehood was influenced by two important neidan texts, namely The Seal of the Unity of the Three in the Zhou Book of Changes (Zhouyi Cantongqi 周易參同契 or simply the Cantongqi 參同契) and The Yellow Emperor’s Classic of the Secret Talisman (Huangdi Yinfujing 黃帝陰符 經, abbreviated as the Yinfujing 陰符經).

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4 The Diagrams and the Texts In the study of ancient manuscripts, it is important to utilize an historical and hermeneutical approach. Historians approach a document with two primary questions in mind: what type of information is offered, and how reliable is the information? A critical textual hermeneutic must begin from these two historical questions before it can adequately workout an understanding and interpretation of the text studied. Although it is beyond the scope of this paper to generate a complete methodology, I offer the following eleven questions as a foundation for developing such a methodology and to provide an idea of the complexity of a textual hermeneutic. The questions are: (1) What is the date of the text; and what is the socio-historical context of the text? (2) Who is the author (if it is a pseudonym, what is its meaning and origin)? (3) What is the text’s title; its meaning and possible translation? (4) What audience is it directed toward, and what is the worldview presupposed by the text? (5) What is the literary style and linguistic content of the text? (6) What is the content of the text (a more detailed exposition of the first historical question)? (7) What are the known outside references to the text or its main ideas/concepts or quoted passages? (8) Who are its commentators, and what are their commentaries? (9) Who are the commentators’ audiences and their presupposed worldviews? (10) What are the commentators’ understandings of the text? (11) What is the present status of the text? Of course, to answer these questions would require a book in itself—creating a hermeneutic circle from the old text(s) to the new text(s). I do not attempt to answer all these questions in any detail concerning the Diagram of the Great Polarity, The Seal of the Unity of the Three, or The Classic of the Secret Talisman. I mention these questions because they are an important part of this, or any, hermeneutical textual study.

4.1 The Diagram of the Great Polarity (Taijitu) There are at least five diagrams which had an impact on Zhu Xi’s philosophy. They are: (1) the (Yellow) River Chart or the Hetu 河圖, (2) the Writ of the Luo (River) or the Luoshu 洛書, (3) the Diagram of the Prior Heaven or the Xiantiantu 先天圖, (4) the Diagram of the Posterior Heaven or the Houtiantu 後天圖, and (5) the Diagram

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of the Great Polarity or the Taijitu 太極圖 (see charts A-F). The Xiantiantu and Houtiantu offer two arrangements of the eight trigrams from The Book of Changes. The Hetu and Luoshu had a long-standing tradition, in both Confucianism and Daoism, prior to the time of Zhu Xi (Saso 1978). According to Hsü Pao-chien, Zhu Xi and his befriended disciple Cai Yuanding 蔡元定 (a.k.a. Cai Jitong 蔡季通, 1135–1198) “… believed that the ‘River Map’ (Hetu or [Yellow] River Chart) and the ‘Lo-shu’ (Luoshu or Writ of the Luo [River]), which had been lost for thousands of years, were then for the first time restored!” (Hsü 1933: 44). This implies that Zhu Xi accepted the Mandate of Heaven (tianming 天命) theory which proposes that the charts appear only when a propitious emperor is on the throne. The personal value that Zhu Xi placed on the Hetu and Luoshu must be left for a later study. It is interesting to note that the Qing dynasty scholar Hu Wei 胡渭 (1633–1714) “… points out that the diagrams prefixed to Zhu Xi’s books [that is, The Original Meaning of The Zhou Book of Changes (Zhouyi benyi 周易本義) and A Beginner’s Guide to the Book of Changes (Yixue qimeng 易學啟蒙)] were due to the insistence of Cai Yuanding, somewhat against the wishes of Zhu Xi himself” (Hsü 1933: 47n68). However, according to Hsü, although the charts were transmitted to Zhu Xi via Shao Yong 邵雍 (1011–1077) and Liu Mu 劉牧 (1011–1064), Zhu Xi apparently reversed (or corrected) the titles of the Hetu and Luoshu as given by Liu Mu (Hsü 1933: 44n63). I turn now to discuss the Diagram of the Great Polarity. Although some scholars disagree with the Daoist, or even the Chinese, origin of the Diagram of the Great Polarity (Wilhelm 1967: Ɩx; Ching 2000: 235–41), as Qian Mu has pointed out, “… the Song dynasty Neo-Confucians (Lijia 理家) … commonly accepted that the source of Zhou Lianxi’s 周濂溪 (i.e., Zhou Dunyi 周 敦頤, 1017–1073) Taiji chart and Kangjie’s 康節 (i.e., Shao Yong) Xiantian chart could be traced back to Chen Xiyi 陳希夷 (i.e., Chen Tuan 陳摶, ca. 906–989), and Zhuzi did not attempt to cover-up the Daoist origin of the charts” (Qian 1986: 345; Fung 1952: 438; Hsü 1933: 39–40; Chan 1976: 280; Cady 1939: 63–64). Furthermore, setting aside Berling’s decisive argument which substantiates the Daoist origin of the chart, to claim that it is not of Chinese origin would mean that the intertwining-concentric circle symbol of the interlocking of yin and yang 陰陽, and the five-part mandala composed of the wuxing 五行, which are two uniquely Chinese concepts, are not Chinese at all—and this seems wrong and absurd. However, that the chart is uniquely Daoist has been argued for by Fung Yu-lan and Berling. Although I agree with Fung that the chart pre-dates the Song dynasty (960–1278), the preface to the … Diagram of the Wonderful-Secret Classic Shangfang Datong Zhenyuan Miaojingtu 上方大洞真元妙經圖 (hereafter Diagram of the Wonderful-Secret Classic Miaojingtu 妙經圖), which contains the Diagram of the Great Polarity (see Appendix I; Chart D), is prefixed to two texts, the Miaojingtu is the second text, and neither text is mentioned in the alleged Tang dynasty preface (Fung 1952: 438; Azuma 2017: 49–50). Angus Graham disputes the Tang origin of that text (Graham 1992: 172n18) and so does Kristofer Schipper

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Chart A Zhou Dunyi’s chart in the Explanation of the Diagram of the Great Polarity (Taijitu Shuo 太極圖說), also in Daozang jiyao 道藏輯要, vol. 216

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Chart B Zhou Dunyi, The Diagram of the Zhou (Dynasty Book of) Changes (Zhou Yi Tu 周易 圖), in Daoist Canon (Daozang 道藏), vol. 69, p. 1b. With stylistic differences the Diagram is similar to Chart A

(Schipper and Verellen 2004: 1216–23). Thus, more work needs to be done concerning the dating of the texts which contain the Taiji diagram. For example, the wuji 無 極 diagram (Appendix I; Chart E), which is missing the small “alchemical circle” and the lines connecting it to the phases fire and water, is also of unknown origin. Berling’s argument that the “… little circle beneath the five phases … (reveals) … the Daoist origin of the diagram,” is correct (Berling 1979: 130). Because that smaller, unmarked, sixth circle, which I refer to as the “alchemical circle,” is not mentioned in any Neo-Confucian explanation of the diagram (Berling 1979: 130), and because it apparently serves no function in a purely cosmogonic explanation of

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Chart C Liu Mu 劉牧. Dayi Xiangshu Goushentu 大易象數鉤深圖, in Daozang 道藏, vol. 70, p. 1b

the diagram, we must ask: why did Zhu Xi continue to draw that sixth, smaller, “alchemical circle” in transmitting the Diagram of the Great Polarity? Did he replicate the “alchemical circle” because he understood its esoteric use? (see Charts A–D). I would like to present a case that the previous interpretations of the Daoist and Neo-Confucian applications of the diagram of the Taiji are only partially correct. I propose that both the Daoists and the Neo-Confucians, or at least Zhu Xi, used the diagram in a twofold manner, namely, to chart the evolution of the cosmos—a type of cosmogony—and secondly as an (esoteric) diagram symbolizing the mystic’s return to union with the supreme ultimate—Dao as wuji and taiji.

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Chart D  Author unknown. The Shangfang Datong Zhenyuan Miaojingtu 上方大洞真元妙經圖, in Daozang 道藏, vol. 196, p. 3b. Fung Yu-lan dates the text to the Tang dynasty. A. C. Graham disputes that date and so do Schipper and Verellen 2004: 1216–23

First, we must recall that Zhu Xi apparently made some editorial alterations or corrections with Liu Mu’s 劉牧 (1011–1064) Hetu and Luoshu (Hsü 1933: 44n63). Why then did he not take the liberty to remove the “alchemical circle” especially since it plays no apparent cosmogonic role? Furthermore, the Diagram of the Great

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Chart E Liao Zhenzi 了真子 and Xiao Tingzhi 蕭廷之 (Yuan dynasty). Xiuzhen Shishu Jindan dachengji 修真十書金丹大成集, in Daozang 道藏, vol. 123, p. 1a

Polarity serves as the foundation of Zhu Xi’s metaphysics and his philosophical system. When Lu Xiangshan 陸象山 (1139–1192/93) attacked the authenticity and value of the Taiji diagram, he struck the core of Zhu Xi’s philosophy (Cady 1939: 282; Huang 1944: Ch. 4). Although the Qing scholars argued against a cosmological interpretation of the diagram, as Hsü has pointed out, “… it must have some cosmo-

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Chart F Wang Jichang 王吉昌 (Song dynasty), Huizhenji 會真集, in Daozang, vols. 116–17, p. la

logical significance… ” tied to divination as the Song thinkers were so artful in combining their cosmology with The Book of Changes (Hsu 1933: 41–42). Most contemporary scholars accept the findings of Huang Zongyan (Huang Tsung-yen 1616–1686) concerning the Daoist and Neo-Confucian applications of the diagram. Hsü and Fung discuss Huang’s interpretation: The Diagram of the Supreme Ultimate (i.e., Taiji) was invented by Ho-shang Kung (He-­ shang Gong 河上公, a late Han Daoist commentator on the Laozi) and handed down to Ch’en T’uan (Chen Tuan). It was originally called the Diagram of the Infinite (i.e., Wuji)

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and was used for obtaining the elixir…. Chou Tun-i (Zhou Dunyi) converted it to the diagram of the Supreme Ultimate, reversed its sequence, and surreptitiously attributed it to the Yijing. (Hsü 1933: 43)

And Fung proposes that: (Zhou Dunyi) maintained that it had been secretly transmitted by the Confucians.… the Daoist practitioners … orientated (their use of the diagram) from below upward. But Master Chou (Zhou) … orientated (his diagram) from above downward. (Fung 1952: 440, n1, n2)

Thus, it has been commonly accepted that the Daoists used the diagram to return to the cosmogonic source, that is reading the diagram from the bottom upward to the top as a meditation of return; whereas it is believed that the Neo-Confucians (only) applied the diagram in a cosmogonic manner, that is, reading the diagram from the top downward as a cosmogony. This view appears to me to be in error of both the Daoist and the Neo-Confucian, at least Zhu Xi’s, application of the diagram. The above view is a misinterpretation of Daoist metaphysics and cosmogony and Zhu Xi’s Neo-Confucian conception of the cultivation of sagehood. Daoists are concerned with both the return of the Dao and their return to the Dao; they are concerned with the metaphysical aspects of cosmogony as they relate to self-cultivation and inner-meditative alchemy. Daoists use the chart in both directions—upward to return to the Dao and downward for the return of the Dao. (Note that in many religio-­ philosophical systems there is some form of a “comprehensive circle,” e.g., the Cartesian circle, the Samsara–Nirvana circle, the hermeneutical circle, and so on.) The Laozi is well known for its cycle of reversion and the interpretations of a mystical or panenhenic (all in one) experience that accompany it, and its poems of generation, especially poem forty-two. Naturally, the Zhuangzi, in its antinomian spirit, rejects any conventionally affirmable cosmogony, and yet in his artful jest and play with allusion, Zhuangzi may very well have coined the expression “Taiji” (Zhuangzi 1956: 16/6/32). The Daoist roots of the expression are covered up sometimes because some translators appear to believe that “Taiji” is a Confucian concept from the Xicizhuan 繫辭傳 appendix to The Book of Changes (Yijing 易經). The Zhuangzi states: (Dao) zai taiji zhi xian er bu wei gao 在太極之先而不為高 (Zhuangzi 1956: 16/6/32). “The Dao is prior to the Great Polarity, Taiji, and yet it is not (called) grand.” Watson’s translation washes out the expression Taiji as “[i]t exists beyond the highest point, and yet you cannot call it grand” (Watson 1968: 81). The parallel structure of the passage warrants an interpretation that uses “taiji” as an adjective in this passage. After the Huainanzi 淮南子 (first century BCE.), Zhuangzi’s poetics served as the foundation for Daoist metaphysics and cosmogony which appears in such sources as the Liezi, Chap. 1, but note that the cosmogony of generation is not a simplex temporal development from “Primal Simplicity” through the four steps to “Primal Material.” Rather, the context gives the reader a feeling of a co-temporal process which is in-finite or ab-solute, not limited—in its imperceptible quality of unboundedness (Graham 1990: 18–20). I belabor the point concerning the sophistication of Daoist metaphysics, because it appears at some of its dialectical heights in the Miaojingtu, the text Fung dates to the Tang period, while Graham and Schipper

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dispute that early date. The following passage follows the text’s copy of the Diagram of the Prior Heaven Great Polarity Taiji Xiantiantu (see Appendix I; Chart D): As for the consciousness-spirit (shen 神) of the Primal Simplicity, the energy-breath (qi 氣) of the Primal Commencement, the vital-essence (jing 精) of the Primal Beginning, and the form of the Primal Material which are the principle-way (Dao) of the Great Polarity (Taiji) which is without past and present, without beginning, without end. Since the Simplicity (yi 易, implying both “to change” and the Book of Changes) has the Taiji, it allows for the generation of the two principles (liangyi 兩儀) …. (Miaojingtu 1924–1926: 4a)

Regardless of the date of the Miaojingtu, the Taiji diagram was interpreted in a cosmological sense with connections and references to The Book of Changes. Therefore, despite the Qing dynasty scholars’ rebuttals, even the Daoist use of the diagram apply it cosmologically and with The Book of Changes. Of course, the little “alchemical circle” is not discussed since it is esoteric and not open to public understanding. Therefore, Daoists use the Taiji diagram, exoterically, as a cosmogonic “map” and, esoterically, as an inner-meditative alchemy (mandala-like) chart for union with the Way of the Great Polarity (Taiji zhi Dao 太極之道). Given the pre-Song dynasty exoteric use of the Taiji diagram, it is of little doubt that both Zhou Dunyi and Zhu Xi would continue the exoteric transmission in writing. Of course, to prove that Zhu Xi understood the esoteric use of the diagram may well be an impossible task, especially given the oral tradition of the esoteric school (kou jue 口訣). However, as I will show in the next two sections, in discussing Zhu Xi’s commentaries on two important neidan texts, his understanding must have been comprehensive and complete. Given the completeness of his other works and speculations, one would form the understanding that Zhu Xi must have a cosmogonic cycle of evolution and devolution, generation and return to the source, generally like the Daoist cosmogonic cycle, but specifically quite different because the Confucian diagram generates the five key social virtues (wude 五德), while the Daoist’s diagram generates the cultivation of a person’s vital-essence, jing 精, energy-breath, qi 氣, and consciousness-spirit shen 神. Although the pre-Song dynasty Confucians did not have a cosmogony, still they were concerned, though not in a mystical sense, with re-uniting with the Dao. The Confucian sage (shengren 聖人) functions in harmony with the Dao of civil and social order. Zhu Xi’s conception of the role and function of the sage stresses a “… return to the simple truth” of the Dao (Chan 1967: 2) I tentatively offer the following six points to show that Zhu Xi must have understood the Diagram of the Great Polarity, not only as a cosmogonic diagram, but also as a meditative process for developing the passivity and openness (jing 靜) of the Taiji zhi Dao 太極之道 (Dao of the Taiji). First, because Zhu Xi acknowledged the Daoist origin of the diagram, and because he does not mention in his writings or discussions about the Taiji diagram what the purpose of the “alchemical circle” is, and yet he did not delete its excess complexity; this and Zhu Xi’s study of neidan Daoism implies that he must have had some understanding of the “alchemical circle” in the Diagram of the Great Polarity. However, currently we do not know what Zhu Xi’s understanding of the “alchemical circle” was. That Zhu Xi might have understood the diagram as a

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meditative process for re-union with the absolute is implied by his philosophy and temperament. Second, Tomoeda Ryūtarō has shown that Zhu Xi’s personality was more attuned, in his early years after his father’s death, to meditation without thinking (Mozhao chan 默照禪, i.e., Song dynasty Soto Zen meditation). This temperament for a quiet withdrawn perspective influenced Zhu Xi’s later philosophical approach. Although Zhu Xi was corrected by his later Masters, for stressing “… unity with the Way amidst secluded quiet and apprehension of wuweifa 無為法 (the principle of effortless activity)” (Tomoeda 1971: 53); nevertheless, he did not completely reject it. In his mature thinking Zhu Xi attempted to balance passivity and action. Third, Zhu Xi’s philosophical use of meditation to correct the intentions or will, his book Breath Control, Tiaoxizhen 調息箴, his ten year long struggle with the concepts “hitting the mark and achieving harmony zhonghe 中和,” and his integration of movement and quiescence or the aroused and pre-aroused emotions yifa weifa 已發未發 as principles of the Great Polarity, as well as the expression “from non-polarity to great polarity” wuji er taiji 無極而太極—the alpha and omega of his metaphysics—all of his methodological and theoretical considerations attempt to harmonize a dialectical opposition which is rooted in the cosmogonic cycle of evolution and devolution—ontology and de-­ontology (Tomoeda 1971: 60; Liu 1970: 312). Fourth, Zhu Xi’s method of learning, and its goal, stress a personal transformation and return to one’s original nature. As Hsü sums up Zhu Xi’s goal of learning in the following: The generally accepted objective of learning, resolution, and reflection is, of course, the elimination of selfish desires, the transformation of the material nature and the restoration of the original nature. According to Chu Hsi [Zhu Xi] human desire is acquired and is not innate. (Hsü 1933: 117n35)

By means of learning, Zhu Xi sought to restore the original nature, which is conveyed in his often-quoted passage from the Mengzi: “The sole concern of learning is to go after this strayed heart” (Hsü 1933: 126n52; Lau 1979: 167). Thus, Zhu Xi’s concept of sagehood requires a recovery of the lost heart, that is, a return to the original nature, which is rooted in the Great Polarity. Fifth, to quiet the mind by making it passive and open by concentrating on the tranquil-passivity (jing 靜) of the yin 陰 aspect of the Great Polarity, so as to prepare oneself for activity is implied by an upward orientation of the Diagram of the Great Polarity by reading it from the bottom up, and here such a meditation on tranquil-passivity (jing 靜) parallels with Zhu Xi’s teaching on mindful-sincerity (jing 敬), that is, “… to clear away wandering thoughts and stray ideas; from beginning to end, let there be a spirit of reverence (or mindful-sincerity)… ” (Hsü 1933: 116). Finally, the complexity of the relationship between the two homophones jing 靜 and jing 敬 is deeply rooted in Zhu Xi’s studies and interests in the Book of Changes and divination. It is clear, the Qing dynasty scholar’s attack on the Diagram of the Great Polarity is mostly due to their lack of interest in the Book of Changes and the Song dynasty numerological interpretations of it (Hsü 1933: 40–41). Why Zhu Xi was interested in the Book of Changes; why he practiced divination; why he allowed Cai Yuanding to put the

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River Chart, the Writ of the Luo (River), the Diagram of the Prior Heaven, and the Diagram of the Posterior Heaven in his works on the Book of Changes, and why he studied numerology are all important questions for understanding the interplay of tranquil-passivity (jing 靜) and mindful-sincerity (jing 敬) in his thought. In its most complete form the Diagram of the Great Polarity was used, exoterically, as an explanation of the evolution of the cosmos, and it had an esoteric inner-­ meditative alchemy function for union with the Way of the Great Polarity Taiji zhi Dao. From the above six points, one can infer that Zhu Xi must have had an esoteric understanding of the diagram such that he continued to represent the “alchemical circle” to indicate to the knowledgeable that the diagram could be used meditatively for regaining one’s nature. Thus, the diagram requires more study to show that Zhu Xi intended his disciples to thoroughly investigate things and exhaustively-­ comprehend pattern/principle gewu qiongli 格物窮理 or in this case to completely study the parts and patterns of the diagram. However, the diagram must play an important role in the process of cultivating sagehood because Zhu Xi placed it first in Zhou Lianxi’s 周濂溪 (Zhou Dunyi’s) work, and first in his own handbook on sagehood—the Jinsilu 近思錄.

4.2 An Examination of Differences in the Seal of the Unity of the Three in the Zhou Book of Changes (Zhouyi Cantongqi Kaoyi 周易參同契考異) The inner-meditative neidan influence on Zhu Xi’s concept of the cultivation of sagehood is even more clearly seen in his commentary on the Seal of the Unity of the Three in the Zhou Book of Changes (Zhouyi Cantongqi, commonly known as the Zhouyi Cantongqi Kaoyi) but it was published during the Song under the title A Commentary on the Seal of the Unity of the Three in the Zhou Book of Changes (Zhouyi Cantongqi Zhu 周易參同契註) and is found in the Daoist Canon (Daozang 道藏) under that title (Zhu 1924–1926; Pregadio 2011; Liu 1978: 369–70; Wylie 1964: 218–19). Before I discuss Zhu Xi’s study of the text allow me to briefly digress to recapitulate some of the historical events which led to his study. As Qian Mu has pointed out, The Li-school (Lijia 理家) of the Song dynasty enjoyed discussing the Book of Changes. They also enjoyed discussing the cosmos, yin and yang, cosmogony and evolution. They discussed all of this as connected with the Daoist followers of the Lao–Zhuang school. (Qian 1986: 345)

The Neo-Confucian concern with cosmology and their borrowing from Daoist mathematical interpretations of the Book of Changes (hereafter The Changes) are intimately linked with the social and spiritual crisis presented by the ever-growing, chiefly Buddhist, Northern kingdoms which had been encroaching on the mandarin-­ scholars since the mid-Tang dynasty (Hsü 1933: 59, 39–40). The political unrest of

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the times forced many Confucians out of office and into early retirement, and thus with spare time on their hands, they turned to the study of The Changes, numerology, and inner-meditative alchemy (neidan) Daoism (Berling 1979: 126–27; Hsü 1933: 39–48; Fung 1952, vol. 2: 424–27). Furthermore, Zhu Xi was one of these scholars whose political career suffered because of the political crisis of the day. Since Zhu Xi had already developed a “proto-scientific” attitude from his studies of the classics and his bureaucratic experiences (Tomoeda 1971: 67–68, 59–60), he naturally carried this approach with him when he studied the The Changes, astronomy, numerology, and inner-meditative neidan. Although he was strictly a Neo-­ Confucian and even publicly denounced Daoism, Zhu Xi appears to have taken it quite seriously regarding meditative practices and self-cultivation. When we consider the xenophobic attitude of the Confucian scholars of the Song dynasty, and the long-standing Chinese approach of unity in opposition to foreigners, especially Buddhists, then Liu Ts’un-yan’s (Liu Cunren 柳存仁) hypothesis that Zhu Xi “… was thus more inclined towards Daoism, at least regarding mental cultivation …” appears to be reasonably tenable (Liu 1970: 312). This claim does not deny the Buddhist influence on Zhu Xi; it merely points out that as a gentry scholar, he was personally more influenced by the native perspective of Daoism. Of course, Song dynasty Daoism was strongly influenced by Buddhism. Because The Seal of the Unity of the Three in the Zhou Book of Changes was accepted as a Daoist commentary to the Book of Changes, it is not surprising that Zhu Xi’s attention was drawn toward that book. Furthermore, if the Qing dynasty scholars’, for examples, Mao Qiling 毛奇齡 and Qiu Zhaoao 仇兆鰲, speculations concerning the possibility that The Seal of the Unity of the Three in the Zhou Book of Changes contained certain charts (from which either the Taiji diagram was constructed, Mao’s view, or the actual diagram itself was present, which is Qiu’s implication by including the diagram in his reconstruction of the text) (Fung 1952, vol. 2: 440–41; Qiu 1977) are valid, then it would appear that neidan Daoism must have had a deep influence on Zhu Xi’s philosophy. However, to substantiate this claim requires further research into the nature and origin of The Seal of the Unity of the Three in the Zhou Book of Changes and the Diagram of the Great Polarity. Let us note what The Seal of the Unity of the Three in the Zhou Book of Changes has to say concerning the sage’s use of charts. The Seal of the Unity of the Three in the Zhou Book of Changes and Zhu Xi’s commentary make references to the River Chart and to the use of “maps” or diagrams (tu 圖) several times. In a later section of the text, which Fukui Kojun dates as a later interpolation but accepts as part of the text by the end of the Tang dynasty (Fukui 1974: 21), there is an interesting discussion of the use of charts (biao 表): The writings on the I (The Changes) by the three sages have a common goal, which is to propound according to the Li (patterned/principle) and to cause the spirit to shine forth…. A chart is drawn up for men of the future to follow, enabling them to carry out their processes in the proper order and in a simple manner. He who properly cultivates his inner nature … will be able to return to his true root and origin. (Wu and Davis 1932: 261; Pregadio 2011: 114; Zhu 1924–1926: 6a)

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This section to the “Epilogue” of The Seal of the Unity of the Three in the Zhou Book of Changes reads as though there were charts appended to the text. This maybe the reason why Mao argues that there were charts in the text before Zhu Xi’s commentary was published, and if the charts were removed as Mao contends, then this would show that some of the later Neo-Confucians did attempt to conceal the Daoist origin of the charts (Fung 1952, vol. 2: 440).3 Fukui appears to be correct on dating the later sections as the above passage conflicts considerable with a passage from the inner text. In this passage, we are told that the sage cannot depend on making diagrams alone. Again, quoting Wu and Davis’s translation: … The male and female are interdependent…. Its mysteriousness renders it difficult to surmise and impossible to picture (buke huatu 不可畫圖—impossible to make a diagram). The sage uses his own judgement to arrive at the essentials. (Wu and Davis 1932: 245; Pregadio 2011: 92; Zhu 1924–1926: 1a)

This passage has the flavor of Zhuangzi mysticism; where the sage is left to her own wits. Then, the text admits that its “… words are modelled on the sayings of the sages” (Wu and Davis 1932: 245; Pregadio 2011: 92; Zhu 1924–1926: 18b). The above two passages typify the exoteric/esoteric nature of the text. The former passage is exoteric in that it is concerned with transmitting charts for “men of the future” to utilize; whereas the latter passage has a more mystical and esoteric connotation. Zhu Xi avoids commentating on these passages in his commentary. Thus, to gain a full understanding of Zhu Xi’s appreciation of the exoteric and esoteric interpretations of the text and to see what, if any, effect The Seal of the Unity of the Three had on his conception of sagehood, we need to turn to other sources to study Zhu Xi’s views concerning the text and changsheng 長生 (the indefinite extension of life—immortality). There are two reasons why I must approach the study, of the influence of The Seal of the Unity of the Three on Zhu Xi’s concept of the cultivation of sagehood, from outside sources. First, there is the problem of Zhu Xi’s understanding of the text. Second there is the problem of how to interpret the text on the question of immortality: does it espouse a physical immortality or a spiritual-mystical immortality? Of course, the second question is important because the concepts of self-­ cultivation and sagehood are deeply interrelated, in Chinese thought, with views on immortality (see above). How did Zhu Xi understand and make use of The Seal of the Unity of the Three? To answer this question, we must always keep in mind that Zhu Xi, being the great champion of classical Confucian learning, was in a precarious situation publishing a commentary on an esoteric Daoist alchemical treatise. Therefore, Zhu Xi created the elaborate pseudonym Zou Xi (or Xin as in Tsou Hsin) 鄒訢 (xin is read as xi

 I have compared Bodde’s translation with Fung’s Zhonggou Zhexue shi, although I have not cited it above. 3

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熹) and the pen name Kongtong Daoshi 空同道士 (the Daoist Master of Voided Identity), which could be an allusion to the Kongtong 崆峒 Mountain (Zhu 1924–1926: 1b, under “Huang Ruijie’s 黃瑞節 Preface”; Liu 1978: 369–70; Wylie 1964: 219). Zou 鄒 refers to the ancient state that the Zhu family allegedly originated from and Xin or Xi 訢 is a homophone for his name. Since Zhu Xi was willing to, at least, consider himself a Daoist (i.e., Daoshi 道士, Daoist priest or layman who has mastered the arts of Dao) in jest as a pseudonym, it appears that he did get along quite well with Daoists (see above). Thus, more study needs to be conducted concerning his relationship with Cai Yuanding (Ts’ai Yuan-ting) and others. Since Zhu Xi was in a precarious situation, it is only natural that he would not disclose his own views concerning sagehood in general; rather he would only interpret the text at hand as he does. Therefore, when Zhu Xi refers to the sage or shengren 聖人, in his commentary, it is done so in a very Confucian vein as the sages who wrote the six classics, but then again Confucius plays an important role in The Seal of the Unity of the Three. A section of the text, to which Zhu Xi comments on the sage, reads as follows: … And then Confucius wrote commentaries on the Great Beginning of Things…. The sages do not lead uneventful lives…. They follow the wax and wane of these signs and direct their efforts according to timeliness. (Wu and Davis 1932: 233–34; Pregadio 2011: 73; Zhu 1924–1926: 6a)

Zhu Xi’s commentary to the above quote mostly focuses on the unquoted material concerning the use of the trigrams for dividing the periods of a month, and then he says: Therefore, increase your effort of meditative-cultivation (xiulian 修煉). Be like the sages who wrote the six (Confucian) classics. They all had their point of departure. (Zhu 1924– 1926: 6b)

It seems clear from this passage that Zhu Xi was able to synthesize his study of both Confucian and Daoist approaches in the cultivation of sagehood. However, most of what we know to be Zhu Xi’s view of the text comes from the Collection of Literary Works by Master Zhu (Zhuwengong wenji 朱文公文集; Zhu 1980: 23–24a). I counted more than ten editorial citations where Huang Ruijie added Zhu Xi’s comments into his edition of the commentary. As Qian Mu has pointed out, Zhu Xi encountered The Seal of the Unity of the Three when he was in his twenties, but he did not publish his commentary until some forty years later (Qian 1986: 345). It was some time in the year 1197 that Zhu Xi and Cai Yuanding, supposedly, “… passed a sleepless night to revise the edition of the Cantongqi” (Liu 1978: 397; Pian 1976: 1037–39). In a reply to Yuan Jizhong (1131–1205), Zhu Xi states: The text The Seal of the Unity of the Three was not originally written to explain the Book of Changes. Rather it borrowed the principle of correlating the stems (najia 納甲) to establish the proper cycles of fanning (the furnace) and adding (reagents) and withdrawing (products). At times I desired to study the text, but I did not receive its transmission. So, I could not get a good grasp on it. (Qian 1986: 345; Zhu 1980: 716; and see Needham 1956: 330)

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Although Zhu Xi admits that he did not have a full grasp on the text, Needham translates and relies upon Zhu Xi’s commentary, especially his explanation of the alchemists’ apparatus, as if Zhu Xi were a knowledgeable alchemist (Needham 1956: 330–31). Thus, two things become clear in understanding Zhu Xi’s interpretation of the text, namely, that he used it to study: (1) immortality or extending life (changsheng 長生), and (2) the najia theory of correlating the hexagrams and the ten heavenly stems. Qian Mu has quoted Zhu Xi’s reminiscence of reading a poem which referred to the divine fungus (zhi 芝) of long-life, and Zhu Xi’s jesting response which refers to the Golden Elixir jindan 金丹. Qian Mu proposes that this led to Zhu’s study of immortality (changsheng), which he augmented by investigating The Seal of the Unity of the Three. The question of how to interpret this text’s understanding of immortality is the second important question noted above. After Qian Mu cites Zhu’s reply to Yuan (cited above), he continues saying: The book (The Seal of the Unity of the Three) was then present before 1197, and with it Zhuzi sought to study immortality (changsheng). Furthermore, (by writing his commentary) he left the lasting impression in writing that The Seal of the Unity of the Three was the first book to contain the najia theory. Since he quotes this book in his writings, it shows that he did pay attention to it. (Qian 1986: 346)

It appears that Zhu Xi was predominately interested in the najia theory, and he argues for an hermeneutical understanding of the presence of the najia theory “contained” in the text, that is to say that, many people contended that the text did not originally employ the najia theory, but Zhu Xi argues that the theory can be applied to the text (Qian 1986: 346). Zhu Xi noted that a proper reading of the text uses the najia explanation (Zhu 1980: 610). Furthermore, the najia system would be used for keeping time which is important for both external (waidan) and internal (neidan) alchemical practices, that was noted above, the proper times for heating, adding, and withdrawing chemicals, or images in meditation, and the najia method of keeping time can be used in numerology and divination. Zhu Xi must have used this system of time keeping to “… support his theory of the seven inter-clay months in nineteen years” (Tomoeda 1971: 63–64). So, we can see that the text has numerological and mathematical applications for Zhu. We must turn to the second question of the text’s understanding of immortality to see more precisely what relationship Zhu Xi’s concept of sagehood might have had with The Seal of the Unity of the Three and inner-meditative neidan alchemy Daoism. The second question concerning how we are to interpret The Seal of the Unity of the Three’s understanding of immortality becomes a twofold question, for we not only need to know how to interpret the text, but we also need to know how Zhu Xi understood the text on this question and his view of immortality. Tentatively it seems best to accept Liu Ts’un-yan’s view that the text is a dual-­ cultivation text, that is, both a waidan and neidan treatise (Liu 1968: 1). Given E. J. Holmyard’s discussion of esoteric and exoteric alchemy and their interdependence (Holmyard 1968), it seems best to accept that the alleged king of all Chinese alchemical texts was likewise written with at least two perspectives or alternate

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readings in the mind(s) of the author(s). The intentional concealment of meaning is a common trait among many systems of alchemy. Thus, we must tentatively accept that the text holds both a neidan perspective of mystical or spiritual immortality that is couched in waidan physical-chemical immortality terms and expressions. The study of Zhu Xi’s views on immortality would be a trying task if it were not for D. Bodde’s essay on this very topic (Bodde 1942). Bodde’s conclusion might have been surprising, when it was published in the 1940s. However, it is no longer surprising to hear that Zhu Xi’s view of immortality is aligned with what Bodde’s article primarily focuses on, namely, the contrast between his interpretation of an alleged Buddhist view of personal immortality and the Chinese denial of it for a metaphysical interpretation of a mystical-spiritual immortality of the Daoists’ panenhenic, all is one experience. Then, he concludes: Against this [what was then accepted to be the Chinese Buddhist view of personal immortality], Chu Hsi [Zhu Xi] counters with his concept of a wholly impersonal type of immortality; according to which Law or li, though itself universal, becomes temporarily manifested as the Nature in an infinitude of ever changing physical objects, departing again upon extinction of these objects, but continuing to exist ever unchanged within the metaphysical world of Law which transcends our sensory universe. In formulating such a theory, it seems clear that Chu Hsi was simply following the attitude generally held by Chinese philosophy, especially Taoism, while adapting it to his own particular metaphysical framework. (Bodde 1942: 380–81, emphasis added)

When we place Bodde’s conclusion beside the above discussion of Zhu Xi’s study of The Seal of the Unity of the Three in the Book of Changes, it becomes clear that Zhu Xi was influenced by Daoism, especially the more metaphysical or mystical-­ spiritual interpretation of “impersonal immortality.” In concluding this section, I would like to make the following six points. First, prior to Zhu Xi there was a developing Neo-Confucian interest in Daoist cosmology and mathematical interpretations of The Book of Changes, and Zhu Xi was part of a Neo-Confucian linage with certain Daoist interests. Second, more research needs to be done to prove or refute Mao Qiling’s theory that the Diagram of the Great Polarity was derived from diagrams in The Seal of the Unity of the Three, for this question holds an important link in the development of Neo-Confucianism. Third, the text of The Seal of the Unity of the Three requires more study, and especially Zhu Xi’s commentary with emphasis on key philosophical terms. Fourth, Zhu Xi’s outside references to the text require further study. Fifth, it seems clear that Zhu Xi did study the text for information concerning impersonal metaphysical immortality. He was interested in the health benefits of living longer (changsheng 長生), and he used the text to generate the najia theory. Sixth, if in fact the text, which is debated, is not a Confucian apocryphal text to begin with, given its praise of Confucius, but is a Daoist alchemy treatise, then it seems clear that Zhu Xi’s study of it and the Zhuangzi led to his metaphysical view of metaphysical, mystical-­ spiritual, or impersonal immortality. The influence of inner-meditative alchemy Daoism on Zhu Xi’s concept of the cultivation of sagehood is even more clearly seen in his commentary on the Huangdi Yinfujing.

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4.3 A Commentary on The Yellow Emperor’s Classic of the Secret Talisman (Huangdi Yinfujing Zhujie 黃帝陰 符經註解) The Classic of the Secret Talisman, Yinfujing, is a beautifully written religio-­ philosophical meditative treatise that has been somewhat neglected by scholars. The fact that Zhu Xi took the time to write a commentary on this insightful little ­masterpiece shows what value he placed on it. A.  Wylie remarks that Zhu Xi wanted the text to be placed in “the national literature” (Wylie 1964: 216; see Qian 1986: 347). Ching notes that there is some controversy regarding whether Zhu Xi or Cai Yuanding or someone else wrote this commentary (Ching 2000: 164, 167). I propose that Zhu or that he and Cai wrote the commentary for the following reasons. It is interesting to note that like The Explanation of the Diagram of Great Polarity, and The Seal of the Unity of the Three, Zhu Xi’s commentary to The Classic of the Secret Talisman is also found in the Daoist Canon (Daozang 道藏) published by Imperial command during the Ming dynasty in 1445. However, the commentary to The Classic of the Secret Talisman is attributed to Zou Xi (Tsou Hsi) the Daoist Master of Voided Identity (Kongtong Daoshi 空同道士), i.e., Zhu Xi’s pseudonym. However, the text uses Kongtong 崆峒 with the mountain radical either to allude to those mountains or to further obfuscate the pseudonym. Thus, the text slipped pass the imperial editors not being identified as Zhu Xi’s commentary, but the text has been edited and various additional statements of Zhu Xi’s have been added, beginning with the expression “Master Zhu said” (Zhuzi yue 朱子曰) and these inserted comments are followed by the unknown editor’s statements, beginning with “editor’s note” (an 按). The final entry by the editor is of interest: … Moreover (they use these texts) to fathom The Changes. … (they) use the Yinfu (jing—The Classic of the Secret Talisman) and the Cantong (qi— The Seal of the Unity of the Three) with extensive examination and care, not being inattentive. This being the case, then the ones who are aware of the method/way (dao) assuredly join these two books with The Changes and apply them for the same purpose. (Zou 1924– 1926a: vol. 58, 10a, lines 3–5)

Thus, we can understand the Neo-Confucian interest in these Daoist texts concerned with self-cultivation and the cosmos that explicate an interpretation of The Book of Changes. The text itself is primarily concerned with self-cultivation for the actualization of sagehood, and its primary method involves the “productive” and the “destructive” arrangements of the five phases (wuxing 五行) such that by harmonizing the five phases in their “productive” sequence a person cultivates sagehood. Therefore, the text was of interest to Zhu Xi such that he wrote a commentary on it. However, if Qian Mu is correct in saying that Zhu Xi was sixty-one years old when Lü Qiu 閭 丘 showed him The Classic of the Secret Talisman, then apparently it could not have had much effect or influence on the development of Zhu Xi’s thought. Zhu Xi’s commentary to The Classic of the Secret Talisman deserves more study, especially

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to grasp his mature thought on Daoist philosophy. Regarding the thesis at hand, it is important that we note that even in his closing years Zhu Xi maintained a life-long interest in the study of Daoist self-cultivation texts. Although the text is quite short, less than five hundred characters, there is a considerable amount of philosophical terminology and discussion. More research needs to be done on the development of a hermeneutic of li 理 (pattern/principle) and qi 氣 (energy-breath) in The Classic of the Secret Talisman. Chan Wing-tsit has explicated the use of patter/principle (li) in the Confucian tradition (Chan 1969b). However, there is not yet an adequate study of the various classical theories ­concerning energy-breath (qi) that Zhu Xi was drawing upon. As D. C. Lau has pointed out, Mengzi had his own unique theory of energy-breath (qi) (Lau 1979: 25). Zhu Xi also studied Xunzi’s theory of pattern/principle (li) and energy-breath (qi). Of course, Xunzi was at the Jixia Academy (ca. 264 BCE.) during its final years (Watson 1964: 2). The Daoist “Arts of the Heart-mind Part I” (xinshu shang 心術 上) chapter of Master Guan (Guanzi 管子), an eclectic work of the Jixia Academy with Daoist influences, is noted for its statement that “Rightness (yi 義) accommodates to what is fitting (yi 宜). Rightness is the base of pattern/principle (li 理); and pattern/principle is the base of ritual-action (li 禮)” (Guo 1962–1963: 644). As Tu Weiming has pointed out, the theories of the Huang–Lao school require further study to assist in our perspective and understanding of the Hanfeizi 韓非子, the Lüshi Chunqiu 呂氏春秋 and the Huainanzi (Tu 1979: 107). Thus, nothing short of a comprehensive critical hermeneutic study of pattern/principle (li) and energybreath (qi), in the various schools of the Zhou and early Han, up to the time of Zhu Xi, will sufficiently show to what extent and detail Zhu Xi was influenced in the cultivation of sagehood by the Daoist arts (daoshu 道術) of purifying the energybreath (qi 氣), because as both Qian and Ching point out Zhu studied Daoist meditation and other practices (Qian 1986: 347; Ching 2000: 166).

5 Conclusion Zhu Xi had a life-long interest in the study of Daoism. Through Zhou Dunyi, the Daoist Diagram of the Great Polarity came to serve as the bases for Neo-Confucian cosmogony. Zhu Xi, who is responsible for the diagram’s transmission, must have had an esoteric understanding of it. He understood the Diagram of the Great Polarity, like the Daoists, as a cosmogonic circle—as the ontological generation and the de-­ ontological, panenhenic, mystical return to the source. The Diagram of the Great Polarity, along with the River Chart (Hetu 河圖), Writ of the Luo (River) (Luoshu 洛書), Prior Heaven (Xiantian 先天), and Posterior Heaven (Houtian 後天) Diagrams, played an important role in Zhu Xi’s study of The Book of Changes and its interpenetration with the cosmos via divination. There was a long historical precedence of borrowing Daoist interpretations of The Book of Changes. Zhu Xi was a member of a linage of Neo-Confucians who were influenced by Daoism, e.g., Zhou Dunyi, Shao Yong, Zhang Zai, Cheng

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Hao, Cheng Yi, and others. It should be noted that some of them, especially Cheng Yi, were more critical of the beliefs of Song dynasty Daoism, especially the legends of the gods and immortals or shenxian 神仙 (Chan 1967: 285), while Zhu Xi was more open minded. Furthermore, after the arrival of Buddhism, the Confucians commonly sided with the Daoist teaching to oppose foreign influence. Zhu Xi’s intense love of learning and study of ancient texts led him to master even the Daoist meditative treatises. His constant-desire to thoroughly investigate things and exhaustively-comprehend pattern/principle (gewu qiongli 格物窮理) allowed him to approach a variety of subjects with an open and serious attitude of mindful-sincerity (jing 敬). Furthermore, his practical humanistic approach cannot be forgotten, in that he sought to synthesize the arts of Daoism, Buddhism, medicine, and divination for the betterment and benefit of mankind (Qian 1986: 347). Thus, it is not surprising that his theory of sagehood is influenced by inner-­meditative neidan Daoism. The subtlety of influence of Daoism on Zhu Xi’s thought, as seen in the jing 靜 (tranquil) and jing 敬 (mindful-sincerity) relationship needs further investigation. Additional study is required of Zhu Xi’s commentaries on The Seal of the Unity of the Three and The Classic of the Secret Talisman, and the relationship of the Diagram of the Great Polarity with The Seal of the Unity of the Three. Further study is required of the Daoist influence on Zhu Xi’s religio-philosophical thought, especially his understanding of the practice of the purification of energy-breath (qi 氣) for the attainment of sagehood. The religio-philosophical atmosphere of the Song dynasty needs to be reappraised with a phenomenological-historical critical-­ hermeneutical method to better elucidate the cultural and philosophical environment. There is a need to explicate the Song dynasty interactions of Daoism and Confucianism to better understand the Ming and Qing interactions whose foundations were established in the Song period. Because Zhu Xi’s philosophical preferences influenced subsequent generations, his commentaries on the Diagram of the Great Polarity and The Seal of the Unity of the Three made those books popular topics of study in the Ming and Qing periods and on to this day. Let me close with Zhu’s poem to the Dao, cited by Ching, to illustrate his panenhenic experience of unity. Hearing the Dao, I have nothing else to do. The hundred anxieties are all gone. What is it that separates me and thee? No place prevents the penetration of [all things]. Of yore [I was] a lad in green. The morrow sees me old and white-haired. The heavenly mystery is what it is: No intended rush [marks our lives]. (Ching 2000: 170) Acknowledgments  I owe a special thanks of gratitude to Kirill Ole Thompson, Ng Kai-chiu, Huang Yong, Stephen Eskildsen, and the two anonymous referees for their assistance.

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References Azuma, Juji. 吾妻重二. 2017. New Research on the Study of Master Zhu (Xi) 朱子學的 新研究—近世士大夫思想的展開. Beijing 北京: The Commercial Press 商務印書館. (This is an excellent comprehensive study of Zhu’s philosophy.) Balazs, Ėtienne, and Yves Hervouet, ed. 1978. A Sung Bibliography. Hong Kong: The Chinese University Press. Berling, Judith A. 1979. “Paths of Convergence: Interactions of Inner Alchemy Taoism and Neo-­ Confucianism,” Journal of Chinese Philosophy 6: 123–47. (This article reveals some of the Daoist influences on Zhu Xi’s thinking.) Bodde, Derk. 1942 May. “The Chinese View of Immortality: Its Expression by Chu Hsi and Its Relationship to Buddhist Thought.” Review of Religion 6: 369–83. Cady, Lyman V. 1939. The Philosophy of Lu Hsiang-shan: A Neo-Confucian Monistic Idealist. Taipei: Pacific Cultural Foundation. (A dated but good source containing translations and analysis.) Chan, Wing-tsit, trans. 1967. Reflections on Things at Hand: The Neo-Confucian Anthology. New York: Columbia University Press. (This is a translation of Zhu Xi’s work.) ———. 1969a. Neo-Confucianism, etc.: Essays. Hanover: Oriental Society. ———. 1969b. “The Development of Li as principle.” In Neo-Confucianism, etc.: Essays. Hanover: Oriental Society. (This article provides a comprehensive review of pattern-principle li.) ———. 1975. “Chu Hsi’s appraisal of Lao Tzu.” Philosophy East and West 25.2: 131–144. (Zhu preferred the Laozi to the Zhuangzi.) ———. 1976. “Chou Tun-I,” 280. In Herbert Franke, ed., Sung Biographies. Wiesbaden: Franz Steiner Verlag GMBH. Chang, Chung-yuan. 1963. Creativity and Taoism: A Study of Chinese Philosophy, Art, and Poetry. New York: Harper & Row. Chen, Guofu. 陳國符. 1963. A Critical Study of the Daoist Canon 道藏源流考. Beijing 北京: China Books 中華書局. Ching, Julia. 2000. The Religious Thought of Chu Hsi. New York: Oxford University Press. (A most insightful and comprehensive investigation of the role of religion and spiritualism in Zhu Xi.) de Bary, W. Theodore, ed. 1970. Self and Society in Ming Thought. New York: Columbia University Press. Doré, Henry S. J. 1914–1938. Researches into Chinese Superstitions. Shanghai: T’usewei Printing Press. Franke, Herbert, ed. 1976. Sung Biographies. Wiesbaden: Franz Steiner Verlag GMBH. Fukui, Kojun. 1974. “A Study of the Chou I Ts’an T’ung Ch’i (Zhouyi Cantongqi).” Acata Asiata 27: 19–32. Fung, Yu-lan (Feng, Youlan) 馮友蘭. 1935. History of Chinese Philosophy 中國哲學史. Shanghai 上海: Commercial Press 商務印書館. Fung, Yu-lan. 1952. History of Chinese Philosophy, vols. 1 & 2. Translated by Derk Bodde. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Graham, A. C. 1960. The Book of Lieh-tzu: A Classic of the Tao. New York: Columbia University Press. ———. 1990. The Book of Lieh-tzŭ: A Classic of the Tao. New York: Columbia University Press. ———. 1992. Two Chinese Philosophers: The Metaphysics of the Brothers Ch’eng. La Salle: Open Court. Guo, Moruo 郭沫若, ed. 1962–1963. Collected Commentaries on the Guanzi 管子集校. Taipei 臺 北: Kexue chubanshe 科學出版社. Holmyard, Eric J. 1968. Alchemy. Reprint in 1968. London: Penguin Books. Hsiao, Kung-chuan. 1979. A History of Chinese Political Thought. Translated by F.  W. Mote. Princeton: Princeton University Press.

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Hsü, Pao-chien. 1933. “Ethical Realism in Neo-Confucian Thought.” Ph.D.  Diss., Columbia University. (This work provides many insights into Zhu Xi’s sources and later influences.) Huang, Siu-chi. 1944. Lu Hsiang-shan: A Twelfth Century Chinese Idealist Philosopher. New Haven: American Oriental Society. Lau, D. C., trans. 1979. Mencius. Middlesex: Penguin Books. Li, Shuhuan 李叔還. 1977. Great Dictionary of Daoism 道教大字典. Taipei 臺北: Juliu Dushu Gongsi 巨流圖書股份有限公司. Liu, Ts’un-yan. 1968. “Lu Hsi-hsing and His Commentaries on the Ts’an T’ung Ch’i (Cantongqi),” Qinghua Xuebao 清華學報. vii. 1. ———. 1970. “Taoist Self-Cultivation in Ming thought.” In W. Theodore de Bary, ed., Self and Society in Ming Thought (291–330). New York: Columbia University Press. ———. 1978. Chou I ts’an-t’ung ch’i chu 周易參同契註. In Ėtienne Balazs and Yves Hervouet, eds., A Sung Bibliography. Hong Kong: Chinese University Press. Miaojingtu 妙經圖. 1924–1926. Daoist Canon 道藏, 196, Shanghai: Commercial Press. Michael, Thomas. 2015. In the Shadows of the Dao: Laozi, the Sage, and the Daodejing. Albany.: State University Press of New York. Needham, Joseph. 1956. Science and Civilisation in China. Vol. 2. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. ———. 1976. Science and Civilization in China. Vol. 5. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Pian, R. C. 1976. “Ts’ai Yüan-Ting.” In Herbert Franke, ed., Sung Biographies. Wiesbaden: Franz Steiner Verlag GMBH. Pregadio, Fabrizio. 2011. The Seal of the Unity of the Three: A Study and Translation of The Cantong Qi, the Source of the Taoist Way of the Golden Elixir. Mountain View, CA.: Golden Elixir Press. (A comprehensive study of this abstruse text.) Qian, Mu 錢穆. 1986. New Bibliographical and Biographical Studies on Master Zhu (Xi) 朱子新 學案. Vol. 5. Taipei 臺北: Sanmin publishers 三民書局. (This work is still a valuable comprehensive study of Zhu’s life and work.) Qiu, Zhaoao 仇兆鰲. 1977. An Old Edition of The Seal of the Unity of the Three in the Zhou Book of Changes 古本周易參同契, in vol. 65 of Zhonggou Zixue Mingzhu Jicheng 中國子學名著 集成, edited by Huang Jie. Taipei 臺北: Zhongguo zixue mingzhe jicheng bianyin jijinhui 中 國子學名著集成編印基金會. Roth, Harold D. 1999. Original Tao: Inward Training (Nei-yeh) and the Foundations of Taoist Mysticism. New York: Columbia University Press. Saso, Michael. 1978. “What is the Ho-t’u.” History of Religions 17.3 and 4: 399–416. ———. 1979. The Teachings of Daoist Master Chuang. New Haven.: Yale University Press. Schipper, Kristofer, and Franciscus Verellen. 2004. The Taoist Canon: A Historical Companion to the Daozang. 2. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Seidel, Anna. 1969. “The Image of the Perfect Ruler in Early Taoist Messianism: Lao-Tzu and Li Hung.” History of Religions 9: 216–47. Sellmann, James. 1981. “Dao Shih: Religion, Philosophy, and Self-actualization.” Master’s thesis, University of Hawaii at Manoa. Sivin, Nathan. 1978. “On the Word ‘Taoist’ as a Source of Perplexity. With Special Reference to the Relations of Science and Religion in Traditional China.” History of Religions 17.3 and 4: 303–330. Stein, Rolf A. 1979. “Religious Taoism and Popular Religion from the Second to Seventh Centuries.” In Holmes Welch and Anna Seidel, eds., Facets of Taoism: Essays in Chinese Religion (53–82). New Haven.: Yale University Press. Tomoeda, Ryūtarō. 1971. “The Characteristics of Chu Hsi’s Thought,” Acta Asiatica, 21: 52–72. (This essay offers many interesting insights about ZHU’s philosophy.) Tu, Wei-ming. 1979, November. “‘The Thought of Huang–Lao’: A Reflection on the Lao Tzu and Huang Ti Texts in the Silk Manuscripts of Ma-wang-tui.” Journal of Asian Studies 39.1: 95–110. Watson, Burton. 1964. Basic Writings of Hsun Tzu. New York: Columbia University Press.

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———. 1968. The Complete Works of Chuang Tzu. New York: Columbia University Press. Welch, Holmes. 1966. Taoism: The Parting of the Way. Boston.: Beacon Press. Welch, Holmes, and Anna Seidel. 1979. Facets of Taoism: Essays in Chinese Religion. New Haven.: Yale University Press. Wilhelm, Richard. 1967. The I-ching or Book of Changes. Princeton.: Princeton University Press. Wu, Lu-ch’iang, and Tenney L. Davis. 1932. “An Ancient Chinese Treatise on Alchemy Entitled Ts’an T’ung Ch’i (Cantongqi).” Isis 18, 2: 210–89. (An early translation of this abstruse text.) Wylie, Alexander. 1964. Notes on Chinese Literature. Reprint in 1964. New York: Paragon Books. Xiao, Tingzhi 蕭廷芝. 1924–1926. Compilation of Ten Books of Sublime Cultivation for Compounding the Golden Elixir 修真十書金丹大成集. In Daoist Canon 道藏, 123, Shanghai 上海: Commercial Press 商務印書館. Yates, Robin D.  S. 1997. Five Lost Classics: Tao, Huang–Lao, and Yin–Yang in Han China. New York: Ballantine Books. Yu, Ying-Shih. 1964–1965. “Life and Immortality in the Mind of Han China.” Harvard Journal of Asian Studies 25: 80–122 (Also see his book by the same title for a discussion of early views of the long-life cults.) Zhu, Xi 朱熹. 1924–1926. A Commentary on the Zhouyi Cantongqi 周易參同契註. In Daozang, 623, juan xia 卷下: 6a; and in the 1927–1937. Sibu Beiyao 四部備要 ed. Reprint of the Shou-­ shan edition. (Zhu Xi’s commentary on this text.) ———. 1980. Collection of Literary Works by Master Zhu 朱文公文集. Taipei 臺北: Commercial Press 商務印書館. Zhu, Xi 朱熹, and Lu Zuqian 呂祖謙, ed. 1977. Reflections on Things at Hand 近思錄. In Zhongguo Zixue Mingzhu Jicheng 中國子學名著集成, vol. 35, juan 卷 13. Zhuangzi. 1956. A Concordance to Chuang tzu. Harvard-Yenching Index Series No. 20. Cambridge: Harvard University Press. Zou, Xin (pronounced Xi, a.k.a. Zhu, Xi 朱熹). 1924–1926. A Commentary on The Yellow Emperor’s Classic of the Secret Talisman 黃帝陰符經註解. In Daozang 道藏, 58. Shanghai 上海: Commercial Press 商務印書館. (Zhu Xi’s alleged commentary on this text.) James D. Sellmann is the Dean of the College of Liberal Arts and Social Science at the University of Guam. He is a professor of philosophy and micronesian studies at the Division of Humanities. He specializes in Chinese, comparative, and Micronesian philosophies and religions.  

Chapter 30

Zhu Xi and Christianity Lauren F. Pfister

1 Approaching Zhu Xi Through Modern and Contemporary Christian Scholars Historically speaking, it is a fact that Zhu Xi never encountered during his life any person that he would have been able to identify as a Christian intellectual or scholar. Nevertheless, because his interpretive influences in Ruist traditions were so immense after his death, and especially during the Qing dynasty (as other chapters in this volume document so clearly), nineteenth century foreign and indigenous missionary-­ scholars as well as twentieth century Chinese and foreign Christian scholars from a relatively wide range of backgrounds had to come to grips with the nature of his immense corpus and the claims that were associated with his mature positions. That process did not occur spontaneously, but involved several centuries of inchoate engagement with Zhu Xi’s works that did not display self-conscious awareness of his influences, lasting till the end of the eighteenth century and the beginning of the nineteenth century. In this article, then, the major discussions will focus on those who self-consciously engaged Zhu Xi’s philosophical system and its claims, usually involving some specific portion of his works. Due to the nature of this general topic and the limits of my own linguistic abilities, I have chosen to highlight studies that explicitly apply Zhu Xi’s teachings to particular Christian issues or explore Zhu Xi’s claims from specific Christian perspectives. In addition, I have chosen to include studies of those who present Zhu Xi’s claims by means of the translation and interpretation of Ruist canonical literature, even though they may not offer a systematic study of Zhu Xi’s works in-and-­ of-themselves. Thirdly, I have divided the study of sources dealt with in two L. F. Pfister (*) Department of Religion and Philosophy, Hong Kong Baptist University, Hong Kong, People’s Republic of China e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2020 K.-c. Ng, Y. Huang (eds.), Dao Companion to ZHU Xi’s Philosophy, Dao Companions to Chinese Philosophy 13, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-29175-4_30

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historical categories, the first being “pre-WWII” and the second being “post-WWII,” based primarily on the shift from studies produced by a large number of foreign missionary-scholars, many of those works being translations of key texts, to the second period where those who engage Zhu Xi’s corpus are primarily Chinese Christian scholars and their concerns are not with translation of texts, but with the interpretation of Zhu’s system and its implications. This occurred in part due to the maturation of the Chinese Christian communities in Greater China during the twentieth century, and the development of a number of indigenous accounts and responses to Zhu Xi that did not exist in any systematic manner previous to WWII. Finally, I have sought to identify works in a relatively wider range of linguistic media that address these themes, primarily working with texts published in Chinese and European languages.

2 Zhu Xi’s Pre-WWII Foreign Christian Interpreters Missionaries from three main traditions within Christianity lived in China at different periods and engaged teachings of Zhu Xi: they were foreign representatives of Roman Catholic, Russian Orthodox, and Protestant traditions. All of these figures studied various aspects of the Chinese cultures they encountered, and published something about their learning that included reference to the works and teachings of Zhu Xi. Many other missionaries did not do such extensive study and publishing, and so in order to highlight the special character of these unusual missionaries, the term “missionary-scholar” was created (Pfister 2010; Fei 2016b: 18–38). Notably, the first among this group who dealt with teachings of Zhu Xi did not do so self-­ consciously, but near the end of the eighteenth century missionary-scholars produced translations and secondary works that did self-consciously present and evaluate aspects of Zhu Xi’s teachings.

2.1 The Italian Jesuit Missionary-Scholar, Matteo Ricci Although Matteo Ricci 利瑪竇 (1552–1610) as one of the first Italian Jesuit missionary-­scholars to live in China did put Chinese and “Western” scholars in dialogue within his major Chinese work, Tianzhu Shiyi 天主實義 (The True Meaning of the Lord of Heaven), he did not realize that a number of the interpretive positions adopted by his imagined Chinese scholar relied on or even glossed Zhu Xi’s claims. Recent scholarship has identified places where those claims can be linked to Zhu Xi’s teachings, but this was apparently not self-conscious on Ricci’s part (Ricci 2014).

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2.2 The Seventeenth Century Jesuit Translation Project Recent research has also clarified that the seventeenth century Jesuit translation project, Confucius Sinarum Philosophus, that produced three of the Four Books in Latin (not attempting the Mengzi / Mencius 孟子) was also highly indebted to Zhu Xi’s commentaries to that seminal work. Still, as in the case of Ricci’s previous volume, Philip Couplet and his colleagues were not self-consciously employing Zhu Xi’s commentaries. They only integrated Zhu’s explanations into their Latin translation by means of the commentary that they did employ, Zhang Juzheng’s 張 居正 (1525–1582) Sishu Zhijie 四書直解 (Straightforward Explanations of the Four Books), produced initially in the early 1570s. Because Zhang himself relied on Zhu Xi’s earlier commentaries for many of his own interpretations, but not consistently or without correction of the Song Ruist’s influential philosophical assertions, that impact on the Jesuits’ translations and interpretations was only selectively present in a complicated patchwork of Zhu Xi’s and other Ruists’ interpretations, sometimes also including Zhang’s own innovative elaborations (Meynard 2011, 2015).

2.3 The French Jesuit Scholar, François Noël The first missionary-scholar to employ Zhu Xi’s commentaries to the Four Books self-consciously was the French Jesuit, François Noël 衛方濟 (1651–1729), publishing Latin and later French renderings of the Four Books and two other works in Prague in 1711. This effort should be considered as part of the “old Jesuit mission” that was initiated by Ruggieri and Ricci in 1580, and lasted until the dismantling of the Jesuit order by the pope in the 1770s. While Noël set this precedent for Jesuit scholarship in his own day, he employed Zhu Xi’s commentaries as a major, but not the only, source for his Latin renderings (Wong 2013, 2015). Later Protestant missionary-­scholars who also employed Zhu Xi’s commentaries in a similar fashion—as a recognized authority, but not their only source for their translations— include Legge, Faber, Wilhelm, and Guerra. With regard to translation precedents in rendering texts into Latin that reflect a specific Roman Catholic worldview, one precedent that is both problematic and influential among later Jesuit renderings completed by Zottoli (Latin), Couvreur (Latin and French), and Guerra (Portuguese) in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, came with the rendering of the first two Chinese ideographs of the Zhongyong 中庸 (the Doctrine of the Mean). Noël took tian ming 天命 there as a single noun, rather than a noun-verb or adjective-­noun phrase, and gave it the translation of the Latin equivalent of “natural law” (Wong 2015). While there are good reasons to challenge this rendering from grammatical and conceptual explanations by many Chinese commentators, here we face an obvious eisegesis (“reading into the text”) of a prevailing worldview concept from Thomist theology that should be highlighted as a clever, but misguided and ultimately unjustified, translation of that passage.

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2.4 The Russian Orthodox Abbot and Missionary-Scholar, Iakinf Unknown to most philosophers in Chinese, European, and North American contexts is that the first full European translation of Zhu Xi’s Sishu Jizhu 四書集注 (Collected Notes on the Four Books)—including not only the canonical texts of the Four Books, but also renderings and/or glosses of Zhu Xi’s commentaries—was produced initially in the period from 1814 to 1815 in old Russian by the Russian Orthodox abbot, Iakinf 雅金夫 (Nikita Y. Bichurin 比丘林, 1777–1853). A second version of the whole work was completed in 1820–1821, just before Iakinf and his ecclesiastical team returned to St. Petersburg after the chaos caused by the Napoleonic Wars. That later complete manuscript consists of two large handwritten volumes held in the Museum of Oriental Manuscripts in St. Petersburg, while a more elegantly prepared version of only two of the four texts—the Daxue 大學 (the Great Learning) and Zhongyong with Zhu Xi’s commentaries—was prepared for publication in 1835. Very unfortunately for both Russian and other European sinologists, even those later tomes were never published. They are currently kept in the Russian National Library in St. Petersburg (Fei 2016a). Notably, Iakinf was selfconscious of the radical reordering of the text of the Daxue and the addition of the fifth chapter by Zhu Xi’s own hand. Surprisingly, he chose not to add that one chapter created by Zhu Xi to the canonical text, adding a translator’s note that the canonical text at this point was missing materials, and the creative alternative presented by Zhu Xi was not acceptable. This is a remarkably bold step taken by the Russian missionary-­scholar, something not seen elsewhere among renderings of that passage in other missionary-scholars’ translations. Notably, Iakinf still apparently presented all the rest of the “new text” traditions for both the Daxue and the Zhongyong in his Russian rendering. In this light, then, we may count his critical rejection of that infamous fifth chapter in the commentarial section of the Daxue as the first explicit critical response to the reordering and restructuring of Zhu Xi’s Daxue in any European language.

2.5 Watershed in Qing Dynasty Zhu Xi Studies by Foreign Christian Scholars Before the middle of the nineteenth century, there had been only unselfconscious use of Zhu Xi’s commentaries, or a few relatively independent works that did apply his commentaries to their translations and interpretations of seminal Ruist scriptures, but they did not receive much public attention. By the 1850s, new efforts were taken in publicly accessible journals and independent works produced by both Protestants and Roman Catholic missionary-scholars that greatly advanced a more general awareness of the monumental stature and profound influences of Zhu Xi’s teachings. Chan Wing-tsit noted that already in 1849 the first American

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Congregationalist missionary to China, Elijah Bridgman (1801–1861), produced an English version of a small portion of some of Zhu Xi’s teachings dealing with the nature of “the universe, heaven and earth, sun and moon, and man and animal” (Chan 1976: 555–56). Nearly two decades later the Scottish leader of the notable Guangxue Hui 廣學 會 (the Society for the Dissemination of Christian Knowledge), Alexander Wylie 偉 烈亞力 (1815–1887), provided the bibliographic grounding for a far more significant understanding of and appreciation for the importance of Zhu Xi’s corpus. In his well-informed annotated bibliography given the rather mundane title of Notes on Chinese Literature, Wylie cited Zhu Xi (by means of a French inspired transcription, “Choo He”), on 20 different pages within the bibliography, more than any other person or author within that work. He went on to refer to 13 of Zhu Xi’s publications by their titles (Wylie 1867: 84, 85, 87, 216, 219, 226, 231), but notably did not refer to Zhu Xi’s commentary to the Four Books where that important Song dynasty creation was addressed (Wylie 1867: 7–8). Wylie only dealt there with each of the four texts independently, but not as a whole four-tomes-in-one-volume text. Characterizing the impact of Zhu Xi’s intellectual work as having “a wonderful influence over the native mind” (Wylie 1867: xix), Wylie was fully aware of the cultural and intellectual impact of many of Zhu Xi’s publications. The titles of Zhu’s publications that he did identify and describe included not only Zhu Xi’s imperially authorized complete works, but also several works on rites for children and the family, his categorized sayings, the compendium of Song Ruist scholarship known as Jinsi lu 近思錄 (Reflections on Things at Hand), two commentaries on The Book of Changes, two works on Daoist texts, three texts on his studies of poetry in the ancient state of Chu (Chuci 楚辭), and his seminal teachings regarding the hermeneutics of reading. Here was the foundation on which a more wide-ranging Christian scholarly approach to Zhu Xi’s corpus could be based. From the Roman Catholic side, it was once again members of the Jesuit order who made their scholarly presence particularly noticeable, but this time in the “new Jesuit mission” that had been reignited in the 1850s after nearly 80 years of censorship by papal authorities. The main contributors came from the Xujiahui 徐家匯 Mission in the Shanghai area and the Southeast Zhili 直隸東南 Mission located in the district of Xian 獻 (near the city of Hejianfu 河間府) in what is now Hebei 河 北 province: from the former, the Italian Angelo Zottoli and the Frenchman Stanislas Le Gall; from the latter, Séraphin Couvreur and Léon Wieger. As will be seen, most of these efforts reflected generally the traditional orientation of the early Jesuit mission, but they clearly also advanced textual access to Zhu Xi’s corpus through a number of translations and a far more self-conscious awareness of the importance and complexities involved in Zhu Xi’s life and works. Returning to the contributions of Protestant missionary-scholars, the first more substantial contributions in addressing Zhu Xi’s claims came from those who drew upon the legacy of employing, translating, and evaluating Zhu Xi’s commentaries to Ruist canonical literature. These involved, first of all, the original eight-tomes-in-­ five-volumes produced by James Legge 理雅各 (1815–1897) as The Chinese Classics (first edition, 1861–1872; second partially revised edition, 1893–1895). In

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the “prolegomena” there are found interpretive textual and conceptual essays, and in the main body of the work a Chinese standard text on the top of most pages, followed in the middle of the page by an English translation, and subsequently including “copious” footnotes. The second collection of works in this style was the extensive Chinese–Latin corpus in five volumes, entitled Cursus litteraturæ sinicæ: neo-missionariis accommodatus (Course in the Literature of China: For the Use of New Missionaries, 1879–1882), produced by the Italian Jesuit, Angelo Zottoli 晁德 蒞 (1826–1902) for ethnically Chinese and foreign novitiates in the Shanghai Xujiahui mission. Legge’s series was exceptionally influential as a prototype and exemplary model for cross-cultural translation and missionary-scholar engagement with Ruist traditions, and so has been republished in numerous versions even until the second decade of the twenty-first century. Zottoli’s series was far less influential publicly. That was due particularly because it was written in a terse and scholarly Latin, being prepared as a course for new missionaries to learn wide ranges of classical, medieval, and modern Chinese literary works. Knowing Zhu Xi’s status especially with regard to his commentaries to the Ruist canonical texts, Zottoli was explicit in following nineteenth century trends in Chinese Ruist scholarship that rejected the Song master’s interpretations due to their philosophical orientation and some of his anachronous hermeneutic choices (Zottoli 1879–1982, vol. 2: vi).

2.6 The Scottish Congregationalist Missionary-Scholar, James Legge Though Legge never provided a translation of any full text published by Zhu Xi, he was informed about the Song Ruist’s status as an imperially authorized commentator to the Four Books, and studied those and other commentaries in a serious and critical manner. The earliest published indication that Legge was self-consciously reading and interpreting Zhu Xi’s works comes from his lengthy study published in 1852, Notions of the Chinese concerning God and Spirits. There in the midst of the discursive arguments that were involved in the “term controversy,” seeking to find a set of theological terms in Chinese to be applied in biblical translations, Legge refers directly to Zhu’s metaphysics of the taiji 太極 found in Explanations of the Diagram of the Supreme Ultimate (Taijitu shuo 太極圖說) and his commentaries to both the Zhouli 周禮 (The Rites of Zhou) and the Zhongyong (Legge 1852: 15–19). Notably, while referring to Zhu Xi by means of an ancient Greek term for the leader of a school—“the coryphaeus of the Sung family”—Legge argued against an earlier Roman Catholic interpretation of Zhu Xi’s worldview as “Atheo-politique,” claiming that the Chinese scholar’s “good sense” led him at times to speak “like a true theist” (Legge 1852: 17, 19). Here Legge’s interpretive position reflects his Protestant rationalism drawn from Scottish Realism, taking already a more open religious account of Zhu Xi’s metaphysics. This is a general interpretive position

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that has remained part of later controversies about his worldview even in the twentyfirst century. While preparing his translations and interpretations of all the Ruist scriptures—a task started in the 1840s and ending in the 1890s—Legge dealt with many texts written and interpretive positions promoted by Zhu Xi. The two main set of Legge’s translations, now serving as canon-in-translation in their own right (Pfister 2011; Fei 2016a, b: 281), involved The Chinese Classics (1861–1872, first edition; 1893–1895 partially revised edition) and The Sacred Books of China (1879–1891) in the larger series called The Sacred Books of the East edited by Max Mueller. Even during the last decade of his life, Legge knew of those who claimed his translations “were modelled on the views of the great critic and philosopher of the Sung dynasty” or “the Old Man of the Cloudy Valley” (Legge 1893: x–xi), Legge’s way of extolling Zhu Xi. Since then others have repeated the claim (including Arthur Waley [1889–1966], see Fei 2016b: 294), but Legge himself knew that this was far too simplistic. A thorough reading and assessment of his translation works confirms Legge’s response to these claims. For example, already in the 1861 versions of the first and second volumes of The Chinese Classics, where Legge presented his first published versions of the Four Books, evidence of his complex engagement with Zhu Xi’s commentaries is manifest. The primary text referred to by Legge in his commentarial notes from Zhu Xi’s corpus was the Sishu Jizhu 四書集注 (Collected Notes on the Four Books), Zhu’s commentaries to the seminal canonical work that he himself is credited with creating and justifying. With regard to the commentators cited within the whole first volume—involving the Analects (Lunyu 論語), the Daxue, and the Zhongyong in that order—Legge cited over a hundred commentators by name or indirectly through naming their works. Among those commentators, only 21 were cited four or more times throughout that volume (Pfister 2004, vol. 2: 110). Zhu Xi’s commentarial notes along with those of the Han dynasty Ruist commentator, Zheng Xuan 鄭玄 (127–200), were the most often cited among all of those commentaries most often referred to in the first volume of The Chinese Classics (Fei 2016a, b: 257 and 277). It was also one of the two most cited interpreters within Legge’s notes to the Mencius, sharing that status with the Han scholar, Zhao Qi 趙歧 (c. 108–201) (Fei 2016a, b: 294). Having completed his first translation and commentaries to The Book of Poetry in 1871, Legge found Zhu Xi’s rationalistic approach to those ancient texts and his semi-ascetic moral position adopted in his interpretations to parallel much of what he himself held as a Victorian Scottish gentleman and trained Scottish Realist missionary-scholar (Pfister 2004, vol. 2: 211; FEI 2016a, b: 309). So, when he reflected on the qualities of Zhu’s commentarial interpretations in 1893, Legge mentioned the “beauty and strength” of his “style,” the “comprehension and depth of his thought,” and even “the correctness of his analysis” (Legge 1893: x–xi). Nevertheless, this did not mean that he regularly or even generally agreed with Zhu Xi’s specific annotations and generalized assessments within the canonical works where he studied Zhu’s interpretations. The most notable departures from Zhu Xi’s precedents came in relationship to Legge’s presentation and evaluation of certain aspects of the Four Books. Neither

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Zhu’s order of publication in the Sishu Jizhu (Daxue, Zhongyong, the Analects, the Mencius) or his preferred order for their study (Daxue, the Analects, the Mencius, Zhongyong) were followed by Legge in his first volume of The Chinese Classics. Having become intensely concerned with the status of “Confucius” (Master Kong 孔子), Legge placed the Analects first, followed by the Daxue, Zhongyong, and in the subsequent volume, the Mencius. Other missionary-scholars who later presented their own versions of the Four Books in various languages did not repeat Legge’s lack of respect for the canonical order (Pfister 2004, vol. 2: 103; Fei 2016b: 253–54, 264–65). Notably, however, Legge still adopted the “new text” versions of the Daxue and Zhongyong for that first volume in his Chinese Classics, but he particularly assessed the former as an unjustified meddling with the original text (the “old text”) found in the Liji 禮記 (The Record of Rites) (Pfister 2004, vol. 2: 111 and 324; Fei 2016b: 257–58). Consistent with this concern, Legge later in 1885, when he published his rendering of the Liji, purposefully produced English versions of the “old text” versions of both works as Chapters 28 and 39 (Legge 1885: 300–351, 411–24). This precedent of presenting two versions—both the “old” and “new text” versions—of these canonical works was continued by all those other missionary-­ scholars who published both the Daxue and Zhongyong in the Four Books and the Liji in various other languages (see Couvreur’s French and Latin versions, as well as Guerra’s Portuguese versions). These missionary-scholar responses via translation to the textual controversy caused by Zhu Xi’s ascendency was an alternative to the standard way Qing dynasty authorized texts of the Liji were presented, because they would normally blank out those chapters, pointing readers to Zhu Xi’s imperially authorized “new text” version without any further explanation. Attracted to the critical textual comments on Ruist canonical works prepared by Mao Qiling 毛奇齡 (1623–1716), Jiang Yong 江永 (1681–1762), and Wang Yinzhi 王引之 (1766–1834) among others—all these belonging to the “Simple Learning” School (Puxue 樸學)—Legge found substantial linguistic and textual reasons at times for supporting interpretations of texts other than Zhu Xi’s (Fei 2016b: 251–52, 277). This is not to deny that Legge sometimes straightforwardly adopted the interpretations of Zhu Xi in his renderings of the Analects, for example, but there were only thirteen such cases in the whole of that work (Pfister 1991: 39–40; 2004, vol. 2: 111).

2.7 The British Anglican Pastor-Scholar, Thomas McClatchie The first monograph in English devoted to the study of a specific text in Zhu Xi’s corpus was produced by the Anglican leader in the British colony of Hong Kong, the canon of St. John’s Cathedral there, the Rev. Thomas McClatchie. Being one of the first two Anglican missionaries sent to the Qing dyansty in 1844, McClatchie first published a smaller study in 1853 on The Book of Changes, and then focused his studies on Zhu Xi. For a priest who had a leading role in the Anglican mission within the colony of Hong Kong to choose to study works by the imperially

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a­ uthorized interpreter of the key Ruist canonical literature manifested his sense of both his own authority within the British national church as well as that of Zhu Xi. In this regard he stood hermeneutically in a position very similar to Iakinf, but knew nothing of that unpublished precedent in Russian; there is no indication that he was aware of any other relevant works outside of those in Anglophone Protestant journals. Notably, McClatchie did not publish his study on the “cosmogeny” within one chapter of Zhu Xi’s complete works until 30 years after he had arrived in China (McClatchie 1874), suggesting that he had pursued adequate research and read widely in Zhu Xi’s corpus before publishing this annotated English translation. Without question, he knew of Legge’s scholarly precedents, and so followed the Scottish Congregationalist’s boldness by offering a Chinese–English bilingual text (McClatchie 1874: 2–124), the standard Chinese on the left side of each opening, and his English rendering on the right side. Preceding his translation with a brief biography of Zhu Xi (McClatchie 1874: iii–vii) and a general introduction to Ruist cosmological diagrams drawn from the Yijing 易經 (the Book of Changes) and Song history (McClatchie 1874: viii–xviii). He also added extensive explanatory notes after the translation (McClatchie 1874: 125–61). These were all formal elements of what appeared to be a substantial study. As in the case of Iakinf, this precedent in Anglophone sinological history remained the only study by a Protestant missionary in China not associated with a university, but it was inherently flawed. Problems appeared in its English translations of key terms and its simplistic generalizations about “pagan philosophers.” At points McClatchie’s text seemed logically incoherent, while also promoting an interpretive perspective that challenged Zhu Xi’s metaphysics. Generally speaking, McClatchie sustained a religiously antagonistic attitude throughout most of the text. From the angle of comparative philosophical analysis, it is worth considering these problems in detail in order to clarify as much as one can why McClatchie’s work could be so far off the mark. One suggestion about how McClatchie could skew the rendering and interpretation of this section of Zhu Xi’s work is that he held fast to a special intuition: he believed that Zhu Xi, and Confucianism at large, supported a vision of the cosmos that was “the same” as the ancient Mediterranean Stoics (McClatchie 1874: 126, 134, 137, 146). Since the Stoic references to the highest divine being included “Fate, Reason, Nature, etc.” (McClatchie 1874: 146), McClatchie apparently assumed that using the term “Fate” to refer to li 理 was justified. Yet that was not his only problematic translation. In addition, he chose to render qi 氣 as “air,” yang 陽 as “light,” yin 陰 as “darkness,” dao 道 as “reason,” shen 神 as “God.” He used these English renderings stringently and without any alternatives in most cases, so that the translation jars the mind of any reader. “In the whole Universe there is no such thing as Air without Fate, or Fate without Air.. .. Fate is Incorporeal, while the Air is coarse and has dregs” (McClatchie 1874: 3). So literalistic was his method of rendering, that the normal reference of guishen 鬼神 for “spirits” in general was made into a special noun, “Demon-God” (McClatchie 1874: 138). It would seem that McClatchie should have read more of Zhu Xi in order to refine and revise his renderings. Nevertheless, as seen in the several dozen pages of

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endnotes, there are far more sources cited from ancient Mediterranean and modern European sources than references to Zhu Xi’s other works or even other Chinese scholarly texts. In all these ways, McClatchie’s approach to cross-cultural and inter-religious studies of this one chapter in Zhu Xi’s extensive corpus proved to be insensitive, uninformed, and crude. Only when other missionary-scholars avoided these problems could they produce far more justified renderings, so that their interpretations would be seriously considered.

2.8 The German Protestant Sinologist, Georg von der Gabelentz Having benefited from growing up in the home of a Lutheran pastor-scholar who was an expert in Manchurian, Hans Georg Conon von der Gabelentz (1840–1893) came to sinological studies only after completing legal studies and serving as a lawyer (Gabelentz 1876: 89–90). For his doctoral dissertation he rendered the Taijitu Shuo 太極圖說 (presented only as the Taijitu 太極圖 in the published version) into both Manchurian and German. These were located underneath the standard Chinese text on the same page. He continued this Chinese–Manchurian–German trilingual format also for Zhu Xi’s introduction, in the image of the diagram, and within the main body of the text. In the prolegomena (Vorbemerkungen), Gabelentz characterized Zhu Xi’s worldview as strictly a “monism” (Gabelentz 1876: 3–7). For Gabelentz, the taiji is the “original principle” (Urprinzip) of the universe, but as a result the wuji 無極 becomes “without principle” (Ohne Prinzip), something that is metaphysically hard to comprehend (Gabelentz 1876: 31). Most other key terms were rendered with a notable hermeneutic sensitivity. In his tome Gabelentz also included an appendix that provided discussions by Zhu Xi regarding the taiji from among the recordings on this topic within his Categorized Sayings (Gabelentz 1876: 82–88). In handling key terms, Yin 陰 (“Yen”) and Yang 陽 appeared only in Romanized transcription throughout the whole tome, while dao was always “the Norm.” The technical terms xingershang 形而上 and xingerxia 形而下 were rendered in a more literal manner as being “over” or “under” the “phenomena” (die Erscheinungen), and so not merely “incorporeal” or “corporeal” (Gabelentz 1876: 39). Otherwise, qi 氣 was rendered by the poetic German term, der Odem (the life-­ breath), de 德 by die Tugend (virtue), ming 命 as das Schicksal (fate or destiny), guishen 鬼神 as Dämonen und Geistern (demons and ghosts), and li 理 by either Vernuft (reason, rationality) or Vernuft-prinzip (the principle of rationality) (Gabelentz 1876: 36, 45, 54, 60, 65, 66). Though he argued that the concept of tian 天 was “for Chinese persons the deity [die Gottheit],” this did not affect his interpretive understanding that Zhu Xi was promoting some form of monism (Gabelentz 1876: 33). Taking up a rendering for shengren 聖人 that was already upheld in other German renderings, Gabelentz continued to translate this key term as der heilege

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Mensch / die heilege Menschen, that is, “the holy human” / “the holy humans” (Gabelentz 1876: 63–65), making the term ring soundly with a religious character that does not appear in the original Chinese, nor in the English and European equivalents for “sage.” All this being so, Gabelentz’s work was a major advance over McClatchie’s distorted translation and crude interpretations.

2.9 The German Lutheran Missionary-Scholar, Ernst Faber Having published more than ten works each in Chinese, German and English on various topics relevant to Protestant engagements in the Qing dynasty, Ernst Faber 花之安 (1839–1899) was a well-recognized scholarly missionary whose systematic efforts at exploring traditional Chinese culture earned him accolades from many sides among foreign missionaries, Chinese Christians, and European sinologists. Intending to make an advance on the already well-recognized contributions of Legge’s English translations, Faber produced a series of “systematical digests” to add to the understanding of various ancient Chinese works and their cultural influences. In one devoted to scriptures associated with the teachings of Master Kong, Faber added a synopsis of “the philosophical schools” in Ruist traditions, and so devoted three pages to the influence, complexity, and criticism of “Chu Fu-tzü” (Zhufuzi 朱夫子, Master Zhu) within Song, Ming and Qing dynasty Ruist traditions (Faber 1875: 32–34). He described the Principle-centered Learning School (lixue 理學) as “dualistic-­naturalistic” and “Buddhist-Confucian,” even though in the end Zhu Xi’s teachings and his followers’ works were not at all “amicably inclined to Buddhism.” He was also very aware that Lu Jiuyuan 陸九淵 (s. Xiangshan 象山, 1134–1192) presented a substantial challenge to the “critical philosophical erudition of Chu-hsi,” arguing that the “commencement and aim” of Ruist learning should be the “rectification of heart and life.” In addition, he referred to a study of the critical differences between the lixue and xinxue 心學 (Heart-mindcentered Learning) by the Ming Ruist scholar, Chen Jian 陳健 (1497–1567) (wrongly referred to as a Qing scholar named Chen Qinglan 陳慶藍), as well as the textual challenges elaborated by Mao Qiling 毛奇齡 (styled Xihe 西河 [1623–1713]) and those found in the massive collectanea entitled Huang Qing Jingjie 皇清經解 (Canonical Interpretations by the August Qing), under the editorship of Ruan Yuan 阮元 (1764–1849). Without question, this kind of historical coverage and perceptive critical awareness was largely unprecedented in any previous writing by Christian missionary-scholars, advancing beyond the bibliographic notes of Wylie. This informed critical sensitivity also was manifest in Faber’s subsequent works. So, for example, having recognized a strong tendency in Legge’s translation and interpretation of the Mencius (the Mengzi) to favor Zhu Xi’s interpretations, overstated by claiming that “Dr. Legge follows only the explanation of Choo-fu-­tsze” (Faber 1882: x; see also Pfister 2013), Faber revised many of the Scotsman’s renderings from Qing scholarly criticisms of Zhu Xi’s interpretations of the Mengzi. Nevertheless, near the end of his life when Faber summarized his “Missionary View

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of Confucianism,” he found several “points of similarity” between the teachings of “Chu-fu-tsze” and his preferred Lutheran expression of Christianity, mentioning no point of “antagonism” or “deficiency” in which he identified Zhu Xi as the source. Instead, he honored the lixue account of “divine providence” that was only different “in their explanation of it, not in the fact.” Also, their attitude when political and social conditions were unfavorable that drove them to emphasize “the moral self-­ culture and the practice of humanity” was considered noble and admirable (Faber 1897: 57, 59). Here we have a carefully articulated alliance between aspects of a Protestant Christian worldview and its attendant lifestyle with Zhu Xi’s, an alliance that was rarely made so explicit within nineteenth century missionary-­ scholars’ works.

2.10 The Belgian Jesuit Sinologist, Charles de Harlez Though Chan Wing-tsit noted that the “French missionary” Charles de Harlez had published several important translations of Zhu Xi’s works within the last two decades of the nineteenth century (Chan 1976: 556–57), several qualifications of Chan’s descriptions and claims need to be made. Charles-Joseph de Harlez de Deulin (1832–1899) was a Jesuit and a scholar, but not a missionary. Though he wrote in French, he was Belgian in nationality, and was a polyglot by gift and training. After working in old Persian and Sanskrit texts, he began to work with Chinese texts as late as the 1880s, and published his first extensive work related to Zhu Xi in 1888 in a notable European journal. All this being stated, because he probably did not have any concrete experience in China—as was the case for many sinologues in the French Academy earlier in the century—his handling of Chinese texts was not always precise. Still, the effort he put into that first publication was notable: it involved a rendering in contemporary French of the preface and four chapters from the “selected essentials” (jie yao 節要) of Zhu Xi’s teachings prepared by the late Ming Ruist, Gao Panglong 高攀龍 (1562–1626). Out of the fourteen chapters of the original work de Harlez reproduced the majority of the content in chapters 1, 6, 9 and 13, dealing respectively with themes related to the nature of the dao, the way of living well at home (jiadao 家道), methods of governance, and distinguishing strange sects (yiduan 異端, particularly Buddhist teachings). The text appears only in the French rendering, without the standard text in Chinese, and including only a few Chinese characters. If reference to a particular ideograph was needed, including the names of Chinese persons mentioned, these were presented only in a contemporary French transcription. Another matter that makes the French text difficult to follow (when comparing it to the original Chinese text) is that whenever de Harlez skipped passages, he did not indicate it by means of an ellipsis or any other means. Still, the fact is that most of each of the four chapters is given a French rendering. The lack of a standard Chinese text or even direct reference to most Chinese names and terms may not always indicate that someone has something to hide, but in de Harlez’s case there were in fact significant problems within his French

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t­ ranslation. Where there are direct repetitions in the Chinese text, to emphasize particular sequences of thought (as found in the preface), de Harlez purposefully employed other wording in French, apparently because mere repetition, though being literal and direct in the rendering, would not necessarily be considered stylish in French (de Harley 1888: 220–21). More significantly, though he recognized the names of persons, he did not appear to recognize some passages that came from canonical sources, so that he glossed over or misread passages that came from the Mengzi in the preface and the Daxue in the title of the third chapter. Sometimes those glosses or quotations from canonical texts were identified in the main body of his translation, but it is disconcerting to find that the famous phrase at the beginning of the Taijitu Shuo is not identified in a footnote, and the phrase wuji er taiji 無極而 太極 is presented as meaning that the “original principle” is “without origin” (de Harley 1888: 226). In general, his rendering was more liberal than literal, to the point that misdirections in his translations exist for a number of key terms. At other points of the text de Harlez missed subtleties in the text, such as realizing that negligence in the home would mean that some matters of importance would not be realized (a matter explicitly stated in the Chinese standard text); instead, he claimed absolutely that “the decree of heaven could not be executed” instead of claiming that some facets of the decree of heaven would not be realized (de Harley 1888: 246). In another case he simply misunderstood the criticism of Buddhist teachings, where it was claimed that their understanding of reincarnation had nothing to do with the principle of the creative generation of all things; instead, he rendered the passage as saying that the Buddhist doctrine of reincarnation “does not certainly follow reason” (where the term li 理 is rendered as “reason”) (de Harley 1888: 260). Such imprecision occurs in a number of places, but if one is not comparing it to the Chinese original, de Harlez’s fluent French glosses over those details would not make it easy to discern the misdirections or misunderstandings hidden beneath the flowing prose. Notably, it also shows that some renderings by nineteenth century academics who had never been to China fell below expected standards of accuracy that were more generally understood and sometimes attained by missionary-scholars who lived out their lives in Chinese environments. From a hermeneutic point of view sensitive to a Roman Catholic translator’s orientation, it is significant to point out that de Harlez rendered dao as “doctrine” and shengren as “saint/saints.” Consequently, his French translation rings with strong Roman Catholic echoes (as in de Harley 1888: 221, 270). While his rendering of qi 氣 is more perceptively given as “the vital principle” or “the vital element,” and the complementary elements yin and yang are generally left transcribed and not translated (as in de Harley 1888: 222, 224, 240–41), there are infelicities in the rendering that made his many translation efforts in this article less than satisfying for academic purposes. Whether these problems remained in his later works including the Xiaoxue 小學 (Elementary Learning), Jiali 家禮 (Home Rituals), and The Western Inscription (Ximing 西銘) (de Harley 1889a, b, 1890) should be considered as well.

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2.11 The French Jesuit Missionary-Scholar, Stanislas Le Gall The work that set a new standard for interpretations of Zhu Xi in the nineteenth century was produced by a French Jesuit residing in the Xujiahui Mission in Shanghai: Stanislas Le Gall (1858–1916). Unknown to Chan Wing-tsit, who was normally quite comprehensive, Le Gall produced a volume including a carefully documented biographical sketch of Zhu Xi along with a thorough account of his posthumous honors and influences (Le Gall 1894: 1–24), followed by relatively brief but articulate conceptual account of all major terms in Zhu Xi’s metaphysics and ethics (Le Gall 1894: 25–80). In the final section of his work Le Gall presented an informed French translation of most of the same text addressed by McClatchie 20 years earlier (Le Gall 1894: 81–125). In the earlier sections he summarized the positions of key Chinese opponents of Zhu Xi’s system, including Wang Yangming 王陽明 (1472–1529) and Mao Qiling (Le Gall 1894: 15–17), and noted the failure of McClatchie’s previous work as well as the “inexact and incomplete” presentation of de Harlez in his 1890 account of Zhu Xi’s “modern school” (Le Gall 1894: 21–22, 45–46). Citing Legge often and Zottoli occasionally with critical appreciation, but not afraid to oppose them when necessary (Le Gall 1894: 40–43, 76–77), Le Gall summarized his basic account of Zhu Xi’s influences by calling the Song Ruist “the preserver of the pure orthodoxy,” the “founder” and “principle expositor and patron” of the prevailing “cosmogenic and psychological system” in traditional Chinese intellectual circles (Le Gall 1894: 24). This tour de force was not without its problems, but it was the most articulate summary of previous studies in European and Chinese languages that had been produced by any Christian scholar throughout the whole of the nineteenth century, whether they were living in the Qing dynasty or overseas. Unlike previous Jesuit writers and James Legge, Le Gall argued that the ancient Ruist scriptures could not have an explicit and fully developed concept of God or a Supreme Deity, but goes on to indicate that in Zhu Xi’s case tian 天 had several meanings including one of “sovereignty” (Le Gall 1894: 39–40), making the concept shangdi 上帝 within his corpus as only “the active virtue of the material heaven” (Le Gall 1894: 41). Nevertheless, he agrees with both Legge and Zottoli that a superstitious belief in “souls and spirits” (guishen 鬼神) had not been stifled by modern Ruists’ teachings, and that these were detrimental to their other cultured goals (Le Gall 1894: 76–77). In addition, he offers a subtler account of the many meanings of the phrase wuji er taiji, and carefully delineates a Platonic reading of wu 無 and you 有 from their phenomenologically-oriented meaning as found in the Laozi and elsewhere (Le Gall 1894: 33–34). While he offers a reasonably flexible conception of qi as “the gaseous mass, made of air, indispensable to its co-principle Li,” he offers an ambiguous conception of li 理 as “the principle of activity, of movement, of order within the nature,” suggesting that this concept is itself active and creative, something that was not the case within Zhu Xi’s system (Le Gall 1894: 29–30). He insists on this reading, arguing that etymologically the concept of li is related to verbal actions of “directing” and “ordering” things (Le Gall 1894: 34). Notably, though Le Gall

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tended to provide only transcriptions for all the main metaphysical and key concepts in his translation, because it was placed immediately above the standard Chinese text for all to see, he entitled the section on li and qi as “forme et matière,” giving it a very strong Platonic or Aristotelian connotation that cannot but be misguided (Le Gall 1894: 83ff). It seems also odd that he refers to the correlated concepts of “Yn” (where “y” is the vowel “i”) and Yang as the latter being the “perfect” and the former the “imperfect” portions of matter (Le Gall 1894: 33). Where Le Gall generally does not fall into other problems of inaccuracy or forced readings that occurred in earlier studies, he is inconsistent in his use of sheng-ren 聖人 as “saint” or “sage,” a matter of great importance particularly for Roman Catholic scholars who regularly support the former rendering rather than the latter. In fact, Le Gall gives a resounding account of the “perfectibility of humans” within Zhu Xi’s system, and in that context renders the term only as “saint” (Le Gall 1894: 59–70). Following other Roman Catholic precedents, he prefers to translate xian 賢 or junzi 君子 as “sage” instead (Le Gall 1894: 60–61). Nevertheless, it seems that Le Gall cannot fully accept the ancient Ruist sages as equivalents to Christian saints, and so once within his conceptual analysis as well as once within his translation, he refers to Masters Kong and Meng as “sages,” and in another place shengren as “sage,” and not “saints” (Le Gall 1894: 38, 103). In spite of some questionable interpretations and inconsistencies, it must be underscored that Le Gall’s work was a profound advance in the historical, philosophical and exegetical study of Zhu Xi’s worldview and claims. It set a new standard for comprehensive coverage of past studies in both Chinese and European languages, while also providing careful analyses of key terms within Zhu Xi’s general system.

2.12 Further Exegetical Uses of Zhu Xi’s Corpus in Missionary-Scholars’ Works Since James Legge set a high standard for canonical translations in his Chinese Classics, many missionary-scholars living in China were very aware of the multifaceted precedents that his canon-in-translation set (Pfister 2011: 434–50). Consequently, they sought to emulate many of those facets of his work. One solid example of this phenomenon appeared in the similarly vast series of translations produced by the French Jesuit living in the city of Xian 獻 in Hebei province, Séraphin Couvreur 顧賽芬 (1835–1919) (Fei 2016a; Pfister 2015a). Couvreur’s corpus included both modern French and church Latin renderings of all of the Ruist scriptures except for the Yijing, including instead a version of the semi-canonical text of the Yi Li 儀禮 (the Book of Etiquette and Ceremonial). Nevertheless, the most obvious presence of his reliance on Zhu Xi’s commentaries occurs in his first publication of Les Quatres Livres in 1895. In each opening of that work, Couvreur provided the standard Chinese text at the top, followed underneath

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by his own idiosyncratic French ­transcription of each ideograph (an innovation on Legge’s format), and at the bottom of each page renderings of that text in French and Latin, the former in the left column, and the latter on the right. Notably, though at first glance there seems to be no commentarial notes at all in this format, Couvreur did something innovative. In order to present the specific details of the imperially authorized commentary of Zhu Xi for these works, he added within the Chinese text at the top of the page excerpts of Zhu Xi’s descriptive and commentarial notes. These notes were subsequently also included in the two translations at the bottom, normally appearing as parenthetical comments. More detailed accounts of some of these matters will indicate just how much Couvreur relied on Zhu Xi’s commentaries. In his preface Couvreur indicated that the commentator who was “most in vogue” even at the end of the nineteenth century was “Tchou Hi” [i.e., Zhu Xi in his French transcription] (Couvreur 1895: v). In the same location he clarified that he employed the Sishu Zhangju 四書章句 ([Commentaries to] Chapters and Verses in the Four Books) as a basis for his work, a work “divided into chapters and annotated by Tchou Hi.” These claims are thoroughly manifested throughout the four translations that appear in the order of the Daxue, Zhongyong, Lunyu, and the Mengzi. They appear as “notes” extensively in the first three of Couvreur’s versions of the Four Books, but less obviously in the last lengthy text. Since the imperially authorized forms of the Daxue (La Grande Science) and Zhongyong (L’Invariable Milieu) were reorganized by Zhu Xi and introduced by sectional headings and other comments, Couvreur added all those comments in both the Chinese text above as well as the French and Latin renderings below. Introductory and sectional notes provided by Zhu Xi were presented in full sized Chinese characters, but dropped down one line from the top of the page, following Chinese traditions related to commentarial texts; Zhu Xi’s explanatory notes were put into half-sized characters, and placed either beside the canonical text or in two columns underneath and beside the large columns of the scripture that ran from the top to the bottom and from the right side of the page to the left side. As a consequence of these conventions, there are notes on almost every page in the first 15 pages of the Daxue, and then they occur less frequently toward the end (see Couvreur 1895: 18, 23–25). A very similar situation appears in Couvreur’s presentation of the Zhongyong, with every page among the first ten pages bearing textual guidelines or commentarial notes prepared originally by Zhu Xi, but appearing less frequently in the latter part of the text (see Couvreur 1895: 39, 44, 53, 67). What is important about all of these facets of Couvreur’s sinological text is that the presence of Zhu Xi is literally ubiquitous. No other commentary is referred to by name, and the form of these texts is based strictly on the authorized version that Zhu Xi had created seven centuries earlier. Many times in Couvreur’s version of the Lunyu the notes took up at least half of the Chinese text at the top of the page, and sometimes the whole of it (see for examples, Couvreur 1895: 85, 88, 91–94, 116–18, 125–27, 133–35, 140–42, and 211, 250, 260, 263, 275). Those notes of this sort in the Mengzi were less numerous, but still can be easily found (for example Couvreur 1895: 383, 406, 605, 607). No similar set of conventions was adopted for any of the other Ruist

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scriptures that Couvreur rendered, highlighting once again the importance and impact of Zhu Xi’s commentaries to the Four Books. Another influential translator and interpreter of Ruist scriptures, as well as writer of a history of Chinese philosophy, was the unusual German missionary-scholar residing in Qingdao 青島, Richard Wilhelm (1873–1930). He was known initially in Chinese as Wei Lixian 尉禮賢, and then from 1924 (and by most Chinese persons) as Wei Lixian 衛禮賢. Though he was undoubtedly a modern sympathizer of both Ruist and Daoist traditions, he was also an innovator in translation, willing to shift texts and to offer both “literal” and “modern” renderings of classical passages in order to attract his German readership (Fei 2005; Pfister 2011). That form of “double translation” was done particularly in his first major German “canon-intranslation,” Konfuzius Gespräche, the Lunyu in modern German (Wilhelm 1910). As in the case of James Legge and Séraphin Couvreur, in preparing his translations of the Lunyu and the Mengzi, Wilhelm could not avoid the authoritative presence of Zhu Xi’s commentaries to those texts. Nevertheless, much like Legge, Wilhelm’s use of Zhu’s commentaries shows an active intellectual engagement with the Song Ruist’s textual explanations. From the briefly annotated bibliographic list found in the back of Konfuzius Gespräche one finds three Chinese texts (put into Wilhelm’s own German transcription) that are either explicitly using or promoting Zhu Xi’s explanations (Wilhelm 1910: 220–21). Within the footnotes found at the bottom of the page of Wilhelm’s Lunyu citations of “Dschu Hi” were made 21 times, more than any other set of commentaries (the closest being Japanese commentaries that he referred to 13 times). Still, the notable diversity of reasons for doing so are manifest as well. Among those more than 20 references by Wilhelm to Zhu Xi’s commentaries in the Lunyu, he supported the Song Ruist’s renderings only four times (Wilhelm 1910: 81–82, 144, 207), and explicitly opposed them ten times (Wilhelm 1910: 62–63, 92, 99, 126, 146, 148–49, 161–62, 208, 210). In addition, there were times he characterized Zhu Xi’s alternative renderings or explanations, but without any direct evaluative comment (Wilhelm 1910: 71, 100, 102, 118, 138). A similar situation appears in the less numerous footnotes of his German Mengzi, even though he clearly preferred the commentaries of the Han Ruist, Zhao Qi, to those of Zhu Xi, citing the former 17 times, and the latter only 11 times in the footnotes. Once again, explicit support for Zhu Xi’s explanations appears only three times (Wilhelm 1916: 141, 177, 181), but opposition only occurs twice (Wilhelm 1916: 46, 91); references for the sake of historical explanation occur twice (Wilhelm 1916: 131, 137), and recordings of Zhu Xi’s alternative interpretations without further evaluations occur the other four times (Wilhelm 1916: 89, 119, 168, 173). Another indication that Wilhelm in his later years no longer felt obliged to adhere to Zhu Xi’s precedents is the fact that the two renderings of the Zhongyong and the Daxue in his posthumously published version of the Liji followed the old text tradition, and not those reorganized and commented on by Zhu Xi (Wilhelm 1930: 3–29). With all this having been clarified, it is still notable that a copy of the numerous volumes of Zhu Xi’s Complete Works was found in the Chinese library Wilhelm created and maintained in Frankfurt (Walravens 2008). More significantly, in a very

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brief synopsis of some of the main streams of the cultural history of “Chinese philosophy,” Wilhelm referred to “Dschu Hi” as “a systematic spirit of the first order,” and explicitly compared his rationalized presentations positively with those of Aristotle (Wilhelm 1929: 104). In subsequent summary statements regarding Zhu Xi’s worldview (Wilhelm 1929: 106–7), Wilhelm referred to Zhu Xi’s “dualism” based on “the law of rationality” or “rational law” and “matter,” that is, li and qi. The “Original Pole” (Urpol, taiji) is identical with “the rational law,” and generates the “polar-powers” of “Darkness and Light.” He recognized that it was the “rational law” that brought unity into the cosmos, while “matter” was the “principle of diversity.” While his account of the nature of humans followed general accounts in their understanding of humans’ moral orientation—the nature being good, but matter making many humans more or less bad—it was Wilhelm’s account of two dimensions of whole person cultivation and tendencies within the general nature of his philosophical system that bears out some important insight. The rationalistic tendencies that are manifest in Zhu Xi’s works are relying on teachings of Cheng Yi, and emphasize gewu 格物, the cultivation of one’s person indirectly by means of searching for li in the external phenomena in ways that promote natural scientific study; the intuitive tendencies within Zhu’s teachings are linked to the teachings of Cheng Hao, promoting “still sitting” and direct contact with one’s inwardness. These two tendencies within Zhu Xi’s teachings on whole person cultivation (xiushen 修身) prompted the response of Lu Jiuyuan 陸九淵 (1139–1192) to challenge Zhu Xi’s rationalistic and externalized alternatives, and became the basis for Wang Yangming’s criticisms, according to Wilhelm (Wilhelm 1929: 107–11).

2.13 The French Jesuit Missionary-Scholar, Léon Wieger A far more radical account of Zhu Xi’s life and works was offered by another French Jesuit living in the city of Xian, a younger colleague of Couvreur, Léon Wieger 戴遂良 (1856–1933). Having first earned a degree in medicine, Wieger only joined the Jesuits in 1881, and was made a priest in 1887. He had an intense character, quite distinct from the quiet and more subdued Couvreur, but he also worked hard and systematically in learning many facets of Chinese language and literature, earning the Stanislas Julien Prize in 1905 for a volume related to Chinese language study. A prolific writer, Wieger dealt with Zhu Xi’s life and works in the context of his effort to give a summary account of the religious beliefs and philosophical claims of Chinese intellectuals. This volume he published first in 1917 in French, and then later in an English rendering in 1927. Though he was aware of Le Gall’s solid precedent and de Harlez’s questionable efforts in French (Wieger 1969: 671), he employed original Chinese sources by and about Zhu Xi to write up a seven-­ page synopsis of his account of the impact of Zhu Xi’s life and works. This formed about half of the 71st lesson in that volume of 77 lessons, and so was a significant though brief historical summary and evaluation of selected points he wanted to emphasize regarding Zhu Xi. After characterizing the philosophical works of his

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Song Ruist predecessors, Wieger took another perspective to initiate his discussion of Zhu Xi, focusing on the political dialectic that developed within the Song empire due to the intense debates between political conservatives represented in part by Cheng Yi 程頤 (1033–1107) and political innovators represented to a large degree by Wang Anshi 王安石 (1021–1086) (Wieger 1969: 664–67). Wieger held nothing back in demonstrating that his sympathies lay with the political innovators, and not with the conservative school that developed around the works and debates in which Zhu Xi was intimately involved. He noted that Zhu Xi was “the soul” of the new “School of the Way,” representing the conservative side of the political pendulum of his day, and that his influences through that school remained firm for the remaining dynasties of the Chinese empire till 1905 (Wieger 1969: 667–68). Wieger does not mince words in his criticism of “the arrogance” that he found situated within Zhu Xi’s claims, noting that in terms of character he “had an extraordinary gift for estranging and alienating whomever came in contact with him” (Wieger 1969: 667). The “Chuhsi-ism” that went on to prevail particularly in the Qing dynasty is typified by Wieger as being atheistic, “a dynamic materialism” that is “not even a pantheism,” and one that borrowed significantly from doctrines found in Nagarjuna’s teachings and Tiantai 天台 Buddhism (Wieger 1969: 669, 671). In this way he considered lixue to be an admixture of teachings that “poisoned China until 1905” (Wieger 1969: 668). All these claims are justified by both the political history that Wieger summarized and his account of the key ideas within Zhu Xi’s system. Those included an interactive dualism between li and qi that was ultimately materialistic. According to Wieger, li 理, or “the norm,” is “one, infinite, eternal, unchangeable, unalterable, homogenous, necessary, blind, fatal, unconscious, unintelligent” (Wieger 1969: 668). Typifying “the norm” in this very unconventional manner, one that is particularly problematic in claiming li is “blind” and “unintelligent,” Wieger also criticized Zhu Xi’s account of human death because it did not provide for a surviving soul (Wieger 1969: 668–69). Oddly, however, he did not develop any account of “nature” (xing 性) or human nature, but saw the human “mind” as having gained its intelligence only from active matter. Willing to portray aspects of Zhu Xi’s work by providing translations of a collection of sayings near the end of this section, Wieger chose passages from Zhu Xi’s recorded sayings and other writings that supported his general claims. In this way, Wieger presented a very contentious and post-traditional Roman Catholic critique of Zhu Xi’s political and philosophical heritage.

2.14 New Comprehensive Studies by the British Baptist Missionary-Scholar, J. Percy Bruce With the advent of the post-traditional creation of the Republic of China there had come an increase of interest and developments in the varied Protestant Christian presence in the late Qing and the early Republican period. The English Baptist

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missionary-scholar, Joseph Percy Bruce (1861–1934), had a distinctive part in that process, having helped to create the Qilu University 齊魯大學 (earlier known as Shandong Protestant University and then Shandong Christian University). Serving as the president of the university in the heyday of Chinese modernization, from 1916 to 1920, Bruce completed a dissertation on Zhu Xi and had the main body of the translation (amounting to just over 440 pages in length) published in 1922, followed the next year by a historical, conceptual, comparative philosophical and comparative religious study of both Zhu Xi’s predecessors, as well as his own life and his main intellectual contributions. Both volumes provided new standards in their day for studies of Zhu Xi. In particular, the second volume demonstrated a general awareness of most of the previous studies and a sincere effort at creating a new and informed vocabulary for Zhu Xi studies. Bruce believed that “Chu Hsi ranks, not only as one of China’s master minds, but also as one of the world’s great thinkers” (Bruce 1922: xi). How Bruce proceeded to justify this claim in his two tomes, and how well he succeeded in doing so, will be the guidelines for our following discussion. Choosing to render into English the 42nd through 48th “books” of Zhu Xi’s Complete Works, and so avoiding the contentions that had surrounded McClatchie’s and Le Gall’s renderings of the 49th book, Bruce provided a thorough overview of Zhu Xi’s account of humans in the midst of the phenomenal world and their ability to attune their lives to moral values and realizable virtues that could be applied universally to all human persons. When reading through these voluminous translations, one appreciates that in this modern English rendering of so many passages drawn from Zhu Xi’s works, Bruce numbered all the passages in sequences and sub-­ sequences within each book, unlike the unwieldly French text of Charles de Harlez. One finds boldness in his choice to translate dao as “Moral Law” (Bruce 1922: 269ff); many more skeptical questions arise when one finds that li 理 is rendered as “Law” (Bruce 1922: 290ff), ren 仁  as “Love” (Bruce 1922: 311ff), and li 禮 as “Reverence” (Bruce 1922: 397ff), all capitalized in order to indicate their technical usage. Obviously, then, the network of terms become clearer as one reads along. One learns, for example, that tianli becomes either “Heaven’s Law” or “Divine Law” (Bruce 1922: 11, 301–2). The contentious debates over renderings for taiji are responded to by a neologism, the “Supreme Ultimate,” a phrase that has continued to be employed by some scholars of Zhu Xi in English into the twenty-first century (first seen in Bruce 1922: 158). Significantly, the phrase “saints and sages” is found in the text very rarely (Bruce 1922: 166), with the general term “sage” in the singular and plural used for shengren 聖人 and shengxian 聖賢. This kind of rendering is certainly easier for a Baptist to accept than for a Roman Catholic or Anglican, where the latter traditions honor “saints” as persons of earned virtuosi status. Hints of Bruce’s comparative philosophical interest are found in one of the few footnotes to the translation, where he compares the outcome of “entering into” the li 理 of an object as parallel to Henri Bergson’s concept of “intuitive sympathy” (Bruce 1922: 180). Notably with regard to various of these renderings, Chan Wing-tsit found Bruce’s translation of jing 敬 as “seriousness” to fit better than the prevailing term,

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“reverence,” because it reflected the Song Ruist technical development of this term as strictly referring to an inner state of the heart-mind (Chan 1976: 557). This being so, Chan did not suggest any alternative for li 禮 (such as “ritual propriety”). One can add here that it was Chan himself that also noted that in the development of the concept of ren, later understandings of it (including the work by Tan Sitong 譚嗣同 [1865–1898] called Renxue 仁學 [A Study of Love]) are clearly equivalent to the Christian idea of “love.” Whether this is also the case for Zhu Xi’s understanding of the term, however, would require more research and elaboration. In this light, then, Bruce provides another footnote to explain his understanding of this matter in Zhu Xi’s conception: ai 愛 is “the emotion of love,” while ren 仁 is “the disposition love” itself (Bruce 1922: 312). The subtitle of the second volume produced by Bruce is a more accurate description of the content of that volume: “An Introduction to Chu Hsi and the Sung School of Chinese Philosophy.” Out of the fourteen chapters in the volume, nine have to do with the tenets of Zhu Xi’s system, one with his biography, and one with the concluding claims addressed by Bruce. It is in the conclusion that the major concerns that motivated Bruce to pursue this extensive study are articulated. Initially, according to Bruce’s own claims, he understood Zhu Xi’s philosophy to be “both materialistic and atheistic,” based on selective reading and “the prevailing impression” he had received from others. Only when he began and continued to read Zhu Xi’s works directly, and thought about them for several years, did he become convinced, first of all, that his worldview could not be considered materialistic, and much later, that he was also not an atheist (Bruce 1923: 315). While the metaphysical dimensions of his philosophical system based on li 理 and taiji were relatively manifest, and could never be simply reduced to singular “matter” or any specific material presence, the personality of the Divine was an issue that taxed Bruce extensively. It was his reflections based upon a third denotation of the meaning of tian which included personality that convinced Bruce that a theism was in fact present, because tian also had its own “mind” (Bruce 1923: 294–300). From an angle of existential experience, Bruce added that Zhu Xi believed that the cosmos and especially the sovereign Heaven was animated by nothing other than ren 仁, the highest and comprehensive virtue that animates the best of humans as well. So, rather than founding his system on a rational ideal or an act of a strong will, Zhu Xi chose to establish his claims on an ontologically enriched understanding of ren as “Love.” Bruce argues for the profundity of this position on the basis of the justifications provided by a contemporary Anglophone philosopher who had given the well-known Gifford Lectures, James Ward (Bruce 1922: 317–19). By using this method, then, Bruce begins to assert and justify the claim that Zhu Xi is truly a world-class philosopher. In order to reach that interpretive goal, he had first of all to deal with all the Christian scholarly precedents that had set out accounts by studying Zhu Xi’s commentaries, summarizing his claims, or rendering part of his corpus into a foreign language. These he did briefly in reference to Charles de Harlez and Ernst Faber (Bruce 1923: 14, 163, 263), but also at much greater length and detail in reference to Thomas McClatchie, Le Gall, and Legge. In addition, he justified his own

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r­enderings and interpretations against positions held by other notable missionaryscholars and sinologists, including Herbert and Lionel Giles, J.  J. M. de Groot, Walter Medhurst, William Soothill, D. J. Suzuki, and Samuel Wells Williams (Bruce 1923: 101, 141, 142, 149, 169, 263, 287). While these smaller discussions in themselves manifest adequate concern for alternative interpretations, an even stronger step was made by Bruce to compare various elements of Zhu Xi’s systems to aspects of the works of Aristotle (Bruce 1923: 48–49), numerous Buddhist and Daoist tenets, as well as the claims of early and later modern European intellectuals that included Henri Bergson, William Knight, Gottfried Wilhelm Leibnitz [sic], Sir Oliver Lodge, Herbert Spenser, Baruch Spinoza, and as has been mentioned already, James Ward (Bruce 1923: 53, 104–6, 110–113, 115, 145, 148, 150–51, 177, 201, 212, 241, 284, 310, 317). Whether or not Bruce succeeded in convincing his readers about the profundity of Zhu Xi’s philosophical system might still be debated, but no one can doubt the seriousness and personal commitment displayed in his effort to do so.

3 Influential Works on Zhu Xi by Non-Christian Scholars in the Twentieth Century During the post-traditional developments in mainland China after the 1911 revolution, there were also many new efforts at seeking to understand the impact of what were then being referred to as “Chinese philosophers” in different eras of the pre-­ imperial and imperial age. Among those addressed were Zhu Xi. As a consequence, many Christian scholars who began to study Zhu’s corpus in the twentieth century had access to a wide range of new studies that influenced their interpretations and evaluations of his life and claims. For this reason, then, it is valuable to note some of the most influential among these non-Christian studies produced during this period, in order to understand what the foreign and indigenous Christian scholars who continued to advance in their studies of Zhu Xi had the opportunity to understand and respond to in these new research works, unlike those in previous eras. In the first part of this study dealing with the pre-WWII period, the dominant figures writing about Zhu Xi were foreign Roman Catholic and Protestant missionary-­scholars, most of whom had lived in traditional China during the Qing dynasty for extensive periods of time. Among the former, Jesuit missionary-­scholars from Italian and French cultural backgrounds predominated, and among the latter were primarily British and American Protestant missionary-scholars. As was demonstrated above, their Christian worldviews often informed their hermeneutic orientations to the texts in Zhu Xi’s corpus that they addressed, guiding their interpretive choices in not only the translations of key terms, but also in how they addressed the major questions about the status of Zhu Xi’s systematic philosophy and its worldview.

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Nevertheless, as I have read through many later studies of Zhu Xi by over a dozen Christian intellectuals after WWII, it was necessary to recognize the broader cultural transformations they had to address due to the impacts of the 1911 “democratic” revolution, the modernization of Chinese institutions, and the subsequent victory of the Chinese Communist Revolution in 1949 (Pfister 2015b). Anticipating and accompanying those post-traditional developments in Chinese cultural and political contexts were the secularizing tendencies within Chinese academic settings as well as in international contexts of university-level academic institutions. All of the Christian scholars and intellectuals mentioned in this portion of our study were trained completely or in part within educational institutions that reflected these modernizing and secularizing trends. With regard to post-traditional studies of Chinese “teachings”—whether put into the disciplinary matrices of “Chinese philosophy” or “Chinese religion”—secular worldviews and their attendant methodologies were much more manifest in those publications than in works by missionary-scholars within the pre-WWII setting. Indeed, after 1950 it was basically impossible for Christian missionaries to operate in any normal vocational compacity as missionaries within mainland China, so that Christian philosophers and other intellectuals had to find other ways to engage Zhu Xi studies than as explicit missionary-scholars. From the angle of the secularization of tertiary level institutions internationally during the twentieth century and in the PRC specifically after 1949, it is notable that this trend had begun to wane in the light of new scholarly justifications supporting de-secularization. So it is significant that in 2003 two major works were published in English that underscored that de-secularization: Confucian Spirituality (Tu and Tucker 2003–2004) and the RoutledgeCurzon Encyclopedia of Confucianism (Yao 2003). Both works were published in two tomes, and so were lengthy and thorough in their considerations. In the latter case, there were numerous critically-informed articles describing and discussing religious themes, values, and institutions within various texts and contexts of Ruism over a vast historical period spanning three millennia. Previous to 2003, it was not at all so easy to publish works with these kinds of orientations, since before the 1980s there was an ideological resistance in mainland China of any discussion of this sort on the basis of a principled Marxist critique of religion. Though this principled opposition to religious studies within philosophical settings in mainland China had been overcome in the mid-1990s (Pfister 2012), there were still within each of those two major works a diversity of interpretive positions and many significant conflicts related to nature of those spiritual and religious claims. These undoubtedly had their own cultural and interpretive impacts on all of the post-WWII Christian scholars mentioned in this study. Other important developments in the modern study of Chinese philosophy and its history had also taken place before WWII that had significant impact on studies of Zhu Xi’s corpus as well as of Chinese philosophical traditions in general after WWII. Notably, a number of these studies were produced by German sinologists during the pre-WWII period, signifying a move away from reliance on publications by missionary-scholars in China to those produced by university faculty members in the discipline of sinology or by modern Chinese scholars as philosophers or

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h­ istorians of Chinese philosophy. For example, four major studies on the history of Chinese philosophy were published in German in the late 1920s, during the Weimar Republic period, and only one of these was produced by a person who formerly had been a missionary-scholar and then had become an academic sinologist. Among these works were two entitled simply as volumes on “Chinese philosophy”: a work of over 400 pages produced by the well-recognized Buddhist scholar and sinologist, Heinrich Friedrich Hackmann (1864–1935) (Hackmann 1927), and a much smaller work by Richard Wilhelm (1873–1930), who had taught for 2  years at Beijing University in the Foreign Languages Department (1922–1924), and was a former missionary in the colony of Qingdao, as it was ruled first by Germans, and subsequently by Japanese (Wilhelm 1929). Two more substantial works in German dealing with the history of Chinese philosophy were also produced during the latter part of the 1920s. Ernst Viktor Zenker’s (1865–1940) two volume work dealing with the period from the “classical” works to the Han dynasty in the first tome, and the longer period from the Han dynasty to the beginning of the twentieth century in the second tome (Zenker 1926, 1927). In addition, a massive three volume set on the history of Chinese philosophy in German was produced by Alfred Forke (1867–1944) dealing with the “old,” “medieval,” and “newer” stages of Chinese philosophy, where Zhu Xi’s works were discussed within the historical context of the “newer” stage (Forke 1927, 1934, 1938). Naturally, all of these works were also responding to developments in the new academic institutions related to philosophy in general and Chinese philosophy in particular within Republican China at the time, including the important precedent set by the post-traditional philosophical and literary scholar, Hu Shi 胡適 (Hu Shih, 1891–1962), when he published his critically reconsidered modern “grand outline” of Chinese philosophy in 1919. Just over a decade later the first volume in a two-volume work in Chinese entitled Zhongguo Zhexue Shi 中國哲學史 (A History of Chinese Philosophy) was produced by Feng Youlan 馮友蘭 (Fung Yu-lan, 1895–1990) in 1931, and was so significant that it was later rendered into English by Derke Bodde and published by Princeton University Press (Fung 1952–1953). Feng was also notable because of his attempt to produce a modern philosophical system of his own reliant on some basic concepts and metaphysical claims drawn from Zhu Xi’s philosophical system, manifesting that reliance by referring to that system as the Xin Lixue 新理學 or New Principle-centered Learning (produced in six small volumes from 1937 to 1946). Whether those overseas studying Zhu Xi’s works were aware of this precedent by Feng Youlan was an issue to consider, primarily because the chaos created by WWII prevented some from obtaining materials from China during those same years. Nevertheless, as will be seen below, those who read German and wrote in German had some significant advantages in having substantial scholarly works to rely on that developed modern interpretations of Chinese philosophical themes and their history. The cultural and military chaos that descended upon the Chinese mainland in the 1930s, and was extended by international involvement in various areas once WWII was initiated, created very unstable conditions for the development of modern philosophical studies in general and Chinese philosophical contributions to ­philosophical

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studies in particular. Interpretations of Zhu Xi’s corpus was consequently submerged within a broader set of concerns to modernize China, and in the case of revolutionary ideologies and their related forces, to reject China’s traditional teachings as anachronous. It was under these conditions, then, that new accounts of the history of Chinese philosophical traditions were written in the post WWII setting. Subsequently, Chinese Marxist philosophers in mainland China such as Guo Moruo 郭沫若 (1892–1978), Xiao Jiefu 蕭萐父 (1924–2008), Zhang Dainian 張岱年 (1909–2004) and the later Feng Youlan (during the period from 1975 to 1990) recast the history of Chinese philosophical traditions along lines that either anticipated aspects of dialectical historical materialism or was castigated as being “idealistic” and anachronous; Zhu Xi’s li/qi metaphysics qualified him for their straightforward ideological criticism. When these discursive influences are combined with the Marxist principled critique of “religion,” it made it almost practically impossible for Chinese Christian thinkers to study and publish works on Zhu Xi in mainland China during the balance of the twentieth century. Nevertheless, along with the wars that ravaged mainland China during the 1930s and 1940s there was an exodus of Chinese citizens to various places outside of China, including some notable intellectual refugees who set up residence in both Taiwan and Hong Kong. Among those was the well-recognized historian, Qian Mu 錢穆 (Ch’ien Mu, 1895–1990), a scholar of Zhu Xi in his own right (Qian 1971), and the notable Ruist scholars who refused to adopt either the secularist reading of Chinese Ruist traditions or their status as anachronous teachings irrelevant to post-traditional modern Chinese cultural circles. The prolific nature of the works of several of those key “New Ruist” intellectuals—particularly Tang Junyi 唐君毅 (T’ang Chün-I, 1909–1978), Mou Zongsan 牟宗三 (Mou Tsung-san, 1909–1995), and Xu Fuguan 徐復觀 (Hsü Fu-kwan, 1904–1982)—marked them out as notable counter-cultural advocates for Ruist traditions in general, and their own particular interpretations regarding Zhu Xi’s status (Pfister 1995; Wang 2015: 92). Subsequently, some notable Taiwanese and Hong Kong scholars studied for the final degrees in philosophy overseas, and went on to argue for the relevance of various Chinese philosophical and religious traditions. Among these were Liu Shu-hsien (Liu Shuxian 劉述先, 1934–2016) and Chung-ying Cheng (Cheng Zhongying 成中英, 1932–). Liu, having been trained in the philosophy of religion at Southern Illinois University in the USA, became known also as a major scholar of Zhu Xi’s corpus, producing a volume on Zhu Xi’s philosophical system that was republished numerous times (Liu 1982); Cheng completed his doctoral work at Harvard in American philosophical traditions, but was simultaneously concerned about the complexities involved in modernizing and articulating a contemporary synthesis of major Chinese philosophical traditions. Having established The Journal of Chinese Philosophy in 1973, and the International Society for Chinese Philosophy soon afterwards, he pursued many themes in comparative philosophical and Chinese philosophical modes, producing nearly two decades later a volume of his mature thought in English where he sought to indicate the directions of philosophical themes that could embrace selective aspects of Zhu Xi’s philosophical concepts within a new Chinese philosophical framework appealing to an onto-hermeneutic (or onto-generative hermeneutic)

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insight into the nature of reality and human experience (Cheng 1991). Unlike the earlier intellectual refugees that formed New Ruist schools in Hong Kong and Taiwan, who published almost exclusively in Chinese (the notable exception being Tang Junyi), Liu and Cheng published extensively in both Chinese and English language media, and travelled extensively within mainland China after the political reform movements in the early 1980s within the PRC allowed them to be involved in numerous conferences and invited lecture series there. To this can be added the unusual contributions in both English and Chinese by Tu Wei-ming, whose expertise was in historical studies, but who became a well-recognized modern Ruist advocate during this same period. Consequently, the international impact of these three notable “Contemporary Ruist” Chinese intellectuals during the last four decades had an immense impact also in studies of Chinese philosophy in general, and in offering alternative perspectives that influenced Zhu Xi Studies in particular. Notably, many of the Chinese Christian scholars to be discussed below knew these major Chinese intellectual figures personally, and studied with one or more of them during their formative years; all of them had to become engaged in the intellectual turmoil that accompanied the cultural Angst that continued to be written about and exposited by those major Chinese philosophical figures outside of mainland China during the last half of the twentieth century. Though discussions of the various influences of these scholars’ works on each of the Chinese Christian scholars’ writings cannot be elaborated at length, the shifts in orientation that they adopted and developed clearly reflected their engagements with the works, teachings and influences of many of them, and obviously affected how they themselves would read, evaluate, and readdress themes that were drawn out of Zhu Xi’s corpus. One event of immense significance for this study should be mentioned: there was a major international conference focusing on the studies of Zhu Xi held in 1982 in Honolulu, Hawai’i, coordinated by both the Philosophy Department of the University of Hawai’i at Manoa as well as certain institutions within the East–West Center located next to that campus. It was notable because it was the first time that some major mainland Chinese philosophers, including Feng Youlan, could attend such an international gathering after the tumultuous end of the Cultural Revolution and the assertion of the beginning of a new “reform and opening up” period in Chinese Communist ideological circles. In addition, there were a good number of the major figures present in that gathering that came from Hong Kong, Taiwan, and places where some Chinese philosophers had obtained academic positions elsewhere in the USA, including Cheng Chung-ying at the University of Hawai’i itself, as well as Tu Wei-ming from the University of California at Berkeley. Also among those attending was the Taiwanese Roman Catholic archbishop and president of the Roman Catholic Fu Jen University in Taipei, Lo Kuang 羅光, who reflected on his experiences in that meeting in significantly critical ways, as will be seen below. One of the key organizers of that meeting was the prolific scholar of Chinese religious and philosophical traditions, Chan Wing-tsit, who had written numerous articles in Chinese on various topics related to Zhu Xi’s philosophical corpus, and subsequently would publish two more major works on Zhu Xi studies (Chan 1986, 1989). The stimulus for Zhu Xi Studies that came from this conference and the later

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p­ ublications by Chan Wing-tsit in English, among other publications that might be mentioned, was multiform and internationally significant. Finally, the persons chosen to be discussed below are Roman Catholic scholars and Chinese Protestant scholars. There are, in fact, a good number of living Chinese and foreign Christian scholars who could also be mentioned, but our space is limited, so that it is not possible to address their very rich offerings here. Consequently, all of those studied in this section are those who have died before the time of the writing of this work.

4 Zhu Xi’s Post-WWII Christian Interpreters In this period there are six major and minor Christian interpreters of Zhu Xi who have contributed to further discussions of Zhu’s life and corpus, and who passed away either before or just after the advent of the twenty-first century. A good number of other living Chinese and foreign Christian philosophers and scholars have engaged Zhu Xi’s works as well, but they are not a few, and their works are numerous, so that they will not be included in this discussion. Among the six, three are particularly significant: Princeton S. Hsü, Stanislas Lo Kuang, and Julia Ching, and so more of the following discussion will focus on their contributions. The other three include two foreign Catholic intellectuals, the German Benedictine Olaf Graf and the Portuguese Jesuit Joaquim Guerra, and one Chinese Anglican priest, the Anglican priest, Simon Ho Sai-ming.

4.1 The Baptist Pastor-Scholar in Hong Kong, Princeton S. Hsü (Xu Songshi) Though I have characterized the Baptist intellectual here as a pastor-scholar from Hong Kong, this is a far too simple description of this major Chinese Protestant educator, pastor, writer, and editor. In fact, Xu Songshi 徐松石 (1900–1999), who took the name in English, Princeton S. Hsü (Leung and Chu 2012: 42), grew up under the tutelage of a Cantonese-speaking Hakka father who had achieved the initial educational degree of xiucai 秀才 in the late Qing period. Consequently, he was oriented toward a literary career from a very early age, even in spite of the revolution that brought an end to traditional dynastic governance. Like the two Chinese Christian intellectuals already described above, his life spanned nearly the whole of the twentieth century, experiencing all the intensity of the emergence of a post-­ traditional modern China. Having completed his undergraduate career in Shanghai at what was then called Hujiang University 滬江大學, Hsü became a Baptist convert at the age of 19 during his first year of university life, even as the May Fourth Movement was taking place in Shanghai. Being quickly recognized for his literary

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style and intellectual creativity, he was ordained as a deacon within a Cantonese-­ speaking Baptist congregation in Shanghai at the age of 22, and soon afterward was named the principal of a high school for girls (Chongde Nü Zhong 崇德女中) in that region. An activist and Christian advocate, Hsü wrote much in Chinese about the modern value and historical worth of a Ruist-based vision of “Chinese culture” and the civilizational values of a biblically-based Protestant Christian worldview, believing that these two major streams of cultural life could be brought together in a modern expression of Chinese Christianity (Leung and Chu 2012: 46–51). Having worked in Shanghai in educational, writing, and editing jobs from a relatively early age, he was able to travel overseas to George Peabody College in the USA to obtain a master in education there when he was about 30  years old. Subsequently, he returned to Shanghai in order to continue his literary and educational work in the midst of the turbulent 1930s, becoming editor of a well-known Chinese Protestant magazine named Zhenguang zazhi 真光雜誌 (The True Light Magazine) (Leung and Chu 2012: 42). Unusually, then, Princeton Hsü did not take formal training in theology, but was a self-learned Baptist intellectual, and addressed questions in a number of books related to the indigenization (bensehua 本色化) of Chinese Protestant communities. According to one study (Leung and Chu 2012: 45), his life should be separated into four stages, but the last two stages involve the longest and most sustained efforts during his prolific life at discussing the possibilities for the indigenization of Christianity from two different perspectives: the first of those periods lasted from 1929 to 1957, and focused on the Chinese indigenization of Protestant theology; the second of those periods enveloped the rest of his life, from 1958 to 1999, and was reoriented toward “Christianizing” (Jiduhua 基督化, more literally, “transformed by Christ”) his particular vision of “Chinese culture.” It is during this latter period that he addressed specific questions related to Zhu Xi’s philosophical system. Because he wrote in a popular fashion, addressing questions in a relatively informed but also self-consciously evangelistic manner, Princeton Hsü did not add a scholarly apparatus including footnotes and indices. What distinguished his approach is that he sought to identify substantial questions and answer them from a perspective that regularly involved a significant amount of ethnographic and cultural knowledge. Most often, as a result, he referred to “Christianity” (Jidujiao 基督教) and “Chinese culture” in very general terms, but his form of Christianity was unswervingly centered on a biblically-based Protestant expression of Christianity, and his vision of “Chinese culture,” though enriched extensively by his ethnological studies and including Chinese Buddhism in the earlier phase of his discussions of indigenization, was oriented and justified as taking Ruist traditions as their major expression. With regard to Christianity, the one text he regularly cited was the Chinese Bible, using references to both the Old Testament (and particularly the wisdom literature there) and the New Testament, focusing on the culturally transformative significance of the Christian gospel (Leung and Chu 2012: 51–55). With regard to the Ruist tradition, his sanguine attitude about its teachings and traditions was based upon a comparative civilizational analysis of what he considered to be the four main cultural influences in the world: ancient Greek and Roman ­civilization,

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Buddhism, Ruism, and Christianity; among these, Ruism is closest and most amenable to Christianity according to Hsü (Leung and Chu 2012: 47–49). Nevertheless, his discussion of Ruist traditions focused primarily on the classical period, with Masters Kong and Meng being the main proponents. Only in one major work that he published under slightly different names and at different times, developing his main concern for the modern relevance and universal value of Christian civilization in contemporary Chinese cultural settings, did Princeton Hsü directly address matters related to Zhu Xi and “Song Ruism.” That work was given the later title of Christianity and Chinese Culture (Hsü 1971), and in its mature form with 23 chapter and just over 400 pages, it was republished numerous times for Chinese reading audiences in Hong Kong and Taiwan. I have had access to versions published under this title from 1962 and 1971, and found that their pagination was precisely the same, the only difference being that a special set of appendices of just over a dozen pages was added in the latter edition. In Chapters 9–14 Hsü discussed matters related to Ruist traditions, focusing first on “the Way of [Master] Kong” (Hsü 1971: 135–44), and offering a single page summary of his vision of ancient Ruism that includes the Supreme Lord (shangdi 上帝) (Hsü 1971: 144). It is this expression of theistic Ruism that Hsü finds to be most compatible with his Protestant vision of Christianity, especially as it is expressed in the “Six Classics” (Hsü 1971: 155–81, a summary chart found on 138), one interestingly including a strong affirmation of the value of The Book of Changes and its advocacy of a “proper reverence” (zheng jing 正敬) (Hsü 1971: 171–74). As a consequence, when he addresses “Song Ruism,” the position he adopts as most amenable to Christianity is “the Six Classics are our foonotes (liujing jie wo zhujiao 六經皆我註腳),” a position adopted by Lu Xiangshan 陸象山 (Hsü 1971: 184) with a moral vision that he finds so compatible with Christianity that he elaborates it in a section entitled “Christianity and the Persons who are Footnoted by the Six Classics” (Hsü 1971: 188–90). It is this perspective, augmented by Wang Yangming’s elaboration of this position (Hsü 1971: 204–8) that colors all that he has to explore in relationship to Zhu Xi’s teachings and the lixue tradition. Within his discussion of the Song Ruist teachings, Princeton Hsü tends to tie together teachings from all of Zhu Xi’s predecessors (Zhang Zai, Cheng Hao, Cheng Yi, and Shao Yong, but no mention of Zhou Dunyi) on three basic themes (Hsü 1971: 184–86), contrasting these generally with the moral focus of Lu Xiangshan’s xinxue. First, there is the claim that the relationship between tianli and humans’ heart-mind is such that principle/pattern produces a very rational vision (lixing 理性). It is for this reason, then, that Zhu Xi promotes learning and questioning (xuewen 學問) in order to discover the principle/pattern in all things. But how does this become involved with moral matters, according to Hsü? It is built out of a claim that Heaven’s heart-mind (tianxin 天心) ultimately is also humans’ heartmind (renxin 人心), so that once this is understood, a rational approach to manifesting the tianxin within one’s human consciousness is the key concern. It is done without any help from that heavenly source. As a consequence, as the third basic theme, the human heart-mind must be “completely good” (quan shan de 全善的). While other Song Ruists are quoted to confirm this claim, Hsü underscores that this

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claim is not so simply answered by Zhu Xi. In Zhu’s teaching, according to Hsü, one needs to discern the difference between the [human] nature (xing 性) which is completely good, and can be reached by the heart-mind that has not been dominated by feelings (qing 情), and the heart-mind itself that is a mixture of both nature and feelings. Though Hsü recognizes this is a way that Zhu Xi answers questions about the emergence of evil within humans who should be inherently good, he takes these answers to be inadequate for several reasons. First of all, Hsü argues that the cosmic vision of a harmonious union between the heavenly and human realms is more influenced by Daoism than the Way of Master Kong, and the understanding of the heart-mind and its connection with the Heavenly heart-mind is ultimately influenced by Buddhist teachings rather than the Way of Master Kong (Hsü 1971: 186). This skews the general teachings of the Song Ruists in a manner that promote a self-rectifying method for dealing with the issues of the human heart-mind, an issue that later on in the volume Hsü rejects as unable to overcome the weaknesses and evil tendencies of the conscience and heart-mind within humans (Hsü 1971: 191–92, 195). Here the second reason for questioning this approach to moral rectification rests on the Christian concern about humans’ sins and sinfulness, suggesting that the issues of the goodness and evil of human beings is more basic than the emergence of feelings within the heart-mind (Hsü 1971: 190–91). Because this is not recognized, then there is a strong tendency among Song Ruists, according to Hsü, to promote self-rectification without any understanding of the existence and involvement of a divine source of rectification (Hsü 1971: 195). Indeed, for Hsü, the greatest shortcoming within “Song Ruism” is the fact that they have set aside the ancient Ruist vision of shangdi, one that could point them toward the alternatives of divine sources of rectification (Hsü 1971: 196–200). Notably, throughout this whole discussion, Hsü refers to and quotes from Zhu Xi’s writings only three times, but always without citing any source for the quotation (Hsü 1971: 184–85). This cannot be seen, then, as a well-studied and articulate engagement with Zhu Xi’s philosophical system, even though Hsü himself admits that there are many aspects of a general Ruist worldview that help one to accomplish what the biblical Proverbs call “the guarding of the heart-mind” (Hsü 1971: 195, including a chart to indicate these connections on 213). Ultimately, his primary preference for the Lu–Wang teachings cause his account of Zhu Xi’s claims to be relatively superficial, even though this orientation has also been preferred by other Chinese Christian intellectuals after a more thorough study of all the relevant texts.

4.2 The German Benedictine in Japan, Olaf Graf It is of no little consequence philosophically that in the post WWII context the most substantial academic studies of Zhu Xi’s writings in Chinese by Christian scholars have been accomplished by Roman Catholic intellectuals situated within modern university settings, at times also from universities inspired by some form of Roman

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Catholic spirituality. Having lived initially in a monastic setting in Korea and then initiated his academic career by completing a dissertation in Leiden in 1941 on a Japanese Ruist scholar, Kaibara Ekiken 貝原益軒 (1630–1714), Olaf Graf (Otterspeer 1989: 373) was subsequently associated with Sophia University in Tokyo, and turned his attention to providing the first European language rendering of what he considered to be the “summa” of Zhu Xi’s studies, the work entitled Jinsi Lu 近思錄, the tome Chan Wing-tsit in his later English translation referred to as Reflections on Things at Hand (Chan 1967). In addition, nearly two decades later, he produced a hefty volume arguing for the permanent value of Zhu Xi’s philosophical system, couched within a larger project of a comparative philosophical and comparative cultural framework that advanced some unusual claims related to Song and Ming dynasty Ruist traditions, the Xingli School (Nature and Principle/ Pattern School), and subsequently also highlighting once again Zhu Xi’s notable intellectual contributions, primarily focused on the Jinsi Lu, but also referring occasionally to other works of Zhu Xi as found in translations done by other scholars. These two volumes set new multiform standards for research into Zhu Xi’s philosophical contributions, having taken up a major text within Zhu Xi’s corpus for careful translation and thorough interpretative assessments. In the first work, consisting of a complete German rendering and annotated explanations of the Jinsi Lu, was produced as a typescript involving an octavo sized set of four-tomes-in-three-volumes, and published by Monumenta Nipponica in this unusual format. The main body of this first rendering of the Jinsi Lu in any European language appeared in the second volume constituted as two-tomes-in-one-volume. In the first volume was a monographic length collection of seven essays providing a description, historical account, and conceptual interpretation of the Jinsi Lu as well as a final chapter on Zhu Xi’s worldview, while the final thick third volume was filled with explanatory notes related to the fourteen chapters of the German rendering of the original Chinese text. From a hermeneutic perspective that takes his Roman Catholic background seriously, it is important to note that Graf recognized the style of this work by Zhu Xi as a “summa,” paralleling it self-consciously to the theological compendium produced by Thomas Aquinas during the thirteenth century in Europe. It is also of interest to note also that most of the secondary sources Graf relied on for producing the renderings of the translation and commentaries, as well as his own extensive annotations in the third volume that came to nearly 550 pages in length, came from related Chinese and German studies. Notably, he focused on the continuing debate regarding the nature of Zhu Xi’s worldview, arguing in the final chapter of the first volume that the worldview described in the Jinsi Lu should be identified as being somewhere “between theism and monism.” What he meant by this is that Zhu Xi’s worldview had likenesses to Aquinas’ synthetic vision of reality (Graf 1953, vol. 1: 246–78) as well as to Spinoza’s monistic alternative (Graf 1953, vol. 1: 278–86), but could not be delimited by either general worldview, because it possessed its own unique claims as well (Graf 1953, vol. 1: 286–97). Graf summarized seventeenth century Japanese followers of Zhu Xi’s school as declaring that a personal understanding of tian was

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“senseless” (Graf 1953, vol. 1: 288), and then took extensive efforts to study Hölderin’s vision of an impersonal deified natural order (Graf 1953, vol. 1: 290–93) in order to draw up some of his own unusual conclusions. Graf continued the trajectory of his studies in 1970 by collecting and analyzing accounts of Zhu Xi’s and other Sung and Ming Ruist scholars’ worldviews— referred to under the rubric of slightly misleading “Song Confucianism”—relying heavily on analyses offered by “the latest generation of Sinology” (Graf 1970: 36) in Europe as well as a few scholars’ works from Korea, Italy, the USA, and Japan (for example, Graf 1970: 22–23, 212, 224–25,307–8). Among those he explicitly counted to be in that “latest generation” of sinologically-minded scholars were all academics in their later lives, if not earlier: Heinrich Hackmann (1864–1935), Alfred Forke (1867–1944), Fung Yu-lan (Feng Youlan 馮友蘭, 1895–1990) and Joseph Needham (1900–1995). Though Graf did not explicitly clarify the interpretive import of these commitments, what had been transformed by these interpretive orientations was a shift from reliance on studies produced by early modern and pre-­ WWII missionary-scholars toward a generally secularized hermeneutic orientation of early twentieth century academic studies of Zhu Xi by university-based sinologists. Their accounts of Zhu Xi and the “Neo-Confucianism” they studied and assessed were shaped by critical historical and cultural methodologies as well as modern disciplinary boundaries that often (but not always) did not exist in traditional Chinese studies. From the title of the whole volume a new account of Zhu Xi’s worldview is offered: Tao (Dao) and Jen (Ren): Sein und Sollen im sungchinesischen Monismus. In terms of the breadth of its intra-cultural and cross-cultural metaphysical, religious, and philosophical discussions—even though Graf relied exclusively on secondary sinological, European and Anglophone studies in the latter major portion of his monograph in order to make his arguments and underscore his basic claims— Tao und Jen was truly an unprecedented and adventurous philosophical effort. Nevertheless, Graf never directly read or analyzed any other original texts in Chinese or the European languages that he employed in his comparative studies. As one works through the whole text, one can be shocked by some overgeneralizations that appear, even though on the whole many significant parallels and a few contrasts between key figures, their works, and major movements in Mediterranean/ European and Chinese imperial contexts are also found. For example, one demurs at the following summary judgment (translated by this author from the German original): “Plato’s Agathon [“the Good’] is Zhu Xi’s jen [ren 仁]!” (Graf 1970: 251). It also seems highly problematic to suggest that the Aquinian virtues of religio and pietas are equivalent to ren and yi 義 in Zhu Xi’s accounts (Graf 1970: 336). Such problematic comparisons require much more systematic study in Greek and Latin original sources than Graf provides, and suggests places where further work could still be done.

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4.3 The Hong Kong Anglican Canon Priest, Simon Ho Sai-Ming Born during the year of the 1911 Revolution, He Shiming 何世明 (Cantonese Ho Sai-ming, 1911–1996) was a Cantonese speaking Chinese student trained both in modern public schools as well as at home tutorials in traditional Ruist literature and Christian biblical studies. Later in the instable political context of the 1930s he attended Zhongshan University in Guangzhou, earning his undergraduate degree in English literature (Leung and Chu 2012: 3–4). Leaving the Chinese mainland for other countries during WWII, he settled with his family in Hong Kong in 1946, and remained there for the rest of his life. His Christian orientation linked him during most of his adult life to Chinese Christians from Presbyterian and Baptist traditions, so that he was teaching in the Hong Kong Baptist College for some time before his retirement. Notably, he was only ordained as an Anglican priest in 1957 (Leung and Chu 2012: 5), when he was 46 years old, and took on commitments to live according to religious disciplines—and so a “canon priest”—that included a life-long interest in seeking to provide an intellectual and spiritual foundation for what he referred to as Rongguan shenxue 融貫神學, what could be described as a thorough-­ going Protestant expression of Chinese theology selectively synthesized with multi-­ dimensional Ruist and some ancient Daoist teachings (Leung and Chu 2012: 12–15). Among the more than 30 volumes that have been published in a series of handbook-­sized volumes related to the Rev. Ho’s lectures and essays, about half of those volumes within his collected works deal with his concerns related to developing an authentic Chinese theology (guoxuehua de shenxue 國學化的神學) and an insightful Christian-inspired form of Chinese studies (shenxuehua de guoxue 神學 化的國學) (Leung and Chu 2012: 11, 23). In relation to the later dimension of his rongguan methodology—an intellectual process moving through mutual understanding toward a critically received set of Ruist traditions confirmed and fulfilled by means of Christian special revelation—the Rev. Ho in some ways steps beyond his own Anglican convictions by insisting that only biblical texts, especially those drawn from the New Testament, can provide a culturally transformative “way” / dao to guide the synthetic movement toward a Christian-inspired form of Chinese studies. While Anglican traditions of orthopraxy and worship have certainly produced numerous theological works of note, the Rev. Ho is willing to eschew them all for an exclusive biblical (and primarily New Testament) focus (Ho 1986: 111), to the point that one might indicate that there is a distorted “Biblicism” at work here (Leung and Chu 2012: 16). In this light, it is worth asking whether his preference for taking the Kong-Meng traditions as the mainstay of Ruist traditions is in fact a parallel way of viewing Ruism, a kind of “Kong-Meng-ism” working in similar ways to the Rev. Ho’s “Biblicism.” Since the Rev. Ho’s writings are presented in an informed but popular mode, rather than a scholarly and technical mode, this intellectual search for consistency within his works are sometimes frustrated by changes in his principled positions and the content of his discussions.

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So, then, how did the Rev. Ho address matters related to Zhu Xi’s works and philosophical claims? On the one hand, he rarely did so in any direct manner, in spite of writing numerous books about various themes in “Ruism and Christianity.” This came about primarily because his preferred form of religio-cultural synthesis was one that was grounded on biblical (and Chinese expressions of) Christian teachings as the dao “above forms” (xingershang 形而上, citing a passage from the commentary to the Yijing 易經), and Ruist teachings including those of Zhu Xi were employed to elaborate those Christian teachings as the means (qi 器 and yong 用) that is expressed “within forms” (xingerxia 形而下, Ho 1986: 110–11). While arguing that there were critical points of disjuncture that could not be acceptable to his rongguan theological perspective within Zhu Xi’s teachings, he also specified particular doctrines that could be integrated within it (Ho 1986: 89–103, 109–18), while clearly preferring to Zhu Xi’s rationalistic interpretations a methodology reliant on a more intuitive approach that he located in Wang Yangming’s teachings (Ho 1986: 104–9, 119–44). Here the details regarding both aspects of Zhu Xi’s teachings are important, and are written out only within one volume published in 1986 when he was 75 years old. The Rev. Ho addressed two major problems that he identified within Zhu Xi’s philosophical system. First of all, he argued that Zhu Xi’s own systematic approach to the cosmos and human cultivation links together features of the ontic realm with the sources of deep reality, creating what he called a “natural philosophy” (ziran zhexue 自然哲學) that had nothing explicit to do with what Christian intellectuals refer to as “natural theology” (ziran shenxue 自然神學). That is to say, from the rev. Ho’s perspective, Zhu Xi rarely offered any affirmation of the reality of a personal God from within his reflections on the nature of reality. Consequently, Zhu Xi’s philosophical system tended toward affirming a rationalized secular vision of both prime reality and human nature, both of which the Rev. Ho found to be unsuitable from his Protestant perspective (Ho 1986: 102–3, 110, 112). The second problem within Zhu Xi’s metaphysics that the Rev. Ho explicitly mentioned was also inherent within Zhu Xi’s systematic approach: Zhu’s account of the nature of li 理 (principle/pattern) is that it is inherently passive, but the Rev. Ho finds this problematic in providing any cosmic or ontological account of persons—whether divine or human—that have an active will, express themselves by means of creative intellects, and manifest forms of moral courage that energize transformative actions within reality (Ho 1986: 113). According to his assessment, Zhu Xi’s philosophical system would have to be qualified by a vital theism that included a creative metaphysical power in order to offer a more suitable account of prime reality and its connections with divine and human persons.

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4.4 The Portuguese Jesuit Translator, Joaquim Angélico de Jesus Guerra The only twentieth century Christian intellectual who continued in the line of the great missionary-scholar translators of Ruist canonical literature, and so by that means necessarily encountered the impact of Zhu Xi’s interpretations and reorganization of those texts, was a Portuguese Jesuit missionary, theologian, and translator who spent nearly half of his life in Macau and Guangdong province, Joaquim Angélico de Jesus Guerra 戈振東 (1909–1993) (Pfister 2015a: 25). His efforts in rendering the “Chinese Classics” of the Ruist tradition from Chinese into a foreign language—in his case, Portuguese—put him into a rare class of diligent translators, all being missionary-scholars, who produced this vast amount of classical Ruist literature into one or more target languages (Pfister 2015a: 41): James Legge (1815–1897) in English, Angelo Zottoli (1826–1904) in archaic Latin, Séraphin Couvreur (1835–1919) in both contemporary church Latin and French, and Richard Wilhelm (1873–1930) in German. What marks off Guerra’s efforts in this realm are various factors (Pfister 2015a: 26–31): first, his choice to use a language that was not considered to be a major international language within the late twentieth century; secondly, his preference for honoring Master Kong (“Confúcio”) rather than other Ruist masters and scholars; and finally, his self-conscious effort to employ a post-Vatican II theological approach to alternative religious and cultural traditions in order to distinguish his own translations and interpretations from those of his Jesuit and other missionary-scholar predecessors. Precisely in these ways the feisty Portuguese Jesuit can be described as “working in a post-traditional Chinese context as a Post-Vatican II advocate of a traditionalist assessment of the ancient Ruist traditions as a whole, and Master Kong (‘Confúcio’) in particular” (Pfister 2015a: 30). Hints that Guerra had a very different approach to Zhu Xi’s corpus appear directly in his choice to produce a “Four Books” (Quatro-Livros) (Guerra 1984b: 42) that did not follow Zhu Xi’s standard. He replaced the Mengzi with The Book of Reverence to Elders (Xiaojing 孝經) (Guerra 1984a), and renamed the union of those four tomes as “The Four Volumes of Confucius” (Quadrivolume de Confúcio). Subsequently, in the same year he published the Mengzi in a separate volume (Guerra 1984b). In his relatively lengthy introductory notes to each volume, he underscored how most of those previous to himself—including especially Legge, Couvreur, and Zottoli—had been influenced significantly in their various translations of the texts denominated by Zhu Xi as the Four Books, so that “the presence of Tjur-Xe [Zhu Xi]” was constantly seen or discerned (Guerra 1984a: 60–64). As a consequence, Guerra noted many times in his annotations to his renderings where either Legge and Couvreur (in particular) followed Zhu Xi’s commentaries, diverted from them to one degree or another, and whether (in any case) he agreed or disagreed with Zhu Xi’s authorized commentaries. While all of this could be noted in detail, the most significant interpretation of Zhu Xi and his works that Guerra highlighted was with a light very different than most of his Jesuit predecessors, except

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for Léon Wieger, and the vast majority of other Christian intellectuals engaged in studies of Zhu Xi. Guerra recognized Zhu Xi as one who seemed to be “a prophet of Confucian orthodoxy,” and was its “principle exponent” as well as its “co-founder” (Guerra 1984b: 16–17; see also Guerra 1984a: 673), being taken by many to be “a major pioneer” in the “School of Neo-Confucianism” (Guerra 1984b: 41–42) and “the incontestable Corypheus of Neo-Confucianism” (Guerra 1984a: 664–65). His writing style was “fluent and clear,” so that he became the main proponent of the “New School” of Ruism (Guerra 1984a: 662), one who was generally admired and venerated by many in his own day (Guerra 1984a: 666). Over the centuries Zhu Xi’s status grew to the point that Guerra cites his Jesuit predecessor, Le Gall, in summarizing Zhu Xi’s influence as being second only to Master Kong (Confucius) (Guerra 1984a: 661). Still, having documented all these praises of this seminal Song Ruist scholar, Guerra goes on to claim poignantly that Zhu Xi is “a sinister star” possessing a “pernicious influence” within the subsequent history of Ruism (Guerra 1984a: 64, 677 respectively), considering him to be the “second great heretic” of Ruism, next to the “first great heretic,” who was “Seontsi” [Xunzi 荀子] (Guerra 1984b: 17). Startling as this sounds, Guerra offers an extensive historical account and critical evaluation of Zhu Xi’s life and works to justify these harsh claims, appearing as part of his introduction to the text of The Great Learning (Guerra 1984a: 656–71, 674–77). Having noted how Zhu Xi had reorganized the text of the Daxue in a manner that was radically different from what had been provided in the “old edition” that stood as a chapter in The Record of Rites, Guerra quotes from Zhu Xi’s preface to the Daxue, and then argues that in fact by that means he had only brought greater confusion to that seminal classic text (Guerra 1984a: 657). To offer further justification of these claims, he cites the extensive criticisms of Zhu Xi’s “fanatical” reconstruction of the Daxue published by the Ming Ruist, Wang Yangming [“Wão Yão Meq”] and the Qing Ruist, Mao Qiling 毛奇齡 [“Maov Ge−leq,” also known as Mao Xihe 毛 西河, “Maov Sej-hao”] (Guerra 1984a: 657–58, 667, 674–75). This is to say, Zhu Xi’s positions were not incontrovertible, and there were some good textual and interpretive reasons noted by significant Ruist scholars in later centuries to challenge his textual emendations and interpretations. A second reason why Guerra took up such a strong antagonism to Zhu Xi’s canonical interpretations had less to do with the Daxue than with the general cultural trends of his predecessors and his own works in adapting many ideas from Buddhist and Daoist traditions (Guerra 1984a: 659, 661, 664). Guerra took this to be a distortion of the original teachings of Master Kong, a corruption of the spirit of Ruism that earned Zhu Xi the title of being “a heretical reformer of Confucianism,” one who actually promoted an “Anti-Confucianism” that masqueraded as “Neo-­ Confucianism” (Guerra 1984a: 665). His final condemnation of Zhu Xi’s claims is a straightforward rejection of the Song Ruist’s worldview. Guerra cites passages from Zhu Xi’s writings and Categorical Sayings to indicate that he had no commitment to a theistic worldview (Guerra 1984a: 667–70), but to the contrary, promoted a worldview that was

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“­ materialistic” and “deterministic” (Guerra 1984a: 659, 665, 667–68), following claims made by his Jesuit predecessors, Le Gall and Wieger. For Guerra, who wanted to promote a new religious reawakening in the period just following the excesses of the “Great Cultural Revolution” (1966–1976), the non-theistic worldview that he associated with Zhu Xi was an anathema. Why Guerra also took his worldview to be both materialistic and deterministic is never explained or justified in any detail, and so these severe criticisms would require much more elaboration from Guerra if they were to be taken as seriously as he would want them to be. Perhaps it is ironic that in his Post-Vatican II expression of a Ruist traditionalist worldview, Guerra was actually following the trends of twentieth century Chinese Protestant intellectuals in focusing on the vitality of the teachings of Master Kong, and raising up the ancient sage as a “saint” worthy of veneration internationally (Pfister 2015a: 31). What has been demonstrated above is that Guerra took an extremely strong antagonistic stand against Zhu Xi’s teachings and writings, something that he clearly understood to be consistent with the positions of Matteo Ricci and first major Roman Catholic Ruist convert, Xu Guangqi (Guerra 1984a: 674–75). Yet even this claim must be seen as controversial, and heightened in its controversial status by Guerra’s irascible personality and polemical writing style.

4.5 The Roman Catholic Arch-Bishop in Taiwan, Stanislaus Lo Kuang (Luo Guang) The most high-ranking Roman Catholic intellectual who produced the largest amount of scholarship related to Zhu Xi among Post-WWII Christian intellectuals was the archbishop and prolific theological-philosopher, Stanislaus Lo Kuang 羅光 (1911–2004). Notably, his association with the re-established Fu Jen University 輔 仁大學 in Taipei is undeniably significant. Both Graf and Lo wrote voluminously about many aspects of Zhu Xi’s works, and though there are likenesses in what they produced, especially in the historical comparative mode of paralleling what Zhu Xi published with the systematic theological-philosophical corpus of Thomas Aquinas, their motivations and ultimately also their output were significantly different. With regard to academic credentials among the various kinds of Chinese Christian intellectuals identified in this study, Lo Kuang is unrivalled in having obtained three doctoral degrees in philosophy, canon law, and theology, from extensive studies pursued in Rome, and then subsequently served as the president of Fu Jen University for more than a dozen years (from 1978 to 1992) (Pan H. 2016: 97–99). During this period he also served as the archbishop (zongzhujiao 總主教) of Taipei, a position of authority within international Roman Catholic structures that was simultaneously a politically-loaded problem that prevented him from having direct contact with Chinese intellectuals from the PRC for the vast majority of his life. Nevertheless, having published nearly 70 volumes of works produced mostly in Chinese and primarily pursuing studies in the areas of Chinese philosophy and its history, European

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and Chinese Scholastic philosophy and their histories (including his creative contributions to the Taiwanese Neo-scholasticism (Taiwan Xinshilin zhexue 臺灣新士林 哲學), and Roman Catholic theology (Pan H. 2015), his works have received significant attention in Taiwanese Roman Catholic philosophical circles and even some recent attention from mainland Chinese philosophers (Wu 2010; Wang 2015; Liao 2017). So, when the first international conference on Zhu Xi studies took place in Honolulu in 1982, President Lo was invited, attended, lectured, and gave his own reflective assessment of the whole event subsequently (Luo 1982, 1983: 421–27). Undoubtedly, then, his philosophical and theological concerns related to Zhu Xi’s corpus and philosophical system are of great interest. Lo was obviously working with very different philosophical motivations than those that animated the Benedictine missionary-scholar in Japan, Olaf Graf. In fact, Lo Kuang’s varying approaches to Zhu Xi studies depended on whether he was writing with purposes that related to summaries of the history of Chinese philosophy, general reflections on human experience under the rubric of rensheng zhexue 人生哲學 (“life philosophy,” or more directly, “philosophy of human life”), or specific ways that he critically reinvested certain claims within Zhu Xi’s corpus within different aspects of New Scholasticism. The most direct and recent study of Lo Kuang’s published works dealing with Zhu Xi’s corpus regularly refers to how these various aspects of the Chinese Roman Catholic archbishop’s writings are “interlinked” (jiaocuo 交錯), even though the majority of his writings related to Zhu Xi’s works employ historical methodologies rather than philosophical or theological approaches (Wang 2015: 92–95). Perhaps one of the better ways to approach Lo Kuang’s interpretations of Zhu Xi’s claims, particularly as they confirmed, added to, and required supplementary support from Thomist scholastic philosophy, is to describe and evaluate what he wrote for the 1982 international conference on Zhu Xi studies held in Honolulu (Luo 1982). Ironically, the one major work in Chinese that does focus on Lo Kuang’s account of Zhu Xi studies (Wang 2015), does not apparently know of that major essay. Yet this essay portrays much about Lo Kuang’s Roman Catholic Neo-­ Scholastic philosophical account of Zhu Xi’s major contributions as well as his philosophical shortcomings, so it is particularly worth considering. The published version of Lo Kuang’s presentation in Honolulu in 1982 includes a Chinese version of the paper (Luo 1982: C1–28) with an appendix promoting the emphatic affirmation of the value of human life in concept of life (shengming guannian 生命觀念) in the writings of Xiong Shili 熊十力 (also Hsiung Shih-li, 1885–1968), Fang Dongmei 方東美 (also Thomé H. Fang, 1899–1977) and Tang Junyi 唐君毅 (also T’ang Chün-I 1909–1978), an emphasis within Chinese philosophical circles which the archbishop also supported (Luo 1982: C29–36). Following that version of the paper, an English translation of the main presentation without the appendix was presented under the name “Stanislaus Lokuang” (Luo 1982: E1–43). Both versions will be referred to in what follows. From the table of contents for both versions as well as from the relatively short conclusion to the article (Luo 1982: C27–28/E41–43), this piece seemingly is a descriptive work arguing that Zhu Xi linked together his cosmological and moral

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claims in a manner that set up a “metaphysical foundation” (xingshang jichu 形上 基礎) for humans’ moral life. This clearly anticipated what Mou Zongsan 牟宗三 (also Mou Tsung-san, 1909–1995) would promote as “moral metaphysics” (daode xingershangxue 道德形而上學) within his own modern Ruist writings, but was developed by Lo Kuang especially in this piece from a focused attention on Zhu Xi’s works, mentioning a wide range of quoted materials that included the Song Ruist’s commentaries to The Yijing, The Four Books, and numerous elaborations from his Categorized Sayings (Zhuzi Yulei 朱子語類). Nevertheless, throughout the main body of the paper Lo Kuang regularly compared and analyzed Zhu Xi’s claims in their relationship to the philosophical positions of Aristotle and “St. Thomas Aquinas” (indicating by this form of reference his reverence for that late medieval Italian Dominican as a Roman Catholic saint as well as a theologian and philosopher, along lines promoted by Pope Pius X). Within those analyses Lo sought to highlight both points of significant overlap and conceptual distinction that indicated where further critical assessments from a Thomist viewpoint could be raised, and in fact often were offered within the article briefly and poignantly. From an internal comparative philosophical perspective within this seminal paper related to different Song dynasty Ruist philosophers’ positions in relationship to Zhu Xi’s interpretations, two major points should be addressed and elaborated. First of all, Lo argues that there is a significant tension created by Zhu Xi’s dualistic tendencies, so that the doctrine he adopts from Zhang Zai’s Western Inscription 西 銘 as li yi fen shu 理一分殊 (“the principle/pattern is singular, but its manifestations are diverse”), and from Cheng Yi 程頤 (1033–1107) as li yi er shu 理一而殊 (“the principle/pattern is singular, but diversified”) requires him to develop a strong position that there can ultimately only be one principle/pattern (Luo 1982: C8/E13 and C14/E20). Nevertheless, this leads to the problem of explaining the diversification of ontic beings, a matter Zhu Xi resolves by reference to the different degrees of purity and coarseness in the vital energy possessed by each thing (Luo 1982: C15–16/E22–24). Whether this dualistic-tending explanation can provide a satisfactory justification for Zhu’s metaphysical commitments remains an issue Lo Kuang suggests cannot be easily resolved within Zhu’s own philosophical system (as developed in Wang 2015: 100–104). Secondly, Lo Kuang argues that Zhu Xi’s conception of taiji 太極 (the “Great Ultimate” or “Supreme Ultimate”) is too passive, being described as only principle/ pattern, and not a dynamic and productive force as in his Song Ruist predecessor Zhou Dunyi’s 周敦頤 (1017–1073) writings (Luo 1982: C18/E27). In this case he criticizes the interpretive position of Feng Youlan 馮友蘭 (1895–1990), who was also at the conference in Honolulu at that time, that Zhu Xi’s conception of the taiji was distinct from the normal principle-pattern. For Lo, this is not possible within Zhu Xi’s system, because the principle-pattern had to be singular within his worldview (Luo 1982: C14–15/E21–22). As will be seen later on, this concern reflected a problem related to the ultimate nature of reality for Lo, and so was central also to one of his major criticisms of Zhu Xi’s metaphysical position.

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Three insights that are arrived at through more detailed discussions in Lo Kuang’s article should be noted; sometimes they are not elaborated to an extent that might have been more preferable for a monograph than in a shorter article, but they still underscore important points that he felt needed to be highlighted. One of the more briefly noted points that bears out a significant insight is the claim that what Zhu Xi discussed in terms of principle/pattern (li) and vital energy (qi) actually belonged to “Western” discussions of cosmology, and not to what would be more strictly related to ontology (Luo 1982: C10–11/E15). The point made here is not that Zhu Xi had no metaphysical interests, but that he employed metaphysical concepts to emphasize their cosmological and cosmogenic functions, rather than to explore what Lo Kuang recognized in Aristotelian terms was the discussion of the nature of “Being.” If this perspective is seen as justified, then Lo Kuang’s claims that there are ways to supplement Song Ruist worldview discussions with Christian-inspired philosophical metaphysics would carry more weight and also be seen as reasonable (Wang 2015: 100–104; Liao 2017). Another important philosophical insight that challenges any simple comparison between Zhu Xi’s and Aquinas’ metaphysical systems is that vital energy or qi, though certainly involved in the generation of sentient and non-sentient beings, is not limited to the explanations involved in understanding the nature of material things. In this light, then, it is inherently part of the discussion of the substance of anything, and so it must also be included in what is metaphysical, and, perhaps ironically for Zhu Xi and other Ruist scholars who follow his dualistic-tending metaphysics, part of what is discussed as belonging to xingshang (as well as xingxia). Put in other words, there is no simple parallel or identity between the nature and relationship of forma and materia and that of li and qi (Luo 1982: C11/ E16 and C12/E18). That more reductionistic claim leads to many other problems that Lo Kuang wanted to avoid, but has not always been understood or appreciated by philosophers who work in Ruist-European or so-called “Chinese–Western” comparative philosophical studies. An even more complicated set of concerns are bound up in Zhu Xi’s account of cosmogeny, especially within the discussions of the first sentence of The Explanations of the Diagram of the Supreme Ultimate (Taijitu Shuo 太極圖說): “wuji er taiji 無極而太極.” Part of the complexity involved here is whether wuji is prior to and the origin of taiji, explaining by means of that ambiguous connective term, er 而, a cosmological relationship that would qualify the taiji as both “supreme” but not “the highest” or “the origin” of the cosmos. On the one hand, Lo argues that Zhu Xi does not have a conception of an “absolute action” or “actus purus” that sovereignly and creatively engaged the cosmological order (Luo 1982: C/E16). This is a critical element within Lo’s own worldview, one not so clearly worked out in secondary literature (Wang 2015: 104; Liao 2017: 89–92), because it is not understood by some that the supreme deity in Aquinas’ philosophy was described as “pure activity.” This being so, to have a concept of something “supreme” that is essentially passive and inactive because it is inherently constituted as the principle/pattern (li) of things points to a metaphysical quandary that cannot be solved even by having some other kind of deity (such as tian 天 in Zhu Xi’s

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­ etaphysical system [see Zhong 2014]). This interpretive tension is heightened by m the fact that Lo renders the key phrase seen above as “The Ultimate of Non-Being begot the Supreme Ultimate” (Luo 1982: C/E27). Here there appears to be a Christian twist to the Song Ruist cosmogeny that distorts the phrase both in how the connective particle er is rendered, as well as in the basic way to understand the relationship between wu 無 and you 有 (Luo 1982: C/E3). On the one hand, Lo’s specific use of the old English term “begot” suggests a presumed creatio ex nihilo influence within his rendering of that phrase, one that seems forced and questionable; on the other hand, his portrayal of wu as “non-being” points to an ancient Mediterranean and later European philosophical conception of “nothingness” that may not properly portray what Zhu Xi intended by the concept of wuji. So, while there are some important questions that can be raised regarding Lo’s presentation of these matters related to the nature of taiji, his discussion points to some important systematic questions within Zhu Xi’s metaphysical system that he as a Roman Catholic New Scholastic philosopher discerned were highly problematic. Another issue requiring conceptual clarification has to deal with analogies that can be drawn from the statement that the shengren 聖人 (which Lo Kuang always translates as “the saint” or “saints”) as a large root or “great origin” (daben 大本) for many principles (daoli 道理) (Luo 1982: C24/E35–36). Here Zhu Xi is clearly setting up a hierarchy of humans and knowledge for which the sage serves as a cultural reservoir of immense proportions, a function that Zhu Xi believed his Ruist predecessors served for more than two millennia previously. If there can be such a civilizational origin particularly for whole person cultivation and the nurture of the myriad things, why should there not be a cosmic or ontological origin as well? It would seem that this kind of intuitive induction from human experience into cosmic and ontological orders is very much behind much of Lo Kuang’s philosophical explorations within this article and across the many decades of his prolific work. The most pronounced (and for some, the most egregious) renderings that suggest there is a specifically Roman Catholic pre-judgment at work within Lo’s consciousness is his inconsistent English renderings for the virtue of humane cultivation (ren 仁). In the vast majority of cases, the noun is rendered as “charity” (as found pervasively in Luo 1982: C20–27/E31–40), and only occasionally as “humanity” (Luo 1982: C19–20/E30–31, C26–27/E39–40), both having their roots in the Latin virtues of charitas (the Latin equivalent for agape love in koiné Greek) and humanitas (suggesting “humaneness”). Once again there is a recognition of a parallel located sixty years earlier in the English renderings of the British Baptist missionary-­ scholar, J. Percy Bruce, who translated the term as “Love.” Yet here there is a subtlety in Lo Kuang’s English phrasing, because he reserves the term “love” only for the character ai 愛, making it possible for him to render Zhu Xi’s claim that “charity is the principle of love” (ren wei ai zhi li 仁為愛之理) (Luo 1982: C23/E33), while Bruce distinguished the former as “the emotion” and the latter as “the disposition” of love (Bruce 1922: 312). Nevertheless, exactly what this phrase would mean within Lo Kuang’s own modern New Scholastic philosophy remains a serious inquiry, but he does not offer any further elaboration.

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The implication that Lo Kuang has aligned various aspects of Zhu Xi’s writings to his New Scholastic Christian philosophical orientation by means of a method of “generous translation”—or what some secularistic philosophers would insist is an unjustified cultural imposition of his Christian worldview within Zhu Xi’s 700 year old texts—raises up as an issue nurturing a hermeneutic skepticism regarding his basic understanding of Zhu Xi’s claims in those realms. Here again, details about the specific renderings and reminders about Lo Kuang’s primary concern to produce a Chinese Roman Catholic New Scholastic philosophical system need to be considered, because the suggestions portrayed in his English renderings that are directly related to his Chinese original suggest that Lo Kuang was undoubtedly reading the Chinese texts of Zhu Xi from within his New Scholastic philosophical and theological orientation. From this account of Lo Kuang’s 1982 presentation on Zhu Xi’s metaphysical structure it is possible to characterize summarily a number of his other works that developed themes related to different aspects of Zhu Xi’s philosophical system. The complicated nature of Lo Kuang’s approach to Zhu Xi’s various philosophical claims have been revealed by others from different angles (Pan H. 2015; Wang 2015), but more can be explained and clarified about the way Lo has interlinked and reconceived some of Zhu Xi’s perspectives. Put in other words, Lo Kuang relied on Zhu Xi’s philosophical writings to garnish his Song Ruist insights into the nature of reality and the development of moral character in order to construct a new expression of Thomist philosophy for contemporary Chinese Roman Catholic communities and anyone else in Chinese cultural contexts who would be willing to consider them. It is important to note that Lo Kuang’s affirmations of Ruist traditions was selective, a fact that is rarely underscored in secondary literature. For example, in his later works on Ruist life philosophy and the metaphysical underpinnings of his own Chinese expression of New Scholastic life philosophy, Lo Kuang regularly dealt with Masters Kong and Meng, and then Han dynasty Ruists, and subsequently those involved with the Principle-centered Learning (lixue) School, including at the end of this historical sequence reflections on the works of Wang Chuanshan 王船山 (1619–1692), also known as Wang Fuzhi 王夫之 (for example, see Luo 1995: 83–100, 149–66; 2001: 27–34, 99–101, 128–34). Why did Lo Kuang so systematically avoid the works and teachings of those associated with Zhu Xi’s main rival tradition, the Heart-centered Learning (xinxue 心學) School? On reviewing the systematic and rationalized philosophical training that he received when studying Thomistic Scholastic traditions, Lo Kuang undoubtedly had a rational orientation that would appreciate Zhu Xi’s systematic reconstructions and rational analyses, rejecting what may be seen as a more intuitive and less systematic presentation of ideas, whether in writings or in dialogues, by those such as Wang Yangming 王陽 明 (1472–1529). From another perspective, it is important to emphasize the innovative nature of Lo Kuang’s philosophical interests: his concern was not simply to repeat and elaborate former positions, but to integrate them into a Roman Catholic vision of reality. For example, the five facets of his intellectual/spiritual cultivation (Pan H. 2015:

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67) are summarized as (1) “setting the heart-mind right and committing the will” (zhengxin lizhi 正心立志), (2) “maintaining reverence with the Lord as one” (shoujing zhuyi 守敬主一); (3) “purifying the heart-mind and lessening desires” (jingxin guayu 淨心寡慾); (4) “possessing an authentic and sincere heart-mind before the Lord” (chengxin dui zhu 誠心對主); and (5) “strengthening oneself unceasingly” (ziqiang buxi 自強不息). Within these five facets or steps of intellectual/spiritual cultivation there are phrases drawn from the classical text of the Daxue 大學 that were also promoted by Zhu Xi, including zhengxin and chengxin; other phrases resonate with Zhu Xi’s own regulations for whole person cultivation, especially shoujing, but also jingxin and guayu. Though the second and fourth steps clearly identify “the Lord” as the focus of those steps, there is no further discussion of sanctification or the role of the Holy Spirit as would normally be expected in any general Christian theological discussions of these matters. One can imagine that Zhu Xi’s own semi-ascetic lifestyle also paralleled many aspects of the forms of spiritual formation that Lo Kuang had adopted as a Roman Catholic priest.

4.6 The Canadian Roman Catholic Historian and Sinologist, Julia Ching In approaching the work related to Zhu Xi that was produced by the Chinese Canadian scholar at the University of Toronto, Julia Ching 秦家懿 (1934–2001), we face a person who stands out as unusual in many facets of her life and work. Notably, she is the only female Christian scholar identified among those discussed here, a reality that was very prominent in her own self-consciousness due to her extensive work and achievements in a male-dominated international academic setting, particularly in the realm of Asian studies, as elaborated in her autobiography (Ching 1998). Her life has been shaped profoundly by geographical, political, religious, physical, and academic transitions (Pan F. 2013): born in Shanghai, she fled to Taiwan with family members in the late 1940s when she was in her early teens, and did not return to mainland China until 1979. Joining the Ursuline Order of Roman Catholic nuns before she was 20 years old, she spent two decades as a practicing nun, and then left the order, was married, and took up a stellar academic career. Three times she battled with cancer and its threats, first when 28 years old, then again ten years later, and subsequently in the illness that ended her life. Though she took academic training in “Asian studies,” working on Chinese figures of note, her academic work has regularly straddled methodologies and topics that fit into religious, philosophical, and historico-cultural disciplines. Additionally, distinctive is the fact that having lived in Chinese and English, she later learned French, German, and Japanese languages in order to advance her spheres of academic access (Pan F. 2013: 221–22). Due to all these factors in her life, she was honored in 1994 as a “university professor” at the University of Toronto (Pan F. 2013: 223), meaning not only that she was an exemplary scholar, but also that she was understood to employ

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an inter-disciplinary approach to her fields of expertise in Song through early Qing dynasty (10th—17th centuries) historical spheres. Unlike many Roman Catholic intellectuals and scholars that have been reviewed already, she took a vital interest in the Ming Ruist, Wang Yangming, and produced a Ph.D. dissertation for the Australian National University as well as books in English and Chinese on his life and works (Pan F. 2013: 210–11, 222). While many of her very notable monographs deal with matters related to religious themes (Ching 1978, 1993), she seldom dealt with Zhu Xi’s undeniable cultural impact, producing her single volume on his religious interests the year before she passed away (Ching 2000). Only in her volume on Chinese Religions did she address certain themes in Zhu Xi’s corpus, making evocative comparisons of his methodology, worldview, and synthetic coverage with the works of Nicolas of Cusa, Alfred North Whitehead, and Paul Tillich (Ching 1993: 158–60). Here again, it should be noted, she was standing against a long line of criticisms of Zhu Xi’s non-theistic worldview underscored by many Roman Catholic missionary-scholars and intellectuals before her, and standing instead more near to the relatively open, subtle, and creatively-worked out positions adopted by the British Baptist missionary-scholar, J. Percy Bruce, and the Taiwanese New Scholastic philosopher and priest, Lo Kuang. Certainly, then, her account of Zhu Xi’s “religious thought” in 2000 was the result of her own maturing ideas regarding his works and philosophical system. For all of these reasons, then, more details about this final published monograph by Ching will be provided below. First and foremost, it is important to recognize that the categorization of “religious thought” itself is a modern disciplinary rubric, and not something that was distinctly and self-consciously applied by Zhu Xi to his own readings and writings. What is relatively new about this approach—and paralleled to what has been noticed already in the works of J. Percy Bruce and Lo Kuang—is that it affirms the religious significance of all those realms of Zhu Xi’s philosophical system, that is, the metaphysical as well as the mundane. Notably, issues related to his approach to Daoism and Buddhism are included, but only in the later chapters (Ching 2000: 152–89). What this suggests, then, is that Ching is not merely employing a Christian theological standard for assessing Zhu Xi’s religious thought, but is also probing a wide range of issues related to a broader conception of “spirituality” as expressed religiously in both metaphysical and mundane realms. Further hints that these alternative standards are being employed are suggested within her third appendix, one exploring at some length a comparison of Zhu Xi’s and Whitehead’s conceptions of “God and the world,” a theme only briefly mentioned by her in 1993 (Ching 2000: 243–58). The fact that Ching also does not discuss virtue ethics as a primary mode of spiritual life places her approach to Zhu Xi in contrast to the approach of the venerable Lo Kuang. Instead, she insists on revisiting the troubled question of the nature of the taiji, and the problem of the metaphysical meaning of the first sentence of the Taijitu Shuo (the interpretive conflicts being elaborated in her second appendix [Ching 2000: 235–42]), arguing along lines that Bruce had taken up nearly eighty years earlier (though he is not mentioned in her work): that is, that there is a distinctive

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and subtle theistic trend to Zhu Xi’s thought that should not be overlooked. Beyond this, however, she moves quickly from the metaphysical to the rituals of worship and reverence, in order to explore the practical and cultural ways in which Zhu Xi expressed his religious orientation. This linking of metaphysics to ritual propriety is prompted by her methodological concerns drawn from religious studies, but has also become a theme of philosophical awareness in realms of philosophy of religion and philosophy of culture as an inherent part of spirituality. Ritual life includes sacrifices and worship, and for a good number of philosophers, they will be surprised to know how much Zhu Xi participated in acts of reverence that included worshipful rituals (Ching 2000: 72–90). Another facet of her approach to Zhu Xi’s “religious thought” is to highlight his claims in the light of his “philosophical disputes” with his contemporary, Lu Xiangshan (Lu Jiuyuan), the person considered to be the historical source of the xinxue tradition (Ching 2000: 132–151). Of course, this brings us back to the fact that her dissertation dealt thoroughly with Wang Yangming’s own version of xinxue, and so in this light, Ching employs that alternative vision of spirituality to highlight the special features of Zhu Xi’s own religious orientation. She even devotes a further chapter near the end of the book to Zhu’s critics (Ching 2000: 190–208), so that the delimitation of his own religious claims and actions can be qualified even further through the critical lens of those who found reasons to disagree with his approach. All of these features in her study of Zhu Xi’s “religious thought” underscore the unusual nature of her methodological concerns as she applies them to many topics that have previously been discussed at great length, and a few topics that have either been avoided, or have been used to challenge Zhu Xi’s spiritual relevance. Consequently, it is notable that her final chapter addresses specifically the “relevance” of Zhu Xi’s “religious thought” for persons in the beginning of the twenty-­ first century (Ching 2000: 209–29). Methodologically speaking, most of the 125 endnotes provided for this one chapter cite numerous original Chinese sources, the vast majority being those that Ching herself rendered into English (Ching 2000: 273–77). Within these endnotes there are cited works from 13 authors in English, 27 in Chinese, and 6 in Japanese, 9 works among all of those being cited more than three times. The most often cited text of Zhu Xi is his Categorized Sayings (Zhuzi Yulei), which is cited 67 times alone in this single chapter. Unlike many scholars who refer to Zhu Xi’s works, Ching also cites a number of poems and records of his and others’ ritual participation in order to reveal more about Zhu Xi’s “religious thought” (Ching 2000: 54, 56–57, 61, 62, 66–69, 71). What is doubly interesting about these references to rituals is that she devotes the next full chapter to discussion Zhu Xi’s interests in ritual propriety, so that this serves as a linkage to other chapters in the volume that manifest a thorough interconnectedness with related themes throughout her work. She does so as well with reference to discussions of human nature, personal cultivation, and his evaluation of Buddhist claims. Unquestionably, the scholarly effort involved in such work is impressive, and gives credence to the level of justification of her conclusions.

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Self-consciously she adopted an approach to the question of “spiritual beings” that did not follow Zhu Xi’s order in his Categorized Sayings, but employed a logical order influenced by her own religious studies background. To begin, she discussed three aspects of Zhu Xi’s conception of tian on the basis of three specific accounts of that term within Zhu’s writings, starting with the strictly physical reference to an environing Nature, and then moving to a religiously resonant term (“Lord and Master,” zhuzai 主宰), and finally developing his philosophical account in relationship to “Heavenly Principle” (tianli 天理) and “the Heavenly mind” (tianxin 天 心) (Ching 2000: 55–60). Subsequently, she discusses the general category of guishen in six subcategories, so that she can address among those topics whether or not Zhu Xi believed that they actually existed (Ching 2000: 61–63), how he rationalized their existence in metaphysical terms (Ching 2000: 64–66), and how he dealt with “spirit possession,” a topic she notes that the Cheng brothers considered to be a waste of time (Ching 2000: 68–69). While this approach may seem so complicated as to make the whole discussion too difficult to follow, in fact, Ching regularly provides at the end of each section a concluding assessment that reveals subtle distinctions and a balanced evaluation of relevant features, increasing one’s respect for her discernments. For example, she argues that Zhu Xi “is trying to avoid anthropomorphism while admitting a creator—a power and intention in Heaven that directs the creative forces of the universe”; this leads her to conclude that Zhu “falls back on a nonanthropomorphic, somewhat pantheistic explanation of Heaven as ruler and master” (Ching 2000: 58). With regard to the distinction of tianli and tianxin, she points out that Zhu Xi “prefers generally to speak of [tianli] in a supreme and ultimate sense[,] but uses tianxin whenever he wishes to underscore the all-embracing and dynamic creativity of Heaven.” Subsequently, she “suggests” that tianli “is a philosophical term representing Heaven qua Heaven, referring therefore to the great Li-in-itself that is manifest in [qi] as Heaven’s mind,” or tianxin (Ching 2000: 60). In order to show where Zhu Xi’s own efforts to clarify reach their rational limits at times, so that a response is considered to be “cryptic,” “ambiguous,” or so indirect as to not provide any positive answer, Ching also leaves readers with questions and issues that remain for Zhu Xi and those who seek to refine his systematic reflections (as seen in Ching 2000: 58–59, 62, 64, 67, 68, 70). Avoiding any simple account of his claims from all the sources she has at her disposal, Ching comes to a relatively interesting account of Zhu Xi’s philosophical acumen: he is “unable to be a complete rationalist because of his desire to accommodate ancient beliefs in the Lord-­ on-­High or Heaven, which he obviously respects and to which he gives serious reflective attention” (Ching 2000: 70–71). In this vein, then, Ching adopts methodologies that are more like Lo Kuang and J. Percy Bruce, but comes to conclusions that challenge the earlier claims of Le Gall and Olaf Graf, aligning her own interpretative conclusions unexpectedly more with the British Baptist missionary-­ scholar, Bruce, more than her Roman Catholic predecessors.

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5 Conclusion On the basis of materials published by Christian intellectuals starting in the seventeenth century and leading up to the period before WWII, I have reviewed a process of engagement across more than three centuries, involving missionary-scholars, modern sinologists, pastor-scholars, and philosophers. Over the centuries there was a gradually increasing awareness of the extent, complexity, and challenges of understanding various aspects of Zhu Xi’s worldview and metaphysics. Many among them came to convictions that his system was inherently atheistic, and some even argued that the obvious metaphysical elements were ultimately reduced into a monism or a more or less homogenous materialism. At least one, Wieger, rejected Zhu’s political conservativism as well, while others took his worldview claims to be either pantheistic or monistic. Before the initiation of WWII, a broader consensus was being built upon claims that Zhu Xi was ultimately monistic in orientation, had a very high standard for virtuous living and intellectual fulfillment, and asserted that human nature was perfectible. Most agreed that if there was any hint of theism, it would have to be teased out of his metaphors related to the meaning of tian that included a strong sense of sovereignty, but not all agreed that this was the case. Only in the latest of the works in the pre-WWII historical context, the two volumes produced by Bruce, was there also the indication that the highest virtue promoted by Zhu Xi could be largely confirmed by Christians worldwide as the parallel, if not equivalent, of Christian agapē or love. Taken from the broader ranges of historical coverage that the two parts of this essay have involved, the initial engagement with teachings of Zhu Xi by Jesuit missionary-scholars in the seventeenth century was unselfconscious of who the Song Ruist was and what the influence of his writings and teachings has been by that time in Chinese dynastic history. That situation changed dramatically in the nineteenth century, when foreign missionary-scholars form both Protestant and Roman Catholic missionary organizations located primarily in China provided translations of some of Zhu Xi’s writings, as well as some initial critical analyses of various aspects of Zhu Xi’s metaphysical and moral claims. Only by the end of the nineteenth century were monographic studies in European languages devoted to Zhu Xi produced in French and German, some by sinologically-trained scholars, and one set of volumes on Zhu Xi’s life and teachings produced in English during the early 1920s by the thoughtful British Baptist missionary-scholar, J. Percy Bruce. What had been produced up to the period before WWII, then, was a series of studies and a number of translations that included commentarial analyses related to Zhu Xi’s writings that gave educated readers both a general sense of Zhu Xi’s worldview and, in some cases, various scholarly accounts of the status of what would be counted at that time as his religious and philosophical claims. The situation following WWII changed significantly for Christian intellectuals who became interested in Zhu Xi, not only because of the traumatic political and bellicose events that influenced so much of the twentieth century, but also because writings in Chinese by Chinese Christian intellectuals could also be counted as

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contributing to the popular and scholarly understanding of Zhu Xi’s metaphysics, moral philosophy, practical philosophy, educational hermeneutics, ritual teachings and practices, as well as a renewed interest in the Ruist religious claims that could also be identified from within his vast corpus. Key contributions came in the production of the Jinsi lu in both German and English, the former produced by the Benedictine missionary-scholar in Japan, Olaf Graf (Graf 1953), and the scholarly renderings into European languages of many of Zhu Xi’s sayings. There were also technical discussions and philosophical assessments made by well-trained Christian philosophers and intellectuals, including volumes produced by Princeton S.  Hsü, Stanislas Lo Kuang, and Julia Ching. Along with access to Zhu Xi’s writings in other languages that was accessible to wider reading audiences in European and Anglophone contexts, there came a new set of perspectives drawn from Chinese intellectual and philosophical histories that added to critical perspectives applied to Zhu Xi’s life and writings, particularly among Chinese Protestant pastor-scholars such as Ho Sai-ming (Ho 1986) and Princeton Hsü (Hsü 1971), but also from a very different set of perspectives by the Portuguese Jesuit, Joaquim Guerra, and the Chinese Roman Catholic scholars such as Lo Kuang and Julia Ching. Here the questions that arose had to do with whether or not Zhu Xi’s worldview, his understanding of human nature, and his promotion of particular accounts of whole person cultivation, were amenable to and adaptable within various Christian accounts of sanctification and their practical expressions in different kinds of spiritual formation. Though there are voices of dissent that have not been explored in depth due to limits of space—especially the claims of the French Jesuit, Wieger (Wieger 1969) and those of the Portuguese Jesuit translator and missionary-scholar, Guerra (Guerra 1984a, b)—there were some substantial affirmations made by Lo Kuang, aligning the rational or even rationalistic philosophical reflections of Zhu Xi with his New Scholastic philosophy that was informed by both Aristotelian and Thomistic philosophical systems. Added to this diversity of interpretive positions, then, was the religious studies approach of Julia Ching, that sought to provide a new and more subtle account of a particular form of Ruist theism Zhu supported. As was elaborated above, Ching’s position paralleled the account provided eighty years earlier by J. Percy Bruce, but added suggestions that one of the ways to reveal the relevance of Zhu Xi studies is to align it with various doctrines promoted by Process Philosophy and Process Theology. Intriguingly, where twentieth century academic studies of Zhu Xi were deeply influenced by modernizing and secularizing trends in scholarship, there has been no strong and sustained voice in the twenty-first century opposing the de-secularlizing trends of Zhu Xi studies as found in Julia Ching’s and other contemporary Chinese Christian philosophers’ claims. Several matters that appear to remain issues for further philosophical studies could be highlighted at the end of this study. First, there are questions related to the dualistic-tending metaphysics of Zhu Xi’s worldview. How does his li–qi metaphysics align itself with modern scientific theories of the world and reality, particularly among Christian scientists who are involved in theoretical physics and the concerns generated by the inhumane features of a highly technological form of social life? Are Zhu Xi’s claims related to astronomy and the cosmos simply ­matters

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of being a “man of his own times,” as Julia Ching claims, or do they have any relevance for these facets of modern life that Christian intellectuals in Chinese contexts and elsewhere continue to engage? Some Christian intellectuals reviewed here above have argued that Zhu Xi’s metaphysics leads to many unresolvable problems, some of which he was aware, and may even be seen as detrimental to his philosophical system because they lead to outright contradictions. These claims justify those who take Zhu Xi’s philosophical system to task, partly because they are also concerned as Christian scholars to offer alternative philosophical systems of their own making, whether from the angle of an indigenized Chinese theology, or a Chinese Roman Catholic New Scholastic philosophical system, or from a process theology perspective. Another realm of Zhu Xi studies that may prove of interest to future scholarship by Christian philosophers and intellectuals could be categorized under the rubric of a philosophy of culture. Has Zhu Xi achieved a philosophical synthesis that reveals more about the needed cultural orientations of human beings in general? Are his moral claims and his ritual practices insightful for integrating into a modern twenty-­ first century vision of “Chinese culture”? These matters have appeared to be quite controversial among twentieth century Chinese scholars, and so may deserve further work in future explorations of his worldview. Though more questions could be raised here, a final issue that appears to remain seminal for Christian philosophers and intellectuals is the question of the nature of Zhu Xi’s religiousness. When we become self-conscious of the fact that what we in the twenty-first century refer to as “philosophy” and “religion” were not categories of thought that Zhu Xi applied to his own writings, it may be all the more appropriate to ask if a special Song Ruist form of theism might be amenable to a Christian vision of deity. For example, Mediterranean philosophers such as Plato and Aristotle had their own conceptions of a supreme being, but they were seen as conceptually helpful in articulating Christian understandings of the deity, even though they were not the same in content or justification. Could a similar way of approaching an indigenized expression of Christianity in Chinese contexts—whether Roman Catholic or Protestant—be worked out on the basis of approaching the nature of deity by means of reflections that have been initiated by Zhu Xi in some of his metaphysical reflections? Due to the limits of the translations of Zhu Xi’s corpus in non-Asian languages, there would be much to do in order to make his whole set of writings known to a European and/or Anglophone set of audiences. Much more of this sort has been done in Japanese and Korean languages, but due to my own linguistic limitations, I have not been able to identify Japanese or Korean Christian scholars who have also worked through Zhu Xi’s writings and produced other works reflecting their Christian interpretations of his claims. My suspicion is that they do exist, and my understanding of the developments of Korean Ruist traditions suggests to me that there may be much more in these realms than I have been able to identify and discuss in this essay.

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References Bruce, J. Percy, trans. and comm. 1922. The Philosophy of Human Nature (Hsing Li) by Chu Hsi. London: Probsthain and Company. (Based on studies of seven juan from Zhu Xi’s Complete Works [juan 42–48], this is a serious effort to present Zhu Xi’s position on human nature in the form of an annotated scholarly translation.) ———. 1923. Chu Hsi and His Masters: An Introduction to Chu Hsi and the Sung School of Chinese Philosophy. London: Probsthain and Company. (Nine of the fourteen chapters of this book deal directly with Zhu Xi. This volume provides historical, conceptual, philosophical and religious accounts of many aspects of his life and works.) Chan, Wing-tsit, trans. 1967. Chu Hsi: Reflections on Things at Hand, The Neo-Confucian Anthology. New York: Columbia University Press. (The first English translation of this early compendium of Song Ruist teachings by Zhu Xi). ———. 1976. “The Study of Chu Hsi in the West.” The Journal of Asian Studies 35.4(August 1976): 555–77. (A major study focusing on how Zhu Xi’s metaphysics, religiousness, scientific studies, philosophical positions, debates, and biographical details have been handled in translations and secondary studies of Zhu Xi’s works produced in French, German, Chinese, Japanese, and English, starting from the late 1840s and extending to the publication of the author’s own renderings in the 1960s). ———. 1986. Chu Hsi and Neo-Confucianism. Honolulu: University of Hawai’i Press. (A collection of new studies on Zhu Xi largely inspired by the 1982 international conference held in Honolulu). ———. 1989. Chu Hsi: New Studies. Honolulu: University of Hawai’i Press. (This is a new volume on various themes about Zhu Xi written by the author, a seasoned scholar in this realm.) Cheng, Chung-ying. 1991. New Dimensions of Confucian and Neo-Confucian Philosophy. Albany: State University of New  York Press. (A collection of essays dealing with themes involving Ruist teachings from more than 2000 years across its vast traditions, and approached from angles that reflect questions drawn from late 20th century philosophical disciplines). Ching, Julia. 1978. Confucianism and Christianity: A Comparative Study. Tokyo: Kodansha International. (Here the focus of discussion is on the early Jesuit mission as representatives of “Christianity,” with only occasional references to Zhu Xi, because details about “Confucianism” range across a much broader historical spectrum of writings and figures.) ———. 1993. Chinese Religions. Maryknoll: Orbis Books. (An original overview by this Chinese Roman Catholic intellectual, starting from ancient expressions to the late 20th century.) ———. 1998. The Butterfly Healing: A Life between East and West. New York: Maryknoll. (This is an autobiography published three years before the author’s death, recounting her life as a young girl escaping mainland China to Taiwan, taking up disciplines as an Ursuline nun for two decades, before establishing herself as a specialist in Song, Yuan, and Ming dynasties Chinese history and culture.) ———. 2000. The Religious Thought of Chu Hsi. Oxford: Oxford University Press. (A seminal study that carefully affirms the theistic and other spiritual dimensions of Zhu Xi’s worldview, contrasting them with Daoist and Chinese Buddhist claims, while also exploring comparisons with aspects of Whitehead’s metaphysics). Couvreur, Séraphin. 1895. Les Quatre Livres avec un commentaire abrégé en Chinois, une double traduction en Français et en Latin, et un vocabulaire des lettres et des noms propres. Ho Kien Fu: [Mission Imprimaire]. (These modern French and Latin translations rely heavily on Zhu Xi’s commentaries to the Four Books.) de Harley, Charles. 1888. “Zhuzi Jie Yaozuan 朱子節要纂 / Tsieh-Yao-Tchuen de Tchou-hi.” Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society 20.2: 219–271. (This Jesuit scholar provides the first modern French version of the preface to this work and selections from chapters 1, 6, 9, and 13 [dealing with metaphysical concepts, home rituals, governance, and false doctrines] from among the fourteen chapters of the original 17th century Chinese text.)

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———. 1889a. “Learning for Children, or Morality for Youth, with the Commentary by Chen Xuan/La Siao Hio, ou morale de jeunesse, avec le commentaire de Tschen-Siuen.” Annales du Musée Guimet 15. (The first modern French translation of the Elementary Learning, one of Zhu Xi’s noted textual creations). ———. 1889b. Jiali, Book of Chinese Domestic Rites of Zhu Xi/Ka-li, Livre des rites domestiques chinois de Tchou-hi. Paris. (The first modern French translation of this text in Zhu Xi’s corpus). ———. 1890. “The Western Inscription (Ximing)/L’Inscription de l’ouest (Si-ming).” In Records of the Congress/Actes du Congrès. Leyden. (The first modern French translation of this text originally by Zhang Zai, including renderings of the related commentary by Zhu Xi). Faber, Ernst. 1875. A Systematical Digest of the Doctrines of Confucius According to the Analects, Great Learning, and Doctrine of the Mean, with an Introduction on the Authorities upon Confucius and Confucianism. Hongkong [sic]: China Mail Office. (An English translation of the German original, this German missionary-scholar from Shanghai provides a lengthy presentation of the basic concepts and key doctrines found in the three works associated with the teachings of “Confucius” or Master Kong.) ———, trans. and comm. 1882. The Mind of Mencius or Political Economy founded upon Moral Philosophy. A Systematic Digest of the Doctrines of the Chinese Philosopher Mencius, B. C. 325. Translated by Arthur B.  Hutchinson. London: Trübner and Company. (This is a major digest of Mengzian ideas, divided into three “books” and 21 chapters, dealing with Master Meng’s conception of morality based on virtue ethics, its related practices, and its implications for governance.) ———. 1897. China in the Light of History. Shanghai: American Presbyterian Mission Press. (After a general thesis dealing with many aspects of 19th century Qing cultural life, Faber adds an appendix entitled “Missionary View of Confucianism,” where he enumerates “points of similarity,” “points of antagonism,” and “points of deficiency.”) Fei, Leren 費樂仁 (Lauren F. Pfister). 2005. “Scaling the Sinological Himalayas: Insights Drawn from Comparisons of James Legge’s (1815–1897) and Richard Wilhelm’s (1873–1930) Translations and Interpretations of Ruist Canonical Literature 攀登漢學中喜瑪拉雅山的巨 擘——從比較理雅各(1815–1897)和尉禮賢(1873–1930)翻譯及詮釋儒教古典經文中所得 之啟迪.” In The Newsletter of the Institute for Chinese Literature and Philosophy of Academia Sinica 中央研究院中國文哲研究所通訊 15.2(June 2005): 21–57. (A systematic comparison of Legge’s and Wilhelm’s renderings of the Yijing and Liji in English and German respectively). Fei, Leren. 2016a. “Three New Peaks in the Sinological Himalayas—Iakinf, Séraphin Couvreur, and Joaquim Guerra, Their Lives and Their Works 漢學喜馬拉雅山脈的三座新峰雅金甫, 顧賽芬, 戈振東的生平及作品.” World Sinology 世界漢學 16: 113–145. (Introducing three relatively unknown but significant missionary-scholars working within Chinese contexts during the 19th and 20th centuries from Russia, France, and Portugal). ———. 2016b. Methodology in Interdisciplinary Studies of Translation—Selected Essays from Lauren F. Pfister’s Sinological Studies 翻譯的跨學科研究方法論——費樂仁漢學家研究選 論. Translated and edited by Yue Feng 岳峰 et al. Xiamen 廈門: Xiamen University Press 廈 門大學出版社. (This volume is made up of thirteen chapters, some not previously appearing in Chinese, and many dealing with the sinological achievements and questions related to the corpora of James Legge, Richard Wilhelm, and other missionary-scholars.) Forke, Alfred. 1927. History of Ancient Chinese Philosophy/Geschichte der alten chinesischen Philosophie. Hamburg: Friedrichsen. (A detailed account in German of the classical pre-­ imperial period of Chinese philosophical traditions). ———. 1934. History of Chinese Philosophy in the Middle Ages/Geschichte der mittelalterlichen chinesischen Philosophie. Hamburg: Friedrichsen, De Grutyer and Company. (The second volume in Forke’s German account of the history of Chinese philosophical traditions, covering in detail the relevant movements in the three teachings from the Han dynasty till the end of the Tang dynasty).

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———. 1938. History of the Newer Chinese Philosophy / Geschichte der neuren mittelalterlichen chinesischen Philosophie. Hamburg: Friedrichsen, De Grutyer and Company. (In this third and last large volume in a series on the history of Chinese philosophy prepared by Forke, he covers the major “new” developments within Ruist traditions during the Song dynasty and continues to offer accounts of various schools that developed subsequently until the end of the Qing dynasty.) Fung, Yu-lan. 1952–1953. A History of Chinese Philosophy. Translated by Derke Bodde. New Haven: Princeton University Press. 2 vols. (One of the most influential works published outside of China, an English translation based on the two-volume work produced by the young Feng between 1931 and 1934). Graf, Olaf, trans. and comm. 1953. Record of Things Close at Hand: The Song Ruist Summa with the Commentary by Yu Zai/Djin-Si Lu: Die sungkonfuzianishce Summa mit dem Kommentar des Yä Tsai. Tokyo: Sophia University Press. (A three-volume work in four tomes (the second volume in two tomes), typed manuscripts including in the second volume a full German translation of the Jinsi Lu, the first rendering of this work in any European language. The first smaller volume includes historical introductions and conceptual essays, while the last and largest volume includes commentarial and explanatory notes to the whole text prepared by the translator.) ———. 1970. Dao and Ren: Being and Ought in Song Ruist Monism/Tao und Jen: Sein und Sollen in sungchinesischen Monismus. Wiesbaden: Otto Harrossowitz. (Though discussing many other Song dynasty Ru scholars as well, this work mainly addresses the writings of Zhu Xi by means of summary discussions dealing with many topics including the Great Ultimate, li and qi, Dao, Heaven, destiny, ren and the four Mengzian virtues [ren, yi, li, zhi or humane cultivation, rightness/duty, ritual propriety, and wisdom], among others.) Guerra, Joaquim Angélico de Jesus, S.  J. 1984a. The School of Confucius: The Four Books of Confucius—Original Text, Transcription [in Portuguese], Translation [in Portuguese] and Critical Notes/Na Escola de Confúcio: Quadrivolume de Confúcio 論語, 大學, 中庸, 孝經— Texto Original, Leitura Alfabética, Tradução e Notas Críticas. Macau: Jesuítas Portugeses. (The first modern Portuguese translation of these canonical works by a Portuguese Jesuit who resided at various times in Macau and Guangdong province, including a searing criticism of Zhu Xi (“Tjur-Xe”) as the “second greatest heretic” in Ruist history within the long introduction to his version of the Great Learning). ———. 1984b. The School of Confucius: The Works of Mencius—Original Text, Transcription [in Portuguese], Translation [in Portuguese] and Critical Notes/Na Escola de Confúcio: As Obras de Mãncio 孟子—Texto Original, Leitura Alfabética, Tradução e Notas Críticas. Macau: Jesuítas Portugeses. (The first modern Portuguese rendering of the Mengzi, accompanied by extensive annotations where Zhu Xi, Legge, Couvreur, and Waley are referenced and evaluated in their commentaries on this work). Hackmann, Heinrich F. 1927. Chinese Philosophy/Chinesische Philosophie. München: Verlag Ernst Reinhardt. (An overview of Chinese philosophical themes by a scholar who studied Daoist religious traditions and was considered to be an expert in Chinese and East Asian Buddhism.) Ho, Sai Ming Simon 何世明. 1986. Dialogue between Christianity and Confucianism 基督教 與儒學對談. Hong Kong 香港: Chinese Christian Literature Council, Ltd. 基督教文化學會 編譯組. (This is a work produced by a key Anglican leader in Hong Kong, one in which his account of Zhu Xi’s teachings is addressed.) Hsü, Sung-shi Princeton 徐松石. 1971. Christianity and Chinese Culture 基督教與中國文 化. Hong Kong 香港: Baptist Press 浸信會出版部. (This popular book written by a scholarly Chinese Baptist pastor, ranging over themes including teachings from Ruism, Chinese Buddhism, and Daoism, deals critically and negatively with Zhu Xi’s metaphysics and philosophical system.) Le Gall, Stanislas. 1894. The Philosopher Zhu Xi: His Doctrine, His Influence/Le Philosophe Tchou Hi: Sa Doctrine, Son Influence. Chang-hai: Imprimerie de la Mission Catholique a

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L’Orphelinat de T’ou-Se-We. (A work in three parts, this study by a French Jesuit presents a summary and critical evaluation of previously produced relevant studies and advances its own position, supporting claims that Zhu Xi was not a theist, and was the premier Chinese intellectual of the Song dynasty, and remained so in the 19th century.) Legge, James. 1852. The Notions of the Chinese concerning God and Spirits. Hongkong [sic]: Hongkong Register. (Within this final work of the classical period of the “term controversy” (1848–1852), the author refers to Zhu Xi’s metaphysics as found in his commentary to The Diagram of the Supreme Ultimate and his explanation of the nature of spiritual beings from his commentary on the 16th chapter of the Zhongyong.) Legge, James. 1885. The Sacred Books of China: The Texts of Confucianism. Parts 3 and 4. The Li Ki. Oxford: Clarendon Press. (In these volumes Legge presented his rendering of the whole of the standard work, The Record of Rites [Liji], and included within them renderings of the “old version” of both the Zhongyong and the Daxue.) ———. 1893. The Chinese Classics with a Translation, Critical and Exegetical Notes, Prolegomena, and Copious Indexes. Volume 1: Confucian Analects, The Great Learning, The Doctrine of the Mean. Oxford: Clarendon Press. (This significantly revised version of the 1861 first edition provides renderings of three of the Four Books, using the critical texts [“new texts”] and commentaries prepared by Zhu Xi.) Leung, In-sing (Liang, Yancheng) Thomas 梁燕城, and Chu Chai-sei (Xu Jishi) Jeremiah 徐 濟時. 2012. Theological Reflections in the Context of Chinese Culture: A Study of Christian Scholars toward their Evangelical Theologies 中國問哈處境的神學反思:中華福音神學人物 研究. Burnaby: Culture Regeneration Research Society 文化更新研究中心. (An informed study of thirteen major Chinese Protestant scholars’ lives and works, regularly quoting seminal passages from selected works, and summarizing their contributions to broader themes related to Chinese cultural concerns.) Liao, Xiaowei 廖曉煒. 2017. “Lo Kuang and Mou Zongsan’s Different Interpretations of Ruist Metaphyics 羅光, 牟宗三對儒學形上學的不同詮釋.” The Hall of [Master] Kong’s Learning 孔學堂 10: 87–97. (A lengthy study comparing Lo and Mou in their metaphysical claims, written by a young Ruist scholar from the PRC.) Liu, Shuxian 劉述先. 1982. The Development and Completion of Master Zhu [Xi]’s Philosophical Thought 朱子哲學思想的發展與完成. Taipei 臺北: Taiwan Student Bookstore 臺灣學生書 局. (A thorough study of the development of Zhu Xi’s thought during his lifetime, reprinted numerous times). Luo, Guang 羅光. 1982. On the Metaphysical Structure of Zhu Xi 朱熹的形上結構論. Honolulu: independently published. (Chinese and English versions of the author’s presentation at the International Conference on Zhu Xi Studies held in Honolulu at the University of Hawai’i at Manoa, reflecting the author’s mature position in critically receiving Zhu Xi’s philosophical system within his Roman Catholic New Scholastic philosophical system.) ———. 1983. The System of Ruist Philosophy 儒家哲學的體系. Taipei 臺北: Taiwan Student Bookstore 臺灣學生書局. (Constituted by a series of 25 essays on various topics that include thorough studies of Zhu Xi’s metaphysics and other claims, this special volume includes at the end his reflections on the international status of Zhu Xi studies as seen at meetings held in Honolulu in 1982.) ———. 1995. Ruist Life Philosophy 儒家生命哲學. Taipei 臺北: Taiwan Student Bookstore 臺 灣學生書局. (Here we have the Roman Catholic Archbishop’s extensive and systematic effort at providing an overview of Ruist classical and historical traditions, integrated into his Roman Catholic worldview shaped substantially by Thomist philosophical theology.) ———. 2001. Metaphysical Life Philosophy 形上生命哲學. Taipei 臺北: Taiwan Student Bookstore 臺灣學生書局. (Here we have a systematic summary of “life philosophy” by the 90 year old Roman Catholic Archbishop of Taipei, one that provides a clear overview of how he sought to synthesize Ruist classical and historical traditions [including quite a bit drawn from Zhu Xi’s teachings] with his Aquinian-inspired Roman Catholic worldview as it related to philosophical anthropology, whole person development and spiritual sanctification.)

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McClatchie, Thomas. 1874. Confucian Cosmogony. A Translation of Section Forty-nine of the “Complete Works” of the Philosopher Choo-Foo-tze, with Explanatory Notes. (This is the earliest modern English rendering of a substantial section of Zhu Xi’s works, presented in a Chinese–English bilingual format, accompanied by substantial annotations, and promoting a highly problematic translation and interpretation of the whole text.) Meynard, Thierry S.  J. 2011. Confucius Sinarum Philosophus (1687): The First Translation of the Confucian Classics. Roma: Institutum Historicum Societatis Iesu. (The author identifies and explains how the 17th century Jesuit translation team that produced this work in 1687 did receive an influence from Zhu Xi’s commentaries, but only indirectly and unselfconsciously through reliance on a commentary written by a Ming dynasty imperial tutor, Zhang Juzheng 張居正.) Meynard, Thierry S. J. 2015. The Jesuit Reading of Confucius: The First Translation of the Lunyu (1687) Published in the West. Leiden: Brill. (As in the previous work, this careful interpretive study in multiple languages [Latin, Chinese and English] indicates how this initial rendering of the Lunyu into Latin, by relying on Zhang Juzheng’s commentary and their own preferences, was at times promoting, at times neglecting, and at times opposing Zhu Xi’s commentaries on this seminal Ruist scripture.) Otterspeer, Willem, ed. 1989. Leiden Oriental Connections: 1850–1940. Leiden: E.  J. Brill. (Listing and describing in some detail those who studied at Leiden University and then later lived, worked, and produced in oriental locations). Pan, Feng-chuan 潘鳳娟. 2013. “Writing Home from Afar: Julia Ching’s Nostalgic Writing and Her Identity as a Confucian Christian in Diaspora 他鄉遙記:秦家懿的鄉愁書寫與儒家基 督徒的離散.” Sinological Studies 漢學研究 31.2: 203–226. (This Taiwanese female scholar assesses her older Taiwanese predecessor in her journey as a Roman Catholic nun, a scholar of 10th to 17th century Chinese intellectual history, and a cancer survivor, as she reflects on her identity as a female Chinese scholar in American and Canadian settings.) Pan, Hsiao Huei 潘小慧. 2015. “The Development of the Ethics of Taiwan Neo-Scholasticism: In the Light of Kao Si-chien, Lo Kuang and Chou Ke-chin 臺灣新士林哲學的倫理學發展:從 高思家謙, 羅光, 周克勤談起.” In Universitas 哲學與文化 42.7: 91–108. (Here is a lengthy and informed summary of the development of contemporary New Scholasticism in Taiwan, involving eight major figures, but focusing on the published writings of the three figures mentioned above.) ———. 2016. “Is Chinese Roman Catholic Philosophy Possible? A Discussion Based on The Complete Works of Lo Kuang and [His Work,] The Metaphysical Philosophy of Life 一種中國 天主教哲學是否可能?以《羅光全書》和《形上生命哲學》為據的討論.” Universitas 哲 學與文化 43.1: 97–112. (Reflecting on Lo Kuang’s heritage as a Chinese Roman Catholic philosopher, this study argues that the New Scholasticism in which he served as a proponent is both feasible and realized within the works Lo published.) Pfister, Lauren F. 1991. “Some New Dimensions in the Study of the Works of James Legge (1815– 1897): Part II.” Sino-Western Cultural Relations Journal 13: 33–48. (An early detailed discussion of James Legge’s “inheritance” from “China’s Orthodox Traditions,” including his diversified handling of many interpretive issues drawn from Zhu Xi’s works, but also indicating his interest in and reliance on various aspects of the works by two Qing Ruist scholars opposed to Zhu’s interpretaions: Mao Qiling 毛奇齡 (s. Xihe 西河) and Luo Zhongfan 羅 仲藩.) ———. 1995. “The Different Faces of Contemporary Religious Confucianism: An Account of the Diverse Approaches of Some Major 20th Century Chinese Confucian Scholars.” The Journal of Chinese Philosophy 22.1: 5–79. (This extensive article argues that there was no singular approach to “religious Confucianism” from the period of the 1958 “Confucian manifesto” produced in Hong Kong till the last decade of the 20th century.) ———. 2004. Striving for “The Whole Duty of Man”: James Legge and the Scottish Protestant Encounter with China, 2 vols. Frankfurt am Main: Peter Lang. (A lengthy study of the life and works of this fulcrum figure among Protestant missionary-scholars in 19th century China, one

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also significantly influenced by and engaged with Zhu Xi’s commentarial texts, though differing in his metaphysical and religious commitments.) ———. 2010. “China’s Missionary-Scholars.” In Handbook of Christianity in China. Volume Two: 1800 to the Present, edited by R. G. Tiedemann, 742–765. Leiden and Boston: E. J. Brill. (In this article the neologized term “missionary-scholar” is defined and illustrated by means of just over 20 specific case studies, also suggesting that there may be as many as 200 missionary-­ scholars who lived and served in China between 1850 to 1950.) ———. 2011. “Classics or Sacred Books? Grammatological and Interpretive Problems of Ruist and Daoist Scriptures in the Translation Corpora of James Legge (1815–1897) and Richard Wilhelm (1873–1930).” In Max Deeg, Oliver Frieberger, and Christoph Kline, eds., Canonization and Canon Formation in the History of Asian Religions l Kanonizierung und Kanon-bildung in der asiatischen Religionsgeschichte, 421–63. Vienna: Austrian Academy of Sciences. (This is primarily a comparison of Legge’s and Wilhelm’s overall presentation of Ruist scriptures, sometime referring to Zhu Xi, and illustrating the major differences between this Scottish missionary-scholar’s English renderings and the German Lutheran’s controversial German renderings.) ———. 2012. “Post-Secularity within Contemporary Chinese Philosophical Contexts,” Journal of Chinese Philosophy 39.1: 121–38. (After characterizing de-secularization from an international perspective, this article discusses four ways contemporary Chinese philosophers position themselves in relationship to this de-secularization process, and illustrates them with contemporary examples.) ———. 2013. “Evaluating James Legge’s (1815–1897) Assessment of Master Meng’s Theory of the Goodness of Human Nature: Comparative Philosophical and Cultural Explorations.” Universitas: Monthly Review of Philosophy and Culture 哲學與文化 40.3(March 2013): 107– 130. (The author explains how Legge justified adopting a theory of “human nature able to become good” as a proper understanding of Master Meng’s position, revealing how this was distinct from other approaches traditionally associated with Master Meng’s teachings.) ———. 2015a. “Joaquim Angélico de Jesus Guerra (1906–1993): A Brief Biography and Overview of His Portuguese Chinese Classics.” In Mechthild Leutner and Hauke Neddermann, eds., Challenging Narratives: Blind Spots of Sinology, in Berliner China Heft/Chinese History and Society 46: 25–41. (An introductory overview to the life and sinological works of the Portuguese missionary-scholar, Jaoquim Guerra, the first translator of Chinese classical literature into Portuguese.) ———. 2015b. “The Dynamic and Multi-cultural Disciplinary Crucible in which Chinese Philosophy was Formed.” Minima sinica 1: 33–90. (The article presents the multiform and deeply contested international and national cultural influences that framed the development of the modern disciplines of “Chinese philosophy” during the late Qing and Republican periods.) Qian, Mu 錢穆. 1971. Thematic Outline of the Study of Master Zhu [Xi] 朱子學提綱. Taipei 臺北: Three People’s Book Store 三民書局. (This is a seminal work seeking to organize systematically Zhu Xi’s teachings along thematic lines, constituted on the basis of quotations from his multiform corpus.) Ricci, Matteo 利瑪竇. 2014. Contemporary Annotations to The True Meaning of the Lord of Heaven 天主實義今注. Annotated by Thierry Meynard 梅謙立, edited by Tan Jie 譚傑. Beijing 北京: The Commercial Press 商務印書館. (This modern annotated version of the classic text produced by Ricci helps to reveal how Ricci was basically supported an understanding of “ancient Chinese theism” against the alternative metaphysical claims of Zhu Xi and other later Ruists.) Tu, Weiming, and Mary Evelyn Tucker, eds. 2003–2004. Confucian Spirituality. New  York: Crossroad Publishing Company. 2 vols. (One of the key works representing the wide variety of claims related to “Confucian Spirituality,” with an attempt by the editors to unite them all under a single, but complex, conception of its theme.) von der Gabelentz, Georg. 1876. Taiji tu of Master Zhou [Dunyi]: The Diagram of the Original Principle with Commentary by Zhu Xi/Thai-kih-thu, des Tscheu-tsi: Tafel des Urprinzips mit

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Tschu-Hi Kommentare. Dresden. (Originally a doctoral dissertation, this volume presents Zhu Xi’s worldview expressed in the Taijitu shuo and various Categorized Sayings.) Walravens, Hartmut, ed. 2008. Richard Wilhelm (1873–1930): Missionary in China and Advocate for the Good of Chinese Cultured Life / Richard Wilhelm (1873–1930): Mirrionar in China und Vermittler chinesischen Geistesguts. Sankt Augustin: Institut Monumenta Serica. (Written by a prolific German sinological bibliographer, this study includes both a rediscovered bibliography of the library of the China Institute in Frankfurt that Richard Wilhelm created in the mid-1920s, and a biographical essay on Wilhelm’s life in Beijing [1922–1924] by the German sinologist, Thomas Zimmer.) Wang, Qiu 王秋. 2015. “The Horizons of Scholasticism and Lo Kuang’s Research in Studies of Master Zhu [Xi] 士林哲學視域與羅光的朱子學研究.” In Universitas 哲學與文化 42.7: 91–108. (This is the one article in any language that deals with Lo’s extensive interests in the teachings of Zhu Xi, and indicates a number of key interpretive themes that are culled from many of Lo’s relevant works.) Wieger, Léon 1969. A History of the Religious Beliefs and Philosophical Opinions in China from the Beginning to the Present Time. Trans. Edward Chalmers Werner. New York: Paragon Book Reprint Corporation. (Presented in 77 chapters, this general summary of Chinese philosophical and religious beliefs is written in a lively style, promoting provocative assessments and bibliographic references for each section.) Wilhelm, Richard, trans. and comm. 1910. Confucius Analects [Lunyu] / Kung-Futse Gespräche [Lun Yü]. Jena: Eugen Diederich. (This is the first in a series of classical translations of Ruist and Daoist scriptures into German by a noted missionary-educator from Qingdao, presenting both a “literal” and a “modernized” version of most passages.) ———, trans. and comm. 1916. Mencius (Meng Ke) / Mong Dsi (Mong Ko). Jena: Eugen Diederich. (This was the second volume of the Four Books rendered into German by this noted missionary-educator from Qingdao.) ———. 1929. Chinese Philosophy/Chinesische Philosophie. Breslau: Ferdinand Hirt. (Within this thin volume that covers historical figures from ancient times up to the end of the Qing dynasty, Wilhelm devoted a section to the teachings of Zhu Xi (“Dschu Hi”) and his opponents, describing Zhu as a “systematic spirit of the first order” comparable to Aristotle.) ———. 1930. Li Gi: Das Buch der Sitte der Älteren und Jüngeren Tai. Jena: Eugen Diederich. (This posthumously published volume includes German versions of just over 40 chapters from the Liji, including the “old text” versions of the Zhongyong and Daxue.) Wong, Ching Him Felix 黃正謙. 2013. “On the Latin Translation of Mencius of François Noël, SJ. 論耶穌會士衛方濟的拉丁孟子翻譯.” Journal of Chinese Studies 57 (July 2013): 133–72. (The author clarifies that the 18th century Belgian Jesuit, Noël, did self-consciously employ Zhu Xi’s commentaries in rendering this first modern translation of the whole of the Mengzi in any European language.) ———. 2015. “The Unalterable Mean: Some Observations on the Presentation and Interpretation of Zhongyong of François Noël, SJ.” Journal of Chinese Studies 60 (July 2015): 197–224. (From this study of the Belgian Jesuit’s translation and interpretation of the Zhongyong, the author proves that he did cite Zhu Xi’s commentaries explicitly and regularly, along with commentaries written by Zhang Juzheng and others.) Wu, Qin 吳倩. 2010. “A Comparative Study of the Account of Pre-Qin Ruism in the Works of Lo Kuang and Mou Zongsan 羅光, 牟宗三先秦儒學觀比較研究.” The History of Chinese Philosophy 中國哲學史 1: 93–97. (In this article the account and importance of the pre-­ imperial Ruist traditions in the works of Lo and Mou are described and compared.) Wylie, Alexander. 1867. Notes on Chinese Literature: With Introductory Remarks on the Progressive Advancement of the Art; and a List of Translations from the Chinese into Various European Languages. Shanghai: American Presbyterian Mission Press. (This seminal writing provided a bibliographical introduction to traditional Chinese culture based on over 140 Chinese and dozens of European works [in English, Latin, French, German, Dutch, and Russian] ­categorized into the four major categories and many subcategories of the 18th cen-

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tury Qing imperial library [i.e., jing 經, shi 史, zi 子, ji 集, or “classics,” “histories,” “masters,” and “belles-lettres”].) Yao, Xinzhong, ed. 2003. RoutledgeCurzon Encyclopedia of Confucianism. London: Routledge. Two volumes. (A major contribution to the international and multi-disciplinary study of Ruism, including articles on persons, works, historical schools and related institutions drawn from the histories of Chinese, Korean, Japanese, and Vietnamese Ruist schools.) Zenker, Ernst Viktor. 1926. History of Chinese Philosophy: Vol. 1. From the Classical Period to the Han Dynasty/Geschichte der Chinesischen Philosophie: I. Bd. Das klassische Zeitalter bis zu Han Dynastie. Reidenberg: Verlag Gebrüder Stiepel. (The first volume of one of the earliest modern histories of Chinese philosophy in European languages.) ———. 1927. History of Chinese Philosophy: Vol. 2. From the Han Dynasty to the Present/ Geschichte der Chinesischen Philosophie: II. Bd. Von der Han Dynastie bis zur Gegenwart. Reidenberg: Verlag Gebrüder Stiepel. (The second volume of one of the earliest modern histories of Chinese philosophy in European languages.) Zhong, Xinzi. 2014. “A Reconstruction of Zhu Xi’s Religious Philosophy Inspired by Leibniz: The Natural Theology of Heaven.” Ph.D. dissertation, Hong Kong Baptist University, Hong Kong. (A comparative philosophical project that argues that Leibniz, while not recognizing Zhu Xi as a distinct intellectual, employed many concepts within Zhu Xi’s metaphysical system that not only anticipated some of Leibniz’s monadic metaphysics, but also justifies a particular panentheistic understanding of tian 天 that qualifies that deity as a distinctive Song Ruist understanding of metaphysical reality.) Zottoli, Angelo. 1879–1882. Course in the Literature of China: For the Use of New Missionaries / Cursus litteraturae sinicae: neo-missionariis accommodates. Chang-hai: ex Typographia Missionis Catholicae in Orphanotrophio Tou-se-we. (Presented in a bilingual Chinese–Latin text in five volumes, with the whole of the Four Books [Volume 2], major selections from the Five Classics [Volume 3], and renderings of numerous works from ancient, older, and more modern literature and poetry [Volumes 4 and 5].) Lauren F. Pfister is a professor emeritus of the Department of Religion and Philosophy of Hong Kong Baptist University, a life-time member of the Hong Kong Academy of the Humanities, and founder of the Hephzibah Mountain Aster Academy天星花書院 in Colorado, USA. His research and writing have focused on nineteenth and twentieth century Ruist (“Confucian”) philosophy and related texts, including studies of and contributions to the histories of Chinese philosophical traditions. His works have included studies of the history of sinology especially with regard to the lives and works of Christian missionary-scholars, various themes in philosophical, theological, pedagogical and translation hermeneutics, as well as a fairly wide range of topics in comparative philosophical and comparative religious studies.  

Chapter 31

Zhu Xi and Korean Philosophy Don Baker

1 Introduction Pak Che-ga 朴齊家 (1750–1805), a minor official in Korea’s Chosŏn dynasty (1392–1910), was able to travel to China, as part of an official delegation, four times between 1778 and 1792. An unusually curious and observant traveler, Pak wrote down his observations in a book known as Pukhagŭi 北學議 (A Discussion of Learning from the North). Most of his observations compare how agriculture, handicraft production, and commercial activities were carried out in China under the Manchu and in Korea in the eighteenth century, with Korea usually been shown to be far behind China technologically. However, he also noted that intellectual life in China was far more diverse than it was in his own country. He wrote that people he met when he returned from his trips to Beijing asked him what he saw there. He reported, “Uneducated scholars asked if China had the five essential grains, moderately-­educated scholars asked if they wrote Chinese as well in China as we do in Korea, and the best-educated scholars asked if China, too, was dedicated to the study of li 理.” By the study of li, they meant the Neo-Confucianism of Zhu Xi. Pak pointed out that, in China, the teachings of Lu Jiuyuan 陸九淵 (1139–1193) and Wang Shouren 王守仁 (1472–1529), better known as Wang Yangming 王陽明 were flourishing. However, he noted, Koreans clung to Zhu Xi’s teachings only, regarding any deviation from the Cheng–Zhu school of Neo-Confucianism as heretical (yiduan 異端).1 Decrying the narrow-mindedness of his fellow Koreans, he complained that reputable scholars would not even think of spending any time  Yiduan, which literally means “a different thread,” is a common Confucian term for any ideas or practices which deviate from what is considered acceptable ideas or practices. 1

D. Baker (*) Department of Asian Studies, University of British Columbia, Vancouver, BC, Canada e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2020 K.-c. Ng, Y. Huang (eds.), Dao Companion to ZHU Xi’s Philosophy, Dao Companions to Chinese Philosophy 13, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-29175-4_31

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studying the ideas of Lu or Wang for fear that would cause them to fail the civil service examinations. (Pak 1974: 437–38.) Pak was not the only Korean to notice that the philosophy of Zhu Xi dominated Confucian thought during Korea’s long Chosŏn 朝鮮 dynasty (1392–1910). Most other Koreans, however, were proud of their single-minded dedication to Zhu Xi. After the fall of Ming China to the Manchu, a people Koreans had long regarded as barbarians, Koreans blamed the fall of the Ming on its deviation from Zhu Xi orthodoxy. They felt, moreover, that the fall of the Ming had passed the burden of maintaining Confucian orthodoxy into Korean hands (Haboush 2005: 115–16). After 1644 they were warier of non-Zhu Xi varieties of Confucianism than they were even in the first half of the staunchly Neo-Confucian Chosŏn dynasty. Many Chosŏn Koreans also believed that they had been Confucians almost as long as the Chinese had, thanks to Jizi 箕子, the author of Hongfan 洪範 (The Great Plan) in the Shujing 書經 (Book of History/Book of Documents), whom they believed had fled China for Korea after the fall of the Shang and had brought with him the culture of the state of Lu (the home of Confucius), making Korea the cultural equal of China from that time on (Han 1985: 370). It is unlikely that Koreans became Confucians before Confucius was even born. It appears instead that Koreans were first introduced to Confucianism around 2000 years ago, after the Han dynasty established the outpost of Lelang 樂浪 in 108 BCE in the vicinity of what is now Pyongyang. Bamboo strips on which were written the eleventh and twelfth chapters of the Analects were discovered in a Han-era tomb excavated there near the end of the twentieth century (Kim K. 2011). It is now known how much impact Han-dynasty Confucianism introduced through Lelang had on the non-Chinese inhabitants of the Korean peninsula at that time. The first solid evidence of Koreans adopting Confucianism comes after Lelang fell in 313. A few decades later, we are told, a Confucian academy was established in Koguryŏ 高句麗 (trad. 37 BCE–668 CE), one of three major kingdoms on the Korean peninsula at that time. The other two kingdoms, Paekche 百濟 (trad. 18  BCE–660  CE) and Silla 新羅 (trad. 57  BCE–935  CE), soon followed suit. However, these academies trained the sons of lower-level aristocrats how to draft documents so they could serve as scribes for government offices. They did not focus on Confucian philosophy (Deuchler 1992: 14). Silla worked with Tang to defeat its two peninsular rivals in the late seventh century and afterwards, though autonomous, became part of the Tang-centric world order. This arrangement allowed bright young men of Silla to travel to Tang and take the Confucian civil service examinations there. The best known of Koreans who passed the Tang civil service examination and worked in the government there is Ch’oe Ch’iwŏn 崔致遠 (857–?). He returned to Korea after spending 17 years in China and is said to have retired to the Korean countryside, frustrated by the role family background played in government appointments in Silla, so different from the social mobility he had experienced in China (Deuchler 1992: 14–15). In retirement, Ch’oe reflected on what Korea and China had in common and wrote that there were three teachings followed by the people of Silla, one of which called for people to exercise filial piety within their family and be loyal to their kingdom, which

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Ch’oe explicitly attributes to the teachings of Confucius (Kim P. 2012: 131). This is Confucian ethics, but it is clearly not Confucian philosophy. For philosophy in Silla Korea, we have to turn to the writings of Wŏnhyo 元曉 (617–686), a Buddhist monk, since Buddhism, not Confucianism, dominated intellectual life in Silla Korea. We find the same absence of much Confucian philosophical writing in the next dynasty, Koryŏ 高麗 (918–1392). Just as in Silla, the people of Koryŏ turned to Buddhism for answers to questions about the meaning of life and the nature of reality. However, unlike Silla, Koryŏ used civil service examinations to choose the most talented among the sons of its elite for government posts. Moreover, a Chinese visitor in the twelfth century noted, “Among the professions of the four classes of people, Confucian scholars are considered the most precious” (Xu 2016: 145). We even have evidence of a private Confucian academy being established early in the dynasty by a scholar named Ch’oe Ch’ung 崔沖 (984–1068). Nevertheless, the best philosophical writing during Koryŏ was done by Buddhist monks such as Chinul 知訥 (1158–1210). That may be at least partially because the Koryŏ civil service examinations focused more on displays of literary talent rather than philosophical acumen (Duncan 1994). That emphasis on rhetorical virtuosity and belles- lettres began to change in the fourteenth century. Since Korea was part of the Mongol empire, Koreans were allowed to take the civil service examinations in Yuan China. Those examinations tested knowledge of Zhu Xi’s interpretation of the Four Books and the Five Classics, so Koreans who studied for those examinations began to learn the Zhu Xi approach to Confucianism (Bol 2008: 90–94; Do 2017). Some of those Koreans brought copies of Zhu Xi’s writings with them when they returned home, although it is not clear whether An Hyang 安珦 (1243–1306) or Paek I-jŏng 白頤正 (1247–1323) should be given credit for being the first to introduce Zhu Xi to Koreans in Koryŏ. Both men spent several years in China and are said to have shared what they learned in China with their fellow literati back home (Deuchler 1992: 17–19). What is clear from the historical record is that Zhu Xi’s writings provided ammunition for scholars who wanted to push Buddhism, which had been the dominant philosophical and ritual force in Koryŏ, to the sidelines and replace it with Neo-Confucianism. We see evidence for this in the mourning practices of some members of long established aristocratic families who began building Confucian-style ancestral shrines and drawing on Zhu Xi’s Family Rituals to honor their ancestors with rituals in the last decades of Koryŏ (Ahn 2009). The fall of Koryŏ and its replacement in 1392 by Korea’s first avowedly Confucian government did not lead to the immediate Neo-Confucianization of Korea’s politics, society or even its ritual life. Deep into the new Chosŏn dynasty, many Koreans resisted the changes in traditional concepts of the family needed to conform to the prescriptions of Zhu Xi’s Family Rituals. (Deuchler 1992). Moreover, the Confucian officials who served as the top officials in the new government were more interested in reforming state institutions than in promoting the individual self-­ cultivation and local community compacts that were core elements of Zhu Xi’s moral and political philosophy (Duncan 2000: 237–65). The privileging of Confucianism over Buddhism did mean, however, that we begin to see some serious

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philosophical writings that drew on Zhu Xi’s ideas. It took Koreans until the sixteenth century to fully absorb the new approach to Confucianism they found in Zhu Xi’s writings. Even before we find fully mature Neo-Confucianism on the peninsula, Neo-Confucianism, starting in the late fourteenth century, began providing an arsenal of philosophical weapons used to force Buddhism out of the powerful role it had played in public life in Koryŏ. We also see a few pioneers trying to explain Zhu Xi’s new interpretations of the Classics to students.

2 Introducing Zhu Xi to Korea Chŏng To-jŏn 鄭道傳 (1342–1398) was the first Korean to launch a serious philosophical attack on Buddhism based on what he had learned from the writings of Zhu Xi and the Cheng brothers. There had been criticisms of Buddhism earlier in Koryŏ. However, before Chŏng those criticisms usually focused on the threat to the financial health of the government posed by both the amount of money the government spent on Buddhist rituals and the loss of revenue caused by tax-exemptions for Budddhist temples. Chŏng’s anti-Buddhist argument took a different tack. In “On the Mind, Vital Energy, and Defining Patterns” (simgirip'yŏn 心氣理篇), written in 1394, and “Various Criticisms of Mr. Buddha” (pulssi chappyŏn 佛氏雜 辨) written shortly before he died in 1398, Chŏng ridiculed various Buddhist assumptions and assertions as totally unreasonable from a Neo-Confucian perspective. For example, he pointed out that the Buddhist assumption of reincarnation was inconsistent with what common sense and our own senses tell us: everything that is solid eventually disintegrates and everything which thus disintegrates into non-­ existence can never be reconstituted again as the exact same thing. He argued that this is the natural operation of yin and yang and the Five Phases which we can see all around us all the time.2 “How can you possibly say that that which has been dispersed is again joined and that which has passed away can return?” (Chŏng T. 2015: 55–56). Chŏng next attacks what he sees as the Buddhist blurring of the differences between human nature and human behavior. Human nature, Chŏng writes, is li 理, the patterns instilled in us by Heaven that define appropriate thought and behavior. Human behavior, on the other hand, refers to anything people do, which is influenced by both li and our psychophysical constitution (qi 氣). He then cites Zhu Xi saying that “if you take the behavior of something to be the same as its nature, then would not someone’s irresponsible actions such as taking a sword to murder someone be considered a consequence of their nature?” (Chŏng T. 2015: 62). Chŏng then goes on to attack the Buddhist understanding of the mind as that which creates the illusionary phenomena which constitute the world around us. He  Yin and yang were terms used for complementary aspects of nature, such as wet and dry, hot and cold, hard and soft, male and female, etc. The Five Phases were the five basic processes of changes in the natural world, such as slow growth, fast growth, slow decline, fast decline, and stability.) 2

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insists instead that the mind is that which engages with the real external world, such as when a person seeing a child about to fall into a well will naturally want to rush over and save that child. It is also, he claims, one’s mind that reacts with feelings of filial affection when seeing one’s parent and with love when looking at one’s children. Chŏng argues that such feelings, because of where they originate and what they are stimulated by, are part of a real world and are therefore themselves also real. Refuting the sharp line Buddhists draw between the mind and its manifestations in feelings and behavior, he cites a line that appears several times in a collection of Zhu Xi’s sayings, the Zhuzi Yulei 朱子語類: “a defining condition (ti 體) and its actualization (yong 用) spring from the same source; the manifest and the subtle have no gap between them.” He reinforces his argument with another often-­ used Neo-Confucian phrase: “Buddhist scholarship is good at correcting the internal with reverence but it lacks the concept of appropriate behavior necessary for correcting the external” (Chŏng T. 2015: 63). Again citing Zhu Xi, this time saying that the core of the mind is a “subtle numinousness, which is sufficient to act as an instrument for the principles of All under Heaven,” Chŏng points out that this is the opposite of the Buddhist concept of the mind as empty and therefore lacking moral principles (Chŏng T. 2015: 75–76). At the same time that Chŏng To-jŏn was using Zhu Xi’s ideas to discredit Buddhist philosophy, Kwŏn Kŭn 權近 (1352–1409) was trying to help younger Confucian scholars understand Zhu’s new approach to reading the Confucian Classics, particularly his moral metaphysics. In 1390, when Zhu Xi’s ideas were just starting to be absorbed by Koreans, Kwŏn used diagrams to try to explain this more philosophical approach to Confucianism to young men he described as “beginning students” (Ralston 2001: 91–92). Those diagrams, along with his explanations of them and his answers to questions those students asked him about them, are available in his Diagrammatic Explanations for Entering the Path of Learning (Iphak tosŏl 入學圖說). Those diagrams, along with Kwŏn’s comments on them, not only reveal the difficulties some Koreans had in the late fourteenth century understanding Zhu Xi’s approach to the Confucian Classics, they also foreshadow some major modifications Koreans later introduced to Zhu’s ideas. The first diagram, and the most important, is called “Heaven and Man, Mind and Nature, Combine as One.” In this diagram, Kwŏn manages to encapsulate Zhu Xi’s major teachings about human nature and how defining principle, vital energy, the Five Constant Virtues, and the Seven Emotions relate to it, and relate to each other as well. That diagram is drawn in the rough shape of a human being. At the top there is a circular head inside which is inscribed the word heaven (tian 天) and, below it, the word integrity (cheng 誠). Near the middle of the diagram, directly above the heart-and-mind (xin 心), is the phrase “the origin of defining principles” and directly above that is the character for “what is mandated” (ming 命), linking what is mandated by heaven with defining principles. Slightly further down is the heart-and-­ mind, drawn in the shape of the character for heart-and-mind (xin 心) and placed in the center of the diagram. Inscribed inside the strokes of the heart-and-mind character are the word nature (xing 性) along with the characters for the Five Constant Virtues of righteousness, benevolence, properity, wisdom, and faithfulness. Since

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Fig. 31.1  First Diagram from Diagramatic Explanations for Entering the Path of Learning. Kwŏn: 9; English translation from Kalton 1987: 14

they are directly below the phrase “the origin of defining principles,” they are linked with li. Below them, but still within the heart-and-mind, are written the characters for the Seven Emotions of desire, dislike, love, fear, sorrow, anger, and joy, which are linked with qi as their origin. On one shoulder of that human figure, on the right side, Kwŏn placed the word “vital energy” (qi 氣) and on the other shoulder the word “matter” (zhi 質). Under “vital energy” are the basic virtues as well as the same word “integrity” that appeared in the head. On the other side of the body, on the leg under the word “matter,” are the emotions produced by selfish human desires with a note explaining that they lead to a human being deteriorating to the level of a mere animal. The main departure in this rough outline of a human body from what a human actually looks like is a line connecting the two legs. In the middle of that line is a circle contained the words “mindfulness: that which the superior person cultivates by being vigilant over his own thoughts and actions even when he is not being observed.” Mindfulness (jing 敬) is, of course, a key term from the Classics that Zhu Xi highlighted as essential to an individual’s cultivation of a moral character (Kwŏn: 9; Kalton 1985: 108–9; Kalton 1987:14) (Fig. 31.1).3

 An English translation of Diagrammatic Explanations for Entering the Path of Learning (Iphak tosŏl 入學圖說) is available in Kalton (1987:14). 3

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It is important to note that, in this diagram, we can see Kwŏn drawing a clear distinction between defining principles and vital energy, and also between vital energy and matter, and using those distinctions to explain why human beings sometimes act appropriately but at other times act inappropriately. His diagrammatic linkeage of defining principles with the Five Constant Virtues, and of vital energy and matter with selfish emotions, sets the stage for the growing emphasis in Korean Neo-Confucian thought in the centuries that followed on the role of defining principles in generating appropriate behavior and the role of vital energy in generating inappropriate thoughts and behavior. A couple of pages later, he provides another diagram but this one is much simpler. It shows only the character for human being, with the word “defining principles” placed above it, plus the word “moral good” on its right side and “evil” on its left. That is followed on the very next page by a slightly more complicated diagram. It has the character for heart-and-mind in the middle and above it two phrases: “that which originates from defining principles” on the right and “that which originates from vital energy” on the left. To the right of the character for heart-and-mind is a character meaning “subtle” (wei 微) and to the left is a character meaning “dangerous” (wei 危) Next to those two large characters are their explanations, drawn from a famous phrase in the “Counsels of the Great Yu” section of the Shujing 書經, which Zhu Xi had placed particular emphasis on (Shujing II:15). The explanation for “subtle” reads “the feelings within the Dao mind are hard to discern, hence they are called subtle.” The explanation for “dangerous” reads “the intentions within the human mind will lead you astray, hence they are called dangerous” (Kwŏn 12–13 Ralston 2001: 101–6) (Figs. 31.2 and 31.3). Kwŏn’s point is clear. Zhu Xi, as Kwŏn understood him, explained how human beings can be the moral human beings they should be, and why they so often fail to do so. In these diagrams, Kwŏn is trying to help his students understand Zhu Xi’s explanation. However, he is also working within a culture that, because it had just begun to move away from Buddhist dominance of intellectual life, was more interested in the psychology of moral thoughts and actions and of the role emotions, intentions, and feelings played in them, as well as in the effect defining principles and vital energy had on whether emotions, intentions, and feelings were appropriate

Fig. 31.2  Diagram of two sides of human beings. Kwŏn: 12

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Fig. 31.3  Diagram of the human heart-and-mind. Kwŏn: 13

or not, than was typical of Zhu Xi or those in China who shared his approach to Confucianism. The concern for moral psychology that shaped the Korean adoption and adaptation of Zhu Xi’s teachings grew out of a greater emphasis on moral frailty in Korea than was usual in China. Zhu Xi’s teachings were given a psychological twist in Korea because Korean Confucians were influenced by the emphasis in Korean Buddhism on how difficult it was to become truly enlightened in both thought and action. Korean Buddhism since the time of Chinul in mid-Koryŏ had been dominated by the assumption that, even after a person had been enlightened to the true nature of reality, that person had to discipline himself for a long time afterwards in order to train his body to act in accordance with his enlightenment. This idea that sudden enlightenment had to be followed by gradual cultivation appears to reflect a greater sensitivity on the part of Koreans to human moral frailty, even though they were taught by both Buddhism and Confucianism that human beings were born with the ability to become morally perfect through their own efforts. That sensitivity to human moral frailty influenced their understanding of Zhu Xi’s teachings (Baker 2001). The problem of moral frailty was made worse by the assumption, originating in Buddhism but elaborated on in the Neo-Confucian concept of li, that everything is connected to everything else. Such interconnectedness made it more difficult to explain moral frailty. If our human nature is li, and li is essentially nothing more

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than the principles of appropriate interactions, as Zhu Xi taught, then why do human beings find it so difficult to consistently act appropriately in harmony with all the people and things they interact with? After all, are not we all already intertwined with the people and things around us through the all-encompassing network of li? Rather than blaming inadequacies in our bodies, our psychophysical endownment, for our moral failures, as was common in China, Koreans instead looked into their hearts-and-mind and, noticing both selfless tendencies and selfish emotions originating there, came to believe that an inability to understand and manage emotions was the prime cause of moral frailty.

3 Koreanizing the Teachings of Zhu Xi In the late fourteenth and early fifteenth centuries, Chŏng To-jŏn and Kwŏn Kŭn were grappling with Neo-Confucian ideas they both recognized as new imports from China. It took more than a century, into the sixteenth century, before Koreans learned enough about Zhu Xi’s thought to feel comfortable enough with it to recognize its ambiguities and then try to clarify those ambiguities on their own. The first Korean to absorb all of Zhu Xi’s philosophy and then use it to create his own philosophy was Yi Hwang 李滉 (1501–1570), better known as T’oegye 退溪. At the age of 19, he was able to obtain a copy of the Great Compendium of Human Natue and Defining Principle (Xingli Daquan 性理大全). Then, over 20  years later in 1543, the Complete Works of Master Zhu (Zhuzi Daquan 朱子大全) became available in Korea, and he was able to study that as well. He was so impressed by what Zhu Xi had to say that he compiled his own collection of what he considered the most important of Zhu’s letters. Yi’s Essentials of Master Zhu’s Correspondence (Chujasŏ choryo 朱子書節要), which he began sharing with his fellow Koreans in 1558, established Yi’s reputation as Korea’s leading authority on the philosophy of Zhu Xi (Chung 2016: 6–9). T’oegye did not limit himself to reading only Zhu Xi, his immediate predecessors, and his loyal disciples. He also read the latest Confucian philosophy from Ming China. He was not impressed. T’oegye’s negative reaction to the philosophy of Wang Yangming ensured that Zhu Xi’s version of Neo-Confucianism would define the limits of acceptable Confucian philosophy in Korea for the rest of the Chosŏn dynasty. T’oegye could not accept Wang’s arguments for the identity of the heart-and-­ mind and defining principle, the unity of knowledge and conduct, or innate knowledge of the good. T’oegye also rejected Wang’s suggestion that there was no need to engage in the exhaustive study of defining principles in external things and events that Zhu Xi had demanded, because he did not share Wang’s assumption that defining principles resided completely within our own minds. In addition, T’oegye argued that Wang Yangming was wrong in challenging some of Zhu Xi’s interpretations of the Classics, particularly those dealing with The Great Learning (Daxue 大學). T’oegye charged that Wang’s suggested emendations to Zhu Xi’s

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c­ ommentaries were not only a distortion of the original meanings of the characters under dispute but also would lead to a denial of Confucian moral principles. As T’oegye saw it, Wang’s stress on truth within, on innate knowledge of the good, was dangerously one-sided and self-centered. T’oegye wrote that unless subjective insights into defining principles were confirmed with the objective principles in the external world, the original impartial heart-and-mind that alone makes human beings truly human would be lost. T’oegye cautioned that Wang Yangming would have human beings turn inward, as the Zen Buddhists do, rather than reaching outward with their moral strength, as good Confucians should do (Yi 1985: [41] 23b–31b; Kŭm 1982: 209–18). Wang Yangming’s perceived etymological errors when he disagreed with Zhu Xi’s readings of the Classics disturbed T’oegye less than the psychological and behavioral implications of those errors. Wang, T’oegye insisted, was not only incorrect, his teachings were morally dangerous and had to be condemned alongside those of Mozi, Yang Zhu, Buddha, and Laozi. In other words, they were heretical. Though T’oegye called for fidelity to Zhu Xi’s readings of the Classics, he ended up clarifying some of the ambiguities in Zhu Xi’s writings and in the process came to some conclusions that moved Zhu Xi’s philosophy in a new direction. One reason for his departure from a strictly literal reading of Zhu Xi was that, although he read and wrote classical Chinese at a native speaker level, he spoke Korean and probably thought primarily in Korean as well. Korea has a grammatical structure that is much more complex than classical Chinese has. For example, it requires morphological markers to distinguish active verbs from passive verbs as well as subjects of sentences from objects of sentences. When T’oegye prepared a vernacular Korean edition of The Great Learning (the Korean alphabet had been invented around half a century before T’oegye was born), he had to choose beween two possible readings of certain statements in Zhu Xi’s commentary in order to decide where to place those grammatical markers. Of particular concern was Zhu Xi’s reading of the phrase “the investigation of things.” Zhu Xi explained that phrase as meaning that there are no defining principles of things that cannot be thoroughly investigated (Johnston and Wang 2012: 139). T’oegye added the grammatical marker for an object after “things,” which narrows the meaning slightly to emphasize the things being investigated rather than the investigatory process itself. The following phrase in The Great Learning, “things being investigated” has, in T’oegye’s first Korean reading, a grammatical marker indicating “at” added to “things,” implying that defining principles reach out from the heart-and-mind to the things investigated. Later he read that phrase differently, saying that it actually should be understood as saying that the defining principles in things move toward and reach the investigating mind (Yun 1990: 34–40). T’oegye’s reading of The Great Learning builds on Zhu Xi’s insertion of defining principles into that text but in a way that gives those defining principles independent power. Rather than seeing them as dependent on vital energy for activation, T’oegye sees defining principles moving out to things without vital energy propelling them to investigate those things, and also sees the defining principles in things operating on their own to arrive at the human heart-and-mind. This more dynamic

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view of defining principles, a distinctive feature of T’oegye’s philosophy, laid the foundation for a distinctive reading of Zhu Xi that shaped Korean Confucian philosophy for the rest of the Chosŏn dynasty (Tu 1982). It may be true, as some Korean scholars have claimed, that T’oegye misunderstood Zhu Xi, who never explicitly granted li the ability to operate independently (Kim Y. 2017). If that is the case, then the question arises: Why did T’oegye grant more independence to li than Zhu Xi had? Grammatical differences between classical Chinese and Korean may not have been the only reason. Another reason may lie in his greater concern for the psychology behind human behavior, coupled with his concern over human moral frailty. T’oegye’s concern with moral psychology is revealed in the special attention he devoted to the Annotations to the Classic of the Heart-and-Mind (Xinjing fuzhu 心 經附註) (Yi 1985: [41] 11b–16a). That collection of annotations by Cheng Minzheng 程敏政 (1445–1499) to the compilation by Zhen Dexiu 真德秀 (1178–1235) of extracts from earlier Confucian works on the psychology of moral cultivation was, of course, known to Confucian scholars in both China and Japan but T’oegye elevated it much higher than was usually done in neighboring countries. He hailed it as equal in value to the Four Books or the Jinsilu 近思錄 (Kim H. 2007: 169–70). His high regard for that work influenced Korean Confucians for the next three centuries. Both those who looked to Yi Hwang for philosophical inspiritation as well as the followers of the other giant of Zhu Xi philosophy in sixteenth century Korea, Yulgok 栗谷 Yi I 李珥 (1536–1584), often drew on Xinjng fuzhu to support their arguments about the best way to cultivate a heart-and-mind that would not only recognize the appropriate way to behave but would direct the body to act in accordance with that recognition (Hong 2008).

3.1 T’oegye and the Four–Seven Debate The centrol role moral psychology played in Yi Hwang’s understanding of Zhu Xi’s philosophy is even more evident in his initiation of what is known today as the Four–Seven debate, the debate over the relationship of li and qi to the Four Sprouts of Virtue (siduan 四端, i.e., the natural tendencies to commiseration, shame, modesty, and moral judgment) and the Seven Emotions (qiqing 七情, i.e., desire, dislike, love, fear, sorrow, anger, and joy). When T’oegye insisted on a clear demarcation between the Four Sprouts, which he explained as generated by li, and the Seven Emotions, which he explained as manifestations of qi, he revealed that he was not simply absorbing and repeating Zhu Xi’s ideas but was also modifying them. Zhu Xi’s approach to moral cultivation focuses on reinforcing the li (the defining patterns of appropriate interactions) that constitute our heart-and-mind by linking that internal li with the li in the objects and events in the external world we interact with. T’oegye, on the other hand, focused on reinforcing the power of li to direct our thoughts and behavior by clearly distinguishing between the li of our ­heart-and-­mind

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and the qi (the dynamic stuff that constitutes the material realm, including the entirety of our bodies) it was embedded within. In contrast to its role in T’oegye’s philosophy, in Zhu Xi’s writings li itself appears to be the absolute, that which defines what is truly real and moral and also defines what is inappropriate and therefore is not fully real. For T’oegye, on the other hand, it is the heart-and-mind, in its functioning as the Dao Mind, the mind of the Proper Way, that is the absolute. T’oegye emphasizes in the sixth diagram of his Ten diagrams on Sage Learning (Sŏnghak shipto 聖學十圖) that the heart-and-­ mind commands both human nature and human feeling, and presides over the entire person (Kalton 1988: 119–41). Since human nature was defined as constituted by li, that means that the heart-and-mind commands li. What T’oegye is telling us here is that, without the heart-and-mind actualizing li so that it directs human feelings, li would have no effect on the world around us. Therefore it is the heart-and-mind, essential for li to operate, that is the absolute moral force in the cosmos. That is clear in T’oegye’s famous formula for relating li and qi to the Four Sprouts and the Seven Emotions: “In the case of the Four Sprouts of virtue, li issues them and qi follows along, while in the case of the Seven Emotions, qi issues them and li rides along” (Kalton 1994: 64). The heart-and-mind bears responsibility for determining whether li or qi is in charge of the sentiments and feelings that motivate human behavior, since, as T’oegye notes in the eight diagram in Sŏnghak shipto, “the heart-and-mind is the master of the entire person” (Kalton 1988: 161). In T’oegye’s moral psychology, it is the heart-and-mind which cultivates li-generated sentiments, and controls qi-generated feelings. T’oegye is sometimes described as putting more stress on li than Zhu Xi did (Yun 1990: 211–35). That is correct in that T’oegye, with his assertion that li generates the fundamental virtuous sentiments of commiseration, shame, modesty, and moral judgment, portrays li as more active than Zhu Xi does. However, it is the li of the heart-and-mind, not the li of the external world, that is generating those sentiments that inspire moral action. T’oegye’s belief that the heart-and-mind dominates li and not the other way around is clarified in the sixth diagram of Sŏnghak shipto, in whch T’oegye wrote “The heart-and-mind unites li and qi” (Kalton 1988, 122). This phrase confirms that T’oegye placed the heart-and-mind above li. T’oegye may have moved from li toward the heart-and-mind as the absolute because of his concern for an effective way to cultivate a moral character. First of all, he may have felt a need for a more substantial object of his efforts toward self-­ cultivation. Li, as T’oegye was well aware, was not a thing. Instead it was simply the patterns that determined how things should interact. Therefore, he may have concluded, it would be more effective to focus on the ability of the heart-and-mind to stimulate a person to act in accordance with those defining principles than to focus on the principles themselves. His slight modification of the philosophy he learned from Zhu Xi may also have been due to the greater consciousness of human moral frailty we see in Korean philosophy in general, which may have led him to focus more on that which actually originated moral action. That organ of volition is, of course, the heart-and-mind, which commands both human nature and human feelings. Even though T’oegye

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argued that moral sentiments were generated by li, it was the heart-and-mind that governed human nature (which T’oegye understood as li). It was the heart-and-­ mind, therefore, that determined whether li generated moral sentiments or whether instead qi generated selfish impulses. T’oegye was, of course, aware that li was not something that existed on its own. He knew it could function only because it was embedded in qi. Because li functioned within qi, Zhu Xi had recommended the investigation of things and events as an effective method for identifying and linking up with li. T’oegye recognized the moral benefits to be gained from the investigation of things. In fact, that is why he criticized Wang Yangming. He felt that Wang, by focusing inward, failed to take into account that li is about interactions between our heart-and-mind and what is external to our heart-and-mind and therefore we need to be conscious of li as operating in both environments. However, more than the investigation of things, T’oegye emphasized “abiding in mindfulness” (Kŏgyŏng/jujing 居敬) (J. Kang 2015). T’oegye believed that cultivating mindfulness allowed us to focus on distinguishing between li and qi in both our bodies and our hearts-and-minds. After clearly distinguishing between them, we could use our heart-and-mind to ensure that qi was marginalized when our heart-and-mind was generating motivations, sentiments, and feelings and that instead li was able to ensure that appropriate motivations and sentiments shaped our behavior. T’oegye’s main concern was to allow li to play its essential role of motivating us to think and act the way we should think and act, and he believed an emphasis on the heart-and-mind would help him do that. T’oegye did not link the relationship between li and qi to the differences between the Four Sprouts and the Seven Emotions to make a philosophical point about the ultimate nature of reality. He was offering practical advice, encouraging those trying to cultivate a moral character to beware of feelings such as joy, anger, love, or hate which reflect self-interest and to cultivate instead feelings such as commiseration and shame which show a regard for others. T’oegye asserted that “in the case of the Four Sprouts of virtue, li issues them and qi follows along,” in order to warn his disciples to beware of selfish desires even when they were motivated primarily by moral impulses. At the same time T’oegye did not want them to become too pessimistic about the possibility of acting morally, adding to his warnings about selfishness being able to contaminate the noblest of motives the consolation that “in the case of the Seven Emotions, qi issues them and li rides along.” In other words, even when a person was moved by less altruistic emotions, he or she could still direct those emotions to the common good.

3.2 Yulgok and the Four–Seven Debate T’oegye drew a sharp line between li and the Four Sprouts, on one hand, and qi and the Seven Emotions on the other to point out that it is essential that we clearly distinguish emotions (the Four Sprouts) which move us to act properly from those emotions (the Seven Emotions) which can mislead us into putting our individual

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interests ahead of the interests and needs of others. Yi I, better known as Yulgok, thought that T’oegye had gone too far, however. After all, the ultimate objective of Neo-Confucians remained overcoming division in order to act in unison with the cosmic moral pattern of appropriate interrelationships (li). Yulgok feared that T’oegye’s analytical scalpel would hinder more than it helped moral progress, since once fissures are introduced, unity is difficult to restore. In Yulgok’s view, T’oegye’s focus on the dangers caused by qi undermined an energizing vision of underlying unity and made moral union through harmonious engagement with the world a more elusive goal. After all, as Yulgok saw it, morality requires moral action, and moral action can only take place in a world formed from qi. Yulgok offered concrete examples of the moral efficacy of the qi realm. He pointed out that the virtue of loyalty is a response to the difference between a subject and his ruler. Likewise, filial piety is a response evoked by the distinction between a son and his parents. Without the differences between subjects and rulers and between children and parents, the virtues of loyalty and filial piety could not exist. Yet those differences arise from the individualizing effect of qi. As Yulgok noted, li is universal, penetrating everywhere, but qi is limited and limiting, forming specific individual configurations (Kalton 1994: 174–77). Therefore virtues such as loyality and filial piety are not generated by li, as T’oegye would have it, but are the product of differences created by the individualizing force of qi in the physical world (Yi 1958: [10] 6a–b). Moreover, as Yulgok saw it, the human mind is just one mind, which both generates feelings and emotions and tries to direct those feelings and emotions to accord with li. T’oegye’s approach splits human beings in half, putting the original nature in the east and the physical nature in the west. If we accept his analysis, we would also have to separate the moral mind from the human mind, saying that the moral mind originates in the east and that the human mind originates in the west. Does that make any sense? … Such wild talk, at odds with the way things really are, can only lead to behavior equally off the mark.… Positing such a split in human nature actually makes it much more difficult to act appropriately in our relationships with our fellow human beings. (Yi 1958: [10] 29b–30a)

Instead, Yulgok insisted, it is better to think of all human sentiments and emotions as generated by qi and to recognize that acting morally requires not separate generation by li but direction by li of those emotions and sentiments generated by qi. In his view, that is a more accurate, and therefore more effective, way to ensure that we act properly at all times. He also insisted that this is more faithful to what Zhu Xi taught. Besides, he argued, we cannot talk about li generating anything because li is inert. Since li can be found in every nook and cranny of the universe, it is incapable of movement, for movement implies movement from one place to another, and li, since it is everywhere, has no place to move. How could a universal, all-­ comprehensive defining pattern move? All movement that occurs must be movement guided by the pattern rather than movement of the pattern. Since that defining pattern is nothing other than a dynamic network of appropriate interactions, the defining pattern determines what moves and what direction and orientation

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­ ovements should take. But the defining pattern itself, as defining pattern, is m unchangeable and therefore immovable (Yi 1958: [10] 25b–27b). T’oegye and Yulgok argued within the parameters established by the philosophy of Zhu Xi. They were not challenging Zhu Xi but instead were trying to understand him better. T’oegye tried to understand Zhu Xi from a standpoint of moral psychology. He thought that conceiving of moral sentiments and questionable emotions as having different origins would help him better distinguish between them in deciding which feeling and emotions to cultivate and which to control and suppress. Yulgok, on the other hand, was concerned more with moral action than with the psychology behind such action. His moral vision focused on harmonizing interactions with the world around the moral actor and therefore he emphasized commonalities both within human beings and between human beings and the world they interacted with. Yulgok’s approach has been described as “cosmoanthropic” because he conceived of human beings as situated within the world rather than apart from it (Ro 2017). The debate sparked by Yulgok’s disagreement with T’oegye on the role of li in generating moral sentiments continued for the remaining three centuries of the Chosŏn dynasty. Late in the eighteenth century one Korean Confucian scholar, Chŏng Yag-yong 丁若鏞 (1762–1836), tried to harmonize those opposing positions by pointing out that T’oegye focused on the moral psychology behind the cultivation of a moral character, while Yulgok focused on li and qi as cosmic forces, so they were not so much disagreeing as they were using those terms in different ways (Chŏng Y. 1992: [I: 12] 17a–18a). However, he failed to persuade his contemporaries and the Korean Neo-Confucian world continued into the early twentieth century to be split between those who favored T’oegye’s reading of Zhu Xi and those who favored Yulgok’s reading. Few, however, ventured beyond the boundaries established by the notion that Zhu Xi’s writings determined what was legitimate Confucian discourse and what was not.

4 The Dominance of Zhu Xi in Chosŏn Confucian Philosophy In the seventeenth century, in the aftermath of the Japanese invasions of the 1590s and the Manchu invasions of the 1620s and 1630s, the hold Zhu Xi orthodoxy had on Chosŏn intellectual life hardened under the firm hand of Song Si-yŏl 宋時烈 (1607–1689), the leader of a faction of scholars and government officials who saw themselves as disciples of Yulgok (Kwak 1996). Song felt that, in the aftermath of the Manchu seizure of China, Korea had to assume responsibility for preserving true Confucianism, which he defined as what was found in the Five Classics, the Four Books, and the writings of Zhu Xi (Haboush 1999: 97). Song, and his disciples as well, attacked anyone they felt had deviated from what they felt was the only authentic form of Confucianism as “Despoilers of the Way” and “Insulters of the Sages.” Among those who were attacked for their perceived disloyalty to Zhu Xi were three

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of the most original thinkers of the sixteen and early seventeenth centuries: Yun Hyu 尹鑴 (1617–1680), Pak Se-dang 朴世堂 (1629–1703), and Ch’oe Sŏk-chŏng 崔錫鼎 (1646–1715). Yun, Pak, and Ch’oe offended hardline proponents of Zhu Xi orthodoxy in two ways. They disagreed with some of Zhu Xi’s ritual prescriptions and they disagreed with some of Zhu Xi’s interpretations of the Four Books. They claimed that they were following Zhu Xi’s example by using their own minds to understand what the Classics said rather than simply memorizing what others before them had said they mean. That was seen as arrogant by those who believed Zhu Xi should have the final word on what the Classics meant. Yun Hyu paid with his life for his challenge to Song Si-yŏl’s insistence on strict adherence to the words of Zhu Xi. Pak and Ch’oe were not executed, but they were publicly censured and, after their deaths, their writings were destroyed (Haboush 1999). More fortunate were the few Koreans who displayed a positive attitude toward the ideas of Wang Yangming. They were dismissed as somewhat eccentric but did not face official punishment or condemnation for their deviation from the philosophical norm, even though the philosophy of Wang Yangming had been considered unacceptable since T’oegye condemned it in the sixteenth century. Ch’oe Myŏng-gil 崔鳴吉 (1586–1647) and Chŏng Che-du 鄭齊斗 (1649–1736) were able to pursue their approach to scholarship out of the limelight. As a result, they did not have much influence on the philosophical currents of Chosŏn Korea, but neither did they suffer the sort of harsh condemnations that befell Yun Hyu, Pak Se-dang, and Ch’oe Sŏk-chŏng, probably because they did not become involved in the sort of ritual disputes that Yun, Park, and Ch’oe had become caught up in (Chung 1996). Those Korean followers of Wang Yangming did not hide their discontent with the dominance of Zhu Xi’s philosophy. However, they sometimes argued that they were more faithful to the spirit of Zhu Xi than were those who bragged that they were faithful followers of Zhu Xi. For example, Chŏng Che-du wrote: There is nothing wrong with what Zhu Xi says. It is just that, in advocating that we extend our knowledge as far as we can, he proposes a more indirect route over the direct, a slower approach rather than a faster one. Essentially, he differs from Wang Yangming in preferring an analytical over an integrative approach, that’s all. The end result of Zhu Xi’s philosophy is the same as that of the Sages. What could possibly be wrong with that? Some of those who followed him, however, have missed his main point. In fact, they have missed his main point so badly that today those who discuss Zhu Xi are not discussing the real Zhu Xi at all but a fake Zhu Xi instead. No, not even a fake Zhu Xi but a distorted Zhu Xi. They use the respected name of Zhu Xi to win legitimacy for their own personal philosophies. (Chŏng C. 1989: II: 41, as translated in Peter H. Lee 1996: 284–85)

More typical of Confucian scholars in the second half of the Chosŏn dynasty were those who explicitly took Zhu Xi, as understood by the Korean mainstream, as their guide but argued with each other about what Zhu Xi meant. In the seventeenth century a dispute broke out among two followers of Yulgok’s approach to Zhu Xi that almost equals in importance the Four–Seven debate. The disagreement beween Yi Kan 李柬 (1677–1727) and Han Wŏn-jin 韓元震 (1682–1751), often described as a debate over whether human nature and the nature of animals were the same

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nature or were different, centered on how to interpret what Zhu Xi wrote about the mind in its unaroused state, before it became engaged with the world around it (Ivanhoe 2016). In particular, they focused on whether the unaroused mind was li only or was li mixed with qi, something Zhu Xi had not clarified to their satisfaction (Yoo 2017). Han originated the dispute when he asserted that human nature was unique, and not the same as the nature shared by animals and other things. He insisted that human beings are endowed with a superior form of qi and thus have the potential to be fully virtuous, while animals receive only a partial endowment of qi and cannot be expected to display the virtues of humanity, righteousness, propriety, and wisdom. Even though Han argued that that all human minds are constituted by both li and high quality qi, as Yulgok had assumed, he asserted that only sages are born with such high quality qi that their li easily shines through. For the rest of us, he insisted, to be virtuous is not natural. We have to rise above the rest of the material world and resist the pull of our qi-based animal nature if we are to maintain self-­ control and live moral lives. Yi Kan (1677–1727) countered that human nature was li and therefore was the same as the nature of animals and all other beings. Yi focused more on the common moral pattern of appropriate relationships that binds all existing things together than on how human beings differ from animals and other objects. He also insisted that the mind was pure and clear in its quiescent and pre-activated state and that this essential goodness carries over into the activated, engaged mind. Otherwise, he worried, without that spillover from our innate reservoir of altruism, how could our selfish tendencies be brought under control? (R. Kim 2017). Han and Yi were arguing within the parameters of Zhu Xi’s philosophy over the origins of good and evil in human behavior. Han allowed room for human moral frailty by focusing not on the good (li), which penetrated everywhere and permeated everything, but on the universal intermingling of li and qi which meant that no place was safe from the selfish tendencies qi could generate. Yi Kan, on the other hand, insisted that underneath the superficial differences and divisions that separate one human being from another and human beings from animals, there was an underlying fundamental unity of universal li. More optimistic than Han, Yi Kan concluded that the self-discipline necessary for moral behavior required only that li be allowed to play its natural role of commander, so that commonality would overcome fragmentation. Rather than blaming qi, Yi concentrated instead on letting li function unhindered. He feared that Han’s approach, by assuming that both li and qi were present in the unaroused mind, would limit the realm in which li reigned and would make self-control seem too difficult and unnatural. When Chosŏn Neo-Confucians debated the relationship between li and qi, and the Four Sprouts and the Seven Emotions, in the heart-and-mind in its unaroused state, they were not trying to determine how human nature should be defined in the abstract. They were seeking answers to questions that arose in their daily life. They wanted to know how they could eliminate selfishness from their thoughts and act in accordance with Confucian moral principles. Some found grounds for moral optimism, others for moral pessimism.

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They were asking how natural was it to be virtuous, to put the interests of neighbors and state ahead of self-interest, to do what is best for the group rather than what is best for oneself. They all agreed that on the need for self-control, for the moral mind to control selfish emotions. They disputed how easy that task was and how best it could be accomplished. How much could the world, and the way our emotions reacted to it, be trusted? Is there nothing but wellsprings of goodness within or could selfishness ensnare us even in a mind not yet aroused by the world outside?

5 Pushing the Boundaries of Zhu Xi’s Philosophy This concern with moral self-cultivation through self-discipline, combined with a growing sense of human moral frailty, led to a creative re-working of Zhu Xi’s philosophy in the late eighteenth- and early nineteenth century by Chŏng Yag-­ yong. Chŏng is frequently described today as the leading member of what is called the School of Practical Learning, which is often presented as a rejection of Zhu Xi’s ideas. Such a description is only half-correct. First of all, there was no “School of Practical Learning” in late Chosŏn-dynasty Korea, if by that is meant a group of scholars proudly wearing a label proclaiming that they shared a common practical philosophical orientation. Instead, a close examination of intellectual life in the second half of Korea’s Chosŏn dynasty reveals that there were a number of Confucian thinkers who added to the metaphysical and psychological concerns of their predecessors an additional concern for practical issues of statecraft and Korean cultural identity, though they did not agree on how to approach those issues and therefore did not constitute a separate and distinct school of thought. Moreover, those men varied in their attitudes toward Zhu Xi, with many of them being ardent adherents of the teachings of the Chinese sage. Even the most philosophically radical among them, Chŏng Yag-yong, did not totally reject Zhu Xi. He wrote commentaries on the Four Books that Zhu Xi had identified as such, used terminology that Zhu Xi had made central to Confucian philosophical discourse, and addressed many of the same questions that Zhu Xi had raised. Even when he criticized some of Zhu Xi’s ideas, he felt compelled to name him as the sources of those ideas and even to explicitly address Zhu Xi’s arguments, revealing that he was still working within a philosophical universe defined by Zhu Xi (Baker 2015). However, in his search for a more effective stimulus to the effort he believed was required to consistently think and act appropriately, Chŏng Yag-yong, better known as Tasan 茶山, rejected Zhu Xi’s emphasis on li. He wrote: If we treat our heaven-endowed conscience, human nature, the Dao, and the teachings of the sages as all simply different ways of referring to li, then, since li has no consciousness and therefore lacks the power to fill us with awe and apprehension, it cannot inspire us to be watchful over ourselves even when no one else knows what we are doing or thinking. (Chŏng Y. 1992: [II: 3] 5a)

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Tasan argued instead that we need to believe that the Lord on High (Shangdi上帝) can see every thought we think and every deed we do. If we constantly tell ourselves that the Lord on High is observing us every moment we are awake, Tasan insisted, then the caution and apprehension that gaze stimulates in us will inspire us to make the extra effort necessary to overcome our desires for personal pleasure and benefit and instead act in such a way as to promote the common good (Chŏng Y. 1992: [II: 3] 4b–5a). Tasan searched for an inspiration for appropriate behavior stronger than li because he had come to reject Zhu Xi’s argument that human nature is essentially moral. That, he believed, was far too optimistic because it was based on a fundamental misunderstanding of human nature. In a commentary on the Doctrine of the Mean (Zhongyong 中庸), Tasan explained that the line “what heaven has ordained is called human nature” should be interpreted in light of how Mencius uses the term “human nature.” Tasan argued that Mencius, as well as other ancient sources, clearly use that term to mean “human desires” (Chŏng Y. 1992 [II:3] 2b). That includes not only moral desires but also desires for physical pleasure and personal benefit. Tasan points out that those two desires, the desire for the common good and the desire for personal good, are often in conflict. For example, he pointed out that if someone offers us a gift that could be interpreted as a bribe and therefore we know it would be wrong to accept it, we are torn between a desire for the pleasure that gift would give us and the desire to act appropriately and decline it. Similarly, if we find ourselves in a difficult situation but we know we should deal with that situation, we nevertheless are tempted to simply flee and abdicate our responsibilities (Chŏng Y. 1992 [II: 6] 18b–19a). This conclusion that human beings, though they have only one human nature, are often conflicted leads him to the logical, though contrary to what Zhu Xi has suggested, conclusion that, for human beings, consistently acting appropriately is not natural. Such ethical virtuosity is not acquired at birth. In fact, he argues, no one can be said to actually act appropriately, to display ethical virtuosity, until he or she consistently acts in a virtuous manner. Virtue for Tasan is a product of human effort and action, not a pre-existing condition. Only after you act benevolently toward another human being can you be called benevolent. Only after you entertain a guest with proper etiquette can you be called polite. Only after you act properly can you be called righteous. And only after you show that you can distinguish between what is right and wrong, and then act accordingly, can you be called wise (Chŏng Y. 1992 [II: 5] 22a–23b).

6 Conclusion Tasan is evidence of a trend, starting in the sixteenth century with T’oegye, of Koreans internalizing the philosophy of Zhu Xi and making it their own. Though, at least before Tasan, they usually proclaimed their fidelity to Zhu Zi’s explanations

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of humanity and the universe, and accepted his moral metaphysics as axiomatic, Koreans nonetheless modified Zhu Zi’s ideas to better fit their concern for moral psychology and their greater sensitivity to human moral frailty. It is that concern, generated by the recognition of the contradiction between the Confucian assumption of human moral perfectibility and the reality of frequent moral failures, that led to the disputes between T’oegye and Yulgok over what role the Four Sprouts and the Seven Emotions should play in moral cultivation, and between Han Wŏn-jin and Yi Kan over how much of a sanctuary from evil our human nature provided. That same concern led to Tasan pushing li aside in favor of an anthropomorphic Lord on High as the primary impetus to moral action. Because their concern over human moral frailty led Korean Confucians to discuss issues that either were not as important or were not discussed in the same way in China and even led them to develop novel approaches to solving old Confucian issues, Koreans used the building blocks provided by the philosophy of Zhu Xi to build a Korean dwelling. Their search for an explanation of, and a solution to, the inevitability of human moral failure, of the inability of human beings, no matter how much they study the Confucian Classics and how well they understand them, to consistently act in a selfless manner, to act in the way their Confucian tradition tells them they should and could act, led them to construct a thoroughly Koreanized philosophy of Zhu Xi.

References4 Ahn, Juhn. 2009. “This Way of Ours: Buddhist Memorial Temples and the Search for Values During the Late Koryŏ Dynasty.” The Journal of the Korean Association of Buddhist Studies (Han’guk pulgyohak 韓國佛敎學) 54: 35–83. (A study of the shift from Buddhist ancestor memorial halls to Confucian ancestor shrines.) Baker, Don. 2001. “Danger Within: Guilt and Moral Frailty in Korean Religion.” Acta Koreana 4: 1–25. (An overview of the role of concern over moral frailty in all of Korea’s religions and traditional philosophies.) ———. 2015. “Pushing the Confucian Envelope: Tasan Chŏng Yagyong as a Man of, and not of, His Times.” Acta Koreana 18.1: 145–62 (An analysis of how much Tasan strayed from Neo-­ Confucian orthodoxy.) Bol, Peter K. 2008. Neo-Confucianism in History. Cambridge: Harvard University Press. (A survey of the impact Neo-Confucianism had on Chinese society.) Chŏng, Che-du 鄭齊斗. 1989. The Collected Works of Hagok Chŏng Che-du (Hagokchip 霞谷 集). Seoul: Minmun’go. (A collection of the writings of Korea’s greatest advocate of Wang Yangming’s ideas.) Chŏng, To-jŏn 鄭道傳. 2015. “An Array of Critiques of Buddhism (Pulssi chappyŏn 佛氏雜 辨).” Korea’s Great Buddhist–Confucian Debate, translated by A. Charles Muller. Honolulu: University of Hawai’i Press, 54–81. (This works includes translations of two early Chosŏn anti-Buddhist Confucian tracts along with one defence of Buddhism, accompanied by the original literary Chinese versions.)

 The collected works of the Confucian scholars discussed in this chapter, as well as the writings of hundreds more Korean Confucian philosophers, are available on-line, courtesy of the Korean Institute for the Translation of Korean Classics: http://db.itkc.or.kr 4

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Chŏng, Yag-yong 丁若鏞. 1992. The Complete Works of Yŭyudang Chŏng Yag-yong (Yŏyudang chŏnsŏ 與猶堂全書). Seoul: Yŏgang Ch’ulp’ansa. (A massive collection of commentaries on all the major Confucian classics, plus essays, letters, and book-length texts on government administration by one of the most creative Confucian philosophers in all Korean history.) Chung, Edward Y.J. 2016. A Korean Confucian Way of Life and Thought: The Chasŏngnok (Record of Self-Reflection) of Yi Hwang (T’oegye). Honolulu: University of Hawai’i Press. (A translation of an important record of philosophical reflections of one of Korea’s greatest Confucian philosophers.) Chung, In-chae 鄭仁在. 1996. “Chŏng Chedu (Hagok): The Father of the Yang-ming School in Korea.” In Haechang Choung and Han Hyong-jo, eds., Confucian Philosophy in Korea. Sŏngnam-si, Kyŏnggi-do: Academy of Korean Studies. (A study of Korea’s leading follower of Wang Yangming.) Deuchler, Martina. 1992. The Confucian Transformation of Korea: A Study of Society and Ideology. Cambridge: Harvard University Press. (A study more historical than philosophical of how the change from Buddhism to Neo-Confucianism as Korea’s dominant ideology changed family life and rituals on the peninsula.) Do, Hyeon-chul 都賢喆. 2017. “Analysis of Recently Discovered Late-Koryŏ Civil Service Examination Answer Sheets.” Korean Studies 41: 152–72. (A study of civil service examination essays before Korea absorded Neo-Confucianism.) Duncan, John B. 1994. “Confucianism in the late Koryŏ and Early Chosŏn.” Korean Studies 18: 76–102. (An analysis of various strands in Confucianism on the Korean peninsula just before and during the early stages of the adoption of Neo-Confucianism.) ———. 2000. The Origins of the Chosŏn Dynasty. Seattle: University of Washington Press. (A study of the ideological and social characteristics of the ruling classes in Koryŏ and early Chosŏn) Haboush, JaHyun Kim. 1999. “Despoilers of the Way—Insulters of the Sages: Controversies over the Classics in Seventeenth-century Korea.” In JaHyun Kim Haboush and Martina Deuchler, eds., Culture and the State in Late Chosŏn Korea. Cambridge: Harvard University Press. (An edited volume surveying religious and philosophical life in the second half of the Chosŏn dynasty) ———. 2005. “Contesting Chinese Time, Nationalizing Temporal Space: Temporal Inscription in Late Chosŏn Korea.” In Lynn A. Struve, ed., Time, Temporality, and Imperial Transition. Honolulu: University of Hawai’i Press. (A study of how the Manchu conquest of the Ming changed the way Koreans thought about China, and about time.) Han, Young-woo 韓永愚. 1985. “Kija Worship in the Koryŏ and Early Yi Dynasties: A Cultural Symbol in the Relationship Between Korea and China.” In Wm. Theodore de Bary and JaHyun Kim Haboush, eds., The Rise of Neo-Confucianism in Korea. New York: Columbia University Press. (This book surveys the emergence of a Korean Neo-Confucianism in the first half of the Chosŏn dynasty.) Hong, Wŏn-sik 洪元植. 2008. “Introduction: Xinjing fuzhu and Korean Confucianism (Ch’ongnon: Simgyŏng puju wa Chosŏn yuhak).” In HWANG Wŏn-sik, ed., Xinjing fuzhu and Korean Confucianism (Simgyŏng puju wa Chosŏn yuhak). Seoul: Yemun sŏwŏn. (A study of the influence the Classic of the Mind-and-Heart had on Korean Confucianism.) Ivanhoe, Philip J. 2016 “The Horak Debate.” In Philip J. Ivanhoe, ed., Three Streams: Confucian Reflections on Learning and the Moral Heart-Mind in China, Korea, and Japan. New York: Oxford University Press. (A study of the eighteenth-century debate over whether human nature and animal nature are the same.) Johnston, Ian and Wang Ping, trans,. and annot. 2012. Daxue and Zhongyong: Bilingual Edition. Hong Kong: Chinese University Press. (A useful translation of the Daxue and Zhongyong accompanied by the commentaries of Zheng Xuan, Kong Yingda, and Zhu Xi.) Kalton, Michael C. 1985. “The Writings of Kwŏn Kŭn: The Context and Shape of Early Yi Dynasty Neo-Confucianism.” In Wm. Theodore de Bary and JaHyun Kim Haboush, eds., The

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Rise of Neo-Confucianism in Korea. New York: Columbia University Press. (A study of the core philosophical assumptions of one of Korea’s first Neo-Confucians.) ———. 1987. “Early Yi Dynasty Neo-Confucianism: An Integrated Vision.” In Laurel Kendall and Griffin Dix, eds., Religion and Ritual in Korean Society. Berkeley: Institute of East Asian Studies, University of California. (A study of the religiosity of Kwŏn Kŭn, an early Korean Neo-Confucian.) ———. 1988. To Become a Sage: The Ten Diagrams on Sage Learning. New  York: Columbia University Press. (An annotated translation of one of Yi Hwang’s most important works.) ———. 1994. The Four–Seven Debate: An Annotated Translation of the Most Famous Controversy in Korean Neo-Confucian Thought. Albany: State University of New York Press. (An authoritative translation of the key letters that were exchanged in the early stages of the Four–Seven Debate.) Kang, Jinseok. 2015. “Yi T’oegye’s Reverent Seriousness (Kyŏng) and Philosophical Therapy” Dao 14: 107–28. (A study of the role reverent seriousness (mindfulness) plays in Yi Hwang’s philosophy.) Kim, Richard. 2017. “Human Nature and Animal Nature: The Horak Debate and Its Philosophical Significance.” In Youngsun Back and Philip J. Ivanhoe, eds., Traditional Korean Philosophy: Problems and Debates. New  York: Rowman and Littlefield. (A study of the debate over whether human nature and animal nature were the same and how that relates to the different roles of li and qi.) Kim, Hyoung-chan 金炯瓚. 2007. “Toegye’s Philosophy as Practical Ethics: A System of Learning, Cultivation, and Practice for Being Human.” Korea Journal 47.3: 160–85. (An argument that concern for moral practice led T’oegye to differ from Zhu Xi on certain key issues.) Kim, Kyung-ho 金慶浩. 2011. “A Study of Excavated Bamboo and Wooden-strip Analects: The Spread of Confucianism and Chinese Script.” Sungkyun Journal of East Asian Studies 11.1: 59–88. (A study of the earliest evidence for Confucianism in Korea.) Kim, Pu-sik 金富軾. 2012. The Silla Annals of the Samguk Sagi 三國史記, 新羅本紀, translated by Edward J. Shultz and Hugh H.W. Kang with Daniel C. Kane. Sŏngnam. Korea: Academy of Korean Studies. (A useful translation of the earliest extant history of Korea’s ancient Silla Kingdom.) Kim, Yung Sik 金永植. 2017. “Another Look at Yi Hwang’s Views about Li and Qi: A Case of Time Lag in the Transmission of Chinese Originals to Korea.” In Youngsun Back and Philip J. Ivanhoe, eds., Traditional Korean Philosophy: Problems and Debates. New York: Rowman and Littlefield. (An argument that the Four–Seven Debate originally arose because Koreans did not yet fully understand what Zhu Xi was saying.) Kŭm, Chang-t’ae 琴章泰. 1982. “T’oegye’s Criticism of Wang Yangming’s Philosophy (T’oegye ŭi Yangmyŏnghak pip’an).” In A Reexamination of Korean Confucianism (Han’guk yugyo ŭi chaejomyŏng 韓國儒敎의再照明). Seoul: Chŏngmangsa. (An analysis of the reasons T’oegye gave for rejecting Wang Yangming’s philosophy.) Kwak, Shin-Hwan 郭信煥. 1996. “Sŏng Siyŏl (Uam): The Philosophy of Righteousness in the Age of Resistance.” In Haechang Choung and Han Hyong-jo, eds., Confucian Philosophy in Korea. Sŏngnam-si, Kyŏnggi-do: Academy of Korean Studies. (A study of one of the staunchest advotes of Yulgok Yi’s approach to Neo-Confucianism.) Kwŏn, Kŭn 權近. n.d. Diagrammatic Explanations for Entering the Path of Learning 入學圖說. Nineteenth century edition. Available at https://archive.org/details/iphaktosolchonhu008800, courtesy of the Asami Collection in the Korean Rare Book Collection in the C.V. Starr East Asian Library at the University of California at Berkeley. (Kwŏn Kŭn’s record of his attempt to explain Neo-Confucianism when it was new to Korea.) Lee, Peter H. 1996. Sourcebook of Korean Civilization, vol. 2 of From the Seventeenth Century to the Modern Period. New York: Columbia University Press. Pak, Che-ga朴齊家. 1974. “An argument for Learning from the North 北學辨.” The collected writings of Pak Che-ga, along with A Discussion of Learning from the North, Complete 蕤集: 附北學義全. Seoul: T’amgudang. (A collection of writings by a member of what is sometimes called Korea’s “School of Practical Learning.”)

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Ralston, Michael K. 2001. “Ideas of Self and Self-Cultivation in Korean Neo-Confucianism.” Ph.D. Diss., University of British Columbia. (A study of Kwŏn Kŭn, T’oegye, and Yulgok.) Ro, Young-chan. 2017. “Yi Yulgok and His Contributions to Korean Confucianism: A Non-­ Dualistic Approach.” In Youngsun Back and Philip J.  Ivanhoe., eds., Traditional Korean Philosophy: Problems and Debates. New York: Rowman and Littlefield. (An argument that Yulgok’s non-dualistic approach led him to disagree with T’oegye.) Shujing. 1865. In The Shoo King (or The Book of Historical Documents), vol. 3 of The Chinese Classics, trans. by James Legge. London: Trübner & Co. Tu, Wei-ming. 1982. “T’oegye’s Creative Interpretation of Chu Hsi’s Philosophy of Principle.” Korea Journal 22.2: 4–15. (An argument that T’oegye’s interpretation was faithful to Zhu Xi’s philosophy and elaborated on its implications rather than diverging from it.) Xu, Jing 徐兢. 2016. A Chinese Traveler in Medieval Korea: Xu Jing’s Illustrated Account of the Xuanhe Embassy to Koryŏ 高麗圖經, translated and annotated by Sem Vermeersch. Honolulu: University of Hawai’I Press. (A fascinating glimpse at how Korea looked through Chinese eyes 900 years ago). Yi, Hwang 李滉. 1985. “Critique of Wang Yangming’s Instructions for Practical Living (Chŏnsŭnok nonbyŏn 傳習錄論辯).” In “Preliminary Thoughts upon Reading Chen Xianzhang and Wang Yangming” (Paeksa Sigyo Chŏnsŭnok ch’ojŏn insŏ kihu 白沙詩教傳習錄抄傳因書其後). A Collection of the Writing of T’oegye Yi Hwang (T’oegyejip 退溪集). Seoul: Sŏnggyun’gwan University Press. The complete T’oegyejip is available on-line at http://db.itkc.or.kr. (An indispensable resource for anyone wanting to understand Korean Neo-Confucianism) Yi, I 李珥. 1958. Yulgok Chŏnsŏ 栗谷全書 (The Complete Works of Yulgok Yi I). Seoul: Sŏnggyun’gwan Taehakkyo Taedong Munhwa Yŏn’guwŏn. (An indispensable resource for anyone wanting to understand Korean Neo-Confucianism.) Yoo, Weon-ki 兪原基. 2017. “The Significance of the Concept of Mibal 未發 in the Horak Debate.” Acta Koreana 20.1: 53–71. (An analysis of the role differences in how the unactivated mind is understood shaped the debate over human nature and animal nature.) Yun, Sa-soon 尹絲淳. 1990. Critical Issues in Neo-Confucian Thought: The Philosophy of T’oegye, translated by Michael C. Kalton. Seoul: Korea University Press. (An English translation of some of the most important articles on Yi Hwang by one of Korea’s leading Confucian philosophers in the second half of the twentieth century.) Don Baker is a professor of Korean civilization at the Department of Asian Studies, University of British Columbia. His research focuses on the philosophical and religious history of Korea from 1700 to the present day. Among his publications are Korean Spirituality and Catholics and AntiCatholicism in Chosŏn Korea. He is currently completing an annotated translation of a nineteenthcentury commentary on the Zhongyong by the Korean Confucian philosopher Chŏng Yag-yong.  

Chapter 32

Zhu Xi and Japanese Philosophy Eiho Baba

1 Introduction The Learning of Zhu Xi or Shushigaku 朱子学 was introduced to Japan in the early thirteenth century. However, it was never as widespread as it is generally assumed until the Kansei Edict of 1790 or the Prohibition of Heterodox Studies that proclaimed it as the official teaching at the Tokugawa shogunate’s schools, notably the later Shōheikō 昌平黌 (Shōhei School). Shushigaku was subsequently tied to written examinations primarily administered to heirs of the Tokugawa upper and lower vassals, which allowed them to receive promotions, acquire prestige, and, most importantly, seek new employments depending on their performances. In time, the Shushigaku curriculum was adopted in different degrees by an increasing number of feudal domain schools and private schools across the country, which contributed to its perceived predominance. This chapter focuses on the philosophical continuity and discontinuity between Zhu Xi and the Japanese Learning of Zhu Xi. Confucius says in Analects (Lunyu 論語) 2.15, “Learning without due reflection leads to perplexity; reflection without learning leads to perilous circumstances.” He explains why this is the case in Analects 13.5: “If people can recite all of these three hundred Songs and yet when given official responsibility, fail to perform effectively, or when sent to distant quarters, are unable to act on their own initiative, then even though they have mastered so many of them, what good are they to them?” Confucius argues that if we were to fall short in our reflection on learning to extend its relevance to novel circumstances, we would fail to deal with them effectively in a productive manner on our own. In our negligence to acclimate our learning to unfamiliar situations in “distant quarters,” he bodes, we would find their uncertainty perplexing E. Baba (*) Department of Philosophy and Department of Asian Studies, Furman University, Greenville, SC, USA e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2020 K.-c. Ng, Y. Huang (eds.), Dao Companion to ZHU Xi’s Philosophy, Dao Companions to Chinese Philosophy 13, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-29175-4_32

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and novelty perilous. One of the defining characteristics of the Learning of Zhu Xi in Japan, I suggest, is the dynamic interplay between its aspiration to establish continuity with Zhu Xi through meticulous learning of texts imported from China and Korea and its sustained effort to reflect upon this learning to appropriate Zhu Xi to the distant quarters of Japan. The appropriation, however, makes their reflected learning discontinuous with Zhu Xi, but it is also this discontinuity that allows for the forging of a new path, as it were, towards the construction of the very Japanese Shushigaku that it is. I examine the appropriation of Zhu Xi from two representative standpoints to illustrate how his philosophy was learned and reflected by the Japanese: (a) the Shushigaku of Yamazaki Ansai 山崎闇斎 (1618–1682) and the Kimon 崎門 (Yamazaki School) and (b) the so-called “anti-Shushigaku” of Itō Jinsai 伊藤仁斎 (1627–1705) and Ogyū Sorai 荻生徂徠 (1666–1728). I begin with Maruyama Masao 丸山真男 (1914–1996) and outline his influential reading of Shushigaku. He sees Shushigaku as a school of philosophy that demands rigorous study of Zhu Xi through reiteration, if not imitation with an unwavering dedication to his philosophy. Their primary goal, according to his view, is to transmit Zhu Xi’s philosophy as it is to establish a maximal continuity between Zhu Xi and themselves. For Maruyama, Ansai is the philosopher who exemplified this form of Shushigaku. The Kimon, reputed to have 6000 students, conducted frequent lectures on Shushigaku, which were published in colloquial Japanese with syllabary symbols. They also made their readings of Shushigaku widely available to the public by punctuating and publishing core Zhu Xi texts such as the Jade Mountain Lectures (Yushan jiangyi 玉山講義), the Reverence Study Exhortations (Jingzhaizhen 敬齋 箴), and the White Deer Grotto Academy Regulations (Bailudong shuyuan xuegui 白鹿洞書院學規). The vitality of the schools is such that it has survived through the Meiji era (1868–1912), which allowed his influence to extend into the twentieth century. The vast influence of Ansai and the Kimon on the dissemination and acceptance of Zhu Xi’s philosophy as Shushigaku in Japan is unmistakable and unparalleled. Following the exposition on Maruyama, I present Ansai’s view on reverence (jing 敬), which he takes to be the central method of self-cultivation contributive to the clarification of the five roles and relations. I then turn to Ansai’s incorporation of Shintō (a religious tradition native to Japan that focuses on ritual practices in veneration of ancestral and natural gods or kamis) into his novel interpretation of reverence. Ansai’s authoritative appropriation is an exemplary case to study not only because he is arguably the foremost and the most influential scholar of Zhu Xi in Japan, but more importantly because of his creative adaptation or translation, if you will, of Zhu Xi’s philosophy into his own rendering of Shushigaku that is decidedly unique. Since the Prohibition, Shushigaku has become the predominant philosophy of the land. What makes the Japanese learning of Zhu Xi meaningfully different beyond Ansai’s novel appropriation is the productive interaction between the Shushigaku establishment and novel philosophers who have developed their own philosophies through critical reflections on the received and the appropriated learning of Zhu Xi in Japan. Jinsai and Sorai are the prime examples. They both reject the assumption that nature (xing 性) is identical with li 理 (principle, coherence,

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patterns). In so doing, they also reject the assumption that the li is a repeatable universal that is multiply instantiated in humans as their unchanging nature. They argue for variability and uniqueness of natures or natural tendencies as shifting dispositions of qi, which imply for them that humans are diverse individuals with roles and relations situated in their own unique sets of circumstances. Both Jinsai and Sorai find cultivation methods such as reverence to be unduly individualistic. Jinsai argues that the development of national tendencies and nascent beginnings requires deference for individualities and stresses the importance of nurturing this deference by doing one’s utmost in empathizing with others. He maintains that cultivation is fundamentally interpersonal in that it must be conducted on and through everyday transactions with others. Sorai finds both Ansai and Jinsai to be myopic. He argues for a shift from the “minute” perspective of personal cultivation to the “grand” perspective of the way for realizing broad sociopolitical harmony that makes the most of its individual members and their unique talents to optimize their contributions to their societies. I present Jinsai and Sorai as further appropriations of Shushigaku insofar as their emergence is made possible by their learning of and reflections on Zhu Xi’s philosophy just like Ansai before them.

2 Maruyama Masao Discussions on Shushigaku and its influence on Japan as a philosophy must start from Inoue Tetsujirō 井上哲次郎 (1855–1944). His works are often not mentioned largely due to his propagandistic publications before and during the Second World War. However, it is important to recognize his contribution to the field of Japanese philosophy in selecting and identifying works by Japanese Confucians as genuine works of “philosophy” (tetsugaku 哲学), a term then recently translated and coined by Nishi Amane (1829–1897). It is also important to recognize his influence on the way Japanese Confucian philosophy is discussed today in terms of the three schools of philosophies in opposition: the Shushigakuha 朱子學派 (the Zhu Xi School), the Yōmeigakuha 陽明學派 (the Wang Yangming School), and the Kogakuha 古學 派 (the School of Ancient Learning). It can be argued that Inoue’s groundbreaking trilogy on Japanese philosophy (Inoue 1900, 1902, 1905) has been instrumental in building the basic scaffolding upon which subsequent scholarships on Shushigaku have been framed and studied over time. Inoue was the first Japanese chair and professor of philosophy at Tokyo Imperial University. With the prestige that comes with the position, his view on Shushigaku has become an authoritative view of the school for many. He writes: Although there are many branches in the [Zhu Xi] school, it is very simple and homogeneous. The [Zhu Xi] scholars merely described and propagated [Zhu Xi’s] theories. If any of these scholars had been so bold as to criticize or to attempt to present his own ideas, he would not have belonged to the [Zhu Xi] school. Anyone wishing to belong to the [Zhu Xi] school had to stick faithfully to [Zhu Xi’s] theories. In other words, he had to be [Zhu Xi’s] spiritual slave. As a result we can read volumes of [Zhu Xi] scholars’ works and find that they all say the same thing. (Inoue 1905: 598)

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Inoue argues that followers of Shushigaku were “spiritual slaves” that “worshipped” (sūhō 崇奉) Zhu Xi; they merely aspired and worked to “repeat” (jojutsu 叙述) and “reiterate” (fuen 敷衍) exactly what Zhu Xi wrote without presenting their own ideas or “creating their own views” (sōken 創見). In this sense, he concludes, Japanese Schools of Zhu Xi were “simple and homogeneous” despite the appearance of diversity. Maruyama quotes this passage in his monumental Studies in the History of Japanese Political Thoughts (Nihon seiji shisōshi kenkyū 日本政治思想史研究) (Maruyama 1952: 33). This is one of the most influential works on Tokugawa intellectual history that informs virtually all scholarly discussions on the subject today. His portrayal of Shushigaku and its followers largely reflects Inoue’s reading. Maruyama provides his interpretation of li in what he takes to be Zhu Xi’s “mode of thought”: The first point to consider is the nature of its basic notion, “Principle” (li). Principle is inherent in all things; it is the principle that governs movement and stillness, transformation and unity. Hence it is the law of nature. But it is also a principle inherent in man, his Original Nature. Hence it is the normative standard for human conduct. In other words, Principe in [Zhu Xi] philosophy is a moral as well as a physical law. [Zhu Xi] philosophy links natural law with moral norms. (Maruyama 1974: 26)

Maruyama points out that the li is said to be “inherent” in all things and events including humans as their “nature.” It is both the unchanging “laws of nature” and the fixed “normative standards” for human conducts; they are identical with each other. Insofar as they are unchanging and fixed, li and xing are what they are independent of their historical, geographical, and sociocultural contexts. Maruyama continues to show that the assumption that this li is inherent in all humans as their invariant nature leads to what he calls an “optimism” about what it means to be human: “In spite of this highly moralistic strain in [Zhu Xi] philosophy, its theory of human nature is not ethically imperative or idealistic in form, because its moral principle is also a physical principle, that is, because its ethics is a continuation of nature. Instead, a naturalistic optimism predominates” (Maruyama 1974: 28). He explains further: Both the sage and the ordinary person are endowed with Original Nature. Evil arises merely because impure and turbid Ether [qi 氣] obstructs it. As soon as the obstruction is removed, goodness, which is inherent in man, will be clearly revealed. This mode of thought is certainly optimistic; its standard of morality is not a transcendent concept but an intrinsic characteristic of man. (Maruyama 1974: 28)

Since the li is inherent in all humans as their nature, which is at once the laws of nature and the normative standards, humans can “reveal” the laws and the standards as their “intrinsic characteristics” by removing “obstructions” imposed upon them by the “impure and turbid” qi. This assumption, Maruyama says, allows the followers of the Shushigaku to adopt a “naturalistic optimism” about what humans are and what they can become. However, he adds, it is precisely this assumed optimism that makes Shushigaku the overtly “rigoristic” and “intolerant” mode of thinking that it is. He writes: “The statement that ‘everyone can become a sage’ reflects this optimism. It also gives rise to the belief that ‘as long as a person has

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faith and works strenuously, difficulties can be overcome and the Principle of Heaven realized’”1 (Maruyama 1974: 28). In other words, the optimism that “everyone can become a sage” implies that if one were to “work strenuously,” one would be able to remove the obstructions and become sagacious by realizing the unchanging laws and live in accordance to the fixed standards inherent in themselves. However, if one were to fail to “overcome the difficulties,” then the one ought to be blamed for not working strenuously enough to realize their “intrinsic characteristics” to become sagacious. In this way, Shushigaku’s optimism both demands excessive rigor from their followers and breeds intolerance for those who fail to meet and exceed their expectations for this rigorousness. Maruyama is clear about who is the representative follower of this Shushigaku that exemplifies this putative optimism and its accompanying rigorousness and intolerance; it is Ansai and his school, the Kimon.2 For instance, he specifies that “when currents of thought emerged in opposition to the [Zhu Xi] school, recognizing men’s natural characteristics, they always referred to the Ansai school as a concrete example of what they were against” (Maruyama 1974: 38–39). According to Maruyama, [Ansai] was … an extremely faithful [Zhu Xi] scholar, and, because of his distinct personality, his school preserved completely the moral rigorism that was inherent in [Zhu Xi] philosophy. Ansai had a religious reverence for [Zhu Xi] philosophy.… He edited the works of [Zhu Xi] that dealt with individual moral training (such editions constitute the bulk of Ansai’s writings), insisted on a rigid observation of these maxims, and enforced a rigorous program of moral training among his followers. (Maruyama 1974: 37)

Reminiscent of Inoue, Ansai is portrayed as an unoriginal thinker who merely repeats Zhu Xi’s words with an extreme devolution akin to “religious reverence.” Elsewhere, Maruyama writes that “Ansai did not even produce a philosophical work that can be said to represent the Ansai school, and intentionally no effort was made to publish even commentarial books on the Four Books, Reflections on Things at Hand, and the other basic classics of the school” (Maruyama 2014: 348). He is also described as an uncompromising teacher who demanded “rigid observation” of or strict “adherence” (bokushu 墨守) to Zhu Xi’s works and enforced a “rigorous program” (shungen 峻厳) of learning to his students. In fact, Maruyama notes, “his followers were strictly forbidden to read anything that did not contribute directly to the attainment of these goals” (Maruyama 1974: 37).3 He quotes one of Ansai’s  This is a quote from the “Jade Mountain Lecture” recorded in the Collected Writings of Master Zhu (Zhuwengong wenji 朱文公文集) 74 (Zhu 2002, vol. 24: 3587–93). 2  Maruyama critically examines the ostensive “self-completing nature” and “diachronic continuity” of the school and canvasses the dynamic inter- and intra-factional debates between its Shushigaku and Shintō students in (Maruyama 1980). For English translation, see Maruyama (2014). 3  The Kimon is known to have focused on the six canonical works: the Elementary Learning (Xiaoxue 小學), the Reflection on Things at Hand (Jinsilu 近思錄), the Great Learning (Daxue 大 學), the Doctrine of the Mean (Zhongyong 中庸), the Analects (Lunyu 論語), and the Mencius (Mengzi 孟子) (Ooms 1998: 206–7). Abe Yoshio points out that that Ansai “directly referred to Zhu Xi as his teacher, revering only a few Confucians from the Yuan and Ming dynasties. Among 1

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most famous students, Satō Naokata (1650–1719), to illustrate the degree of uncompromising rigorousness at the School: “Each time I arrived at his home and entered his gate, my heart was filled with fear and I felt as if I were entering a dungeon. When the time came to leave, once I got outside the gate, I would have a sigh of relieve just as I had escaped from the tiger’s lair” (Maruyama 1974: 38). Ansai’s own words from the Abbreviated Transcription of ZHU Xi’s Writings (Shusho shōryaku 朱書抄略) seem to support Maruyama’s description: After Confucius and Mencius, Cheng brothers inherited their teachings. When they reached Zhu Xi, he unraveled Confucius’ writings and clarified the way of the Six Classics (Liujing 六経). This is what it means to follow the proper way without forging a new path; I aspire to learn this way. (Morohashi and Yasuoka 1977: 174)

The Chronology of Ansai’s Life (Ansai nenpu 闇斎年譜) includes Ansai’s words to his students: I think that abiding in reverence (jujing 居敬; Jp. kyokei) and exhausting the li (qiongli 窮 理; Jp. kyūri) in the learning of Zhu Xi are faithful expositions of Confucius without any deviations. Therefore, if one were to error by learning Zhu Xi, then one would error with Zhu Xi. How can there be any regrets? This is the reason why I trust Zhu Xi and follow him without forging a new path. (Nishi et al. 1980: 565)

Ansai’s devotion to and affection for Zhu Xi are apparent from his willingness to error with Zhu Xi. He is said to have carried a vermillion handkerchief around his waist, wore vermillion haori (Japanese formal coat) throughout the year, and used vermillion book covers in homage of Zhu Xi (the character “朱” [Zhu] of “Zhu Xi” means “cinnabar,” a red mercuric sulfide used as a pigment). Ansai sees Zhu Xi’s works as “faithful expositions” that “directly inherit” the teachings of Confucius and Mencius passed down through the Cheng Brothers. It seems evident from his repeated allusions to Analects 7.1 that his aspiration for learning is to “follow the proper way” transmitted by Zhu Xi “without forging a new path” himself and to do so without introducing any “deviations.” For Maruyama, Ansai’s “religious reverence” for and “strict adherence” to Zhu Xi exemplified the intolerant rigorism he ascribed to Shushigaku.

3 Yamazaki Ansai 3.1

Reverence from the Standpoint of Shushigaku

Ansai writes in his introduction to the Collection of Writings on Childhood Cultivation and Education (Mōyō keihatsu shū 蒙養啓発集):

them, those who can be thought to have influenced his style of learning were Xue Jingxuan (Xue Xuan, 1389–1464), Hu Jingzhai (Hu Juren, 1434–84), and Yi T’oegye of Korea” (Huang and Tucker 2014: 336).

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Master Zhu inherited [Cheng Yi’s 程頤 (1033–1107)] teachings, wrote the Elementary Learning and unraveled the Great Learning. This teaching of the sages has an order from the Elementary Learning to the Great Learning. The one continuous strand that binds them4 is reverence. This is seen in the Elementary Learning’s reverent comportment (jingsheng 敬 身)5 and in the Great Learning’s abiding in reverence (jingzhi 敬止).6 The teachings of the Elementary Learning and the Great Learning are all about clarifying (ming 明) the five roles and relations (wulun 五倫)7 so that they can be embodied by one’s own embodied self. This is the reason why the Elementary Learning has reverent comportment as its pivot and the Great Learning has self-cultivation (xiusheng 修身) as its roots. If exemplary persons were to cultivate themselves by reverence and abide in affections, proprieties, differentiations, precedence, and trusts,8 then all possible events of this world would be covered.9 (Morohashi and Yasuoka 1977: 166)

Ansai sees reverence as the one strand that binds and pierces through the xiaoxue (childhood) and the daxue (adult) educations for “cultivating oneself” to “clarify the five roles and relations.” He accordingly holds that the Reverence Study Exhortations from the Collected Writings of Master Zhu 85 (Zhu 2002, vol. 24: 3996–97) is one of the most important texts in the learning of Zhu Xi. His commentaries and interpretation of reverence are primarily recorded in the Lectures on the Reverence Study Exhortations (Keisaishin kōgi 敬齋箴講義), which aptly begins by proclaiming reverence as “the beginning and the end of gongfu 功夫 (cultivation, practice) in Confucian learning” (Nishi et al. 1980: 80) following Zhu Xi (Zhu 2002, vol. 6: 506). His interpretation is firmly based on Cheng Yi’s definition of reverence as attentive concentration or focus on a task (zhuyi 主一) without being distracted (wushi 無適) (Cheng and Cheng 1981: 169). Zhu Xi writes: [Cheng Yi] explained in detail about where and how to exert our effort in cultivation to preserve reverence. He said, “If one were to properly straighten oneself (zhengqi 整齊) and be solemnly respectful (yansu 嚴肅), then the heart-mind would be focused on a task. If one were to be focused on the task, then improper conducts would not be carried out.” He also said, “If countenance were tightened and thinking were straightened, then reverence would emerge on its own.” This is where and how to exert our effort in cultivation. (Zhu 2002, vol. 22: 1872–73)

The definition of reverence as “zhengqi yansu 整齊嚴肅” is from the Surviving Works of the Cheng Brothers (Ercheng yishu 二程遺書) 15 (Cheng and Cheng 1981: 150). Taken together, reverence is to have the heart-mind attentively “concentrated” or “focused” on a task (zhuyi) with utmost seriousness by “straightening oneself” (zhengqi) with proper bearings and attires and with “solemn

 Reference to Analects 4.15.  The “Reverent Comportment” is the title of a chapter in the Xiaoxue. 6  The “abiding in reverence” is from Daxue 3. 7  The five roles and relations are between father and son, ruler and subject, husband and wife, old and young, and between friends from Mencius 3A.4. 8  They refer to the affections between fathers and sons, proprieties between rulers and subjects, differentiations between husbands and wives, precedence of the old over the young, and the trusts between friends from Mencius 3A.4. 9  Reference to the Appended Remarks (Xici 繫辭) 1.9 of the Book of Changes (Yijing 易經). 4 5

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and respectful” (yansu) expressions and attitudes so that the said concentration will “not be distracted” (wushi) by or diverted to other things. Ansai divides the Exhortations into ten sections and he takes the first six lines to be about holding fast to reverence (chijing 持敬) (Nishi et al. 1980: 74). The first five lines, from his reading, are about cultivating proper bearings with respectful attitude and countenance. For instance, the first line of the Exhortations draws from Analects 20.2, “Exemplary persons wear their caps and robes correctly, and are always polite in their gaze” and the third line alludes to Analects 12.2, “In your public life, behave as though you are receiving important visitors; employ the common people as though you are overseeing a great sacrifice.” Ansai writes that “there are reverential attendance to a task (shuji no kei 主事ノ敬) and reverential attention (shuitsu no kei 主一ノ敬)” itself (Nishi et al. 1980: 90). According to his reading, the fifth line indicates that the preceding lines on proper bearings and countenance, including itself, are about the reverential attendance to ritual tasks (Nishi et  al. 1980: 89). This corresponds with the definition of reverence as “to properly straighten oneself and be solemnly respectful” during ritual performances.10 He explains further that reverential attendance to a ritual task is “to place the heart-­ mind onto that that task without letting the heart-mind wander,” that is, through the reverential attention (Nishi et al. 1980: 90). Ansai then comments that the sixth line is about the reverential attention of the heart-mind in being concentrated or focused as it is explained by Cheng Yi (Nishi et al. 1980: 90). He writes, “In any case, if one were not focused, then the one would not be able to focus on a task. To be focused and to be focused on a task are all about reverence” (Nishi et al. 1980: 91). In other words, proper attendance to ritual tasks requires proper attention that focuses on it without being distracted. Ansai clearly sees reverence as the method for developing this attentive focus needed for an appropriate attendance to ritual tasks. In the Lectures, Ansai reads reverence as being “kitsuto 吃ト” in everyday lives without being inattentive and scattered (Nishi et al. 1980: 81). The way he uses the Japanese expression “kitsuto” is unique. He defines “kitsuto” as “having the heart-­ mind clearly awakened” (Nishi et al. 1980: 81) and to “tighten” or to “hold fast” to that heart-mind (Nishi et  al. 1980: 87). This is in line with Xie Liangzuo’s (1050–1103) definition of reverence as being “awakened” (changxingxing 常惺惺). Furthermore, two homophonous characters can stand for “kitsu” of “kitsuto” here: (a) “kitsu 仡” of “kitsuzen 仡然,” which means “having valiant countenance” and (b) “kitsu 屹” of “kitsuzen 屹然,” which means “standing tall majestically” (Takashima 2012: 167–68). Both have to do with presenting oneself with certain bodily postures and countenance to “tighten” the heart-mind to keep it “awakened.” Ansai thus argues that the mental posture of reverential attention is cultivated through or induced by proper bodily postures for reverential attendance to ritual performances. He sees “reverential comportments” exhorted in the Exhortations as the concrete entryway to the gongfu of reverence to develop this mental attention  Hayakawa Masako explains that the first five lines are about “the reverence of bodily comportments” conducted in accordance to the proprieties appropriate to the five roles and relations (Hayakawa 1986: 88). 10

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and focus. He stresses repeatedly that “reverence involves both the heart-mind and the body” (Nishi et  al. 1980: 86). Reverential attention of the heart-mind and attendance through the body are mutually constitutive for Ansai. In sum, the gongfu of reverence involves reverential attendance to ritual tasks (zhushi) with proper bodily postures, such as straightening oneself (zhangqi) with respectful comportments (yansu), to develop the mental posture of reverential attention (zhuyi).

3.2 Reverence from the Standpoint of Suika Shintō Ansai’s interpretation of reverence outlined thus far is largely in line with Zhu Xi in holding that to conduct oneself with proper bearings, attires, countenances, postures, and so on in attendance to ritual tasks is the method for developing the reverential attention and focus (Zhu 2002, vol. 14: 572). What makes his interpretation unique is his aspiration to elucidate what he takes to be the “marvelous correspondence” (myōkei 妙契) between Zhu Xi’s philosophy and Shintō.11 Ansai emphasizes the importance of the “teaching of earth and metal” (dokon no den or tsuchikane no tsutae 土金の伝), which he considers to be the Shintō equivalent, if not an extension of reverence from Shushigaku (Sun 2013: 65–67, 89–93). The teaching is the core secret “transmission of teachings” (den 伝) of the Yoshida Shintō 吉田神道 sect, which was passed down through Ogiwara Kaneyori (1588–1660), the heir of the sect, to Yoshikawa Koretari (1616–1695).12 Koretari held a prestigious position during the reign of the fifth shogun Tokugawa Tsunayoshi (1646–1709) to oversee the study of Shintō texts and the administration of Shintō rituals for the shogunate. Ansai received this secret den of Yoshida Shintō from Koretari when he was serving as a mentor to the feudal lord of the Aizu domain, Hoshina Masayuki (1611–1673) who created the aforementioned position for Koretari. Ansai also received the nakatomi harai 中臣祓 (Nakatomi Purification Ritual) and secret teachings of the Ise Shintō 伊勢神道 sect from Watarai Nobuyoshi (1615–1690)13 and his student Kawabe Kiyonaga (1602–1688).14 Nobuyoshi is from the Watarai family who served as the high priests for generations at the Outer Shrine, the Toyouke Grand Shrine, of the Ise Grand Shrine dedicated to the sun goddess Amaterasu ōmikami. Kiyonaga, on the other hand, was the daigūji 大宮司, the high priest of the Ise Grand Shrine. Herman Ooms observes that Ansai “was thus being instructed by the highest authority of the Yoshida Shinto, the branch of Shinto that for two centuries, institutionally and exegetically, had been the most  Ansai claims that he is neither making a “forced analogy” (fukai 付会) between nor advocating a “doctrinal amalgamation” (shūgō 習合) of Shushigaku and Shintō attempted by his predecessors (Taira and Abe 1972: 143), but is clarifying the “marvelous correspondence” where their ways coincide on their own accord. For discussion, see Maruyama (1980: 624–25). 12  His last name is sometimes read as “Kikkawa” and his first name as “Koretaru.” 13  Also known as Deguchi Nobuyoshi. 14  Also known as Ōnakatomi no Kiyonaga. 11

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prominent” (Ooms 1998: 198). Together with the secret transmission of the Ise, he has truly “acquired access to the teachings of the two most important Shinto schools of the time” (Ooms 1998: 222, 230). In his Lectures on the Chapters of the Divine Age (Kamiyo no maki kōgi 神代巻 講義),15 Ansai identifies the heart-mind as the “shrine” (hokora) or the “abode of the god (kami).” He further states that the heart-mind must be made “reverentially restraint” (tsutsushimi ツツシミ) to become the proper abode (de Bary et al. 2006: 80–81).16 The first line of Exhortations ends with the following statement: “Be present with your heart-mind stowed away in restraint when facing the shangdi 上帝 (highest deity, lord of high)”17 (Zhu 2002, vol. 24: 3996). In his lecture on the Exhortations, Ansai makes a reference to Cheng Yi’s student, Yin Tun (1071–1142), and says, “As you enter a person’s ancestral shrine, only when you are restrained (tsutsushimi 慎ミ) with proper bearings and proceed on knees with your head bent down will this heart-mind converge in restraint (shūren 收斂) such that not even a minute amount of distracting thoughts will interfere from without. At that very moment, the meaning of reverence will be understood” (Nishi et al. 1980: 86). In other words, if one were to comport oneself in accordance to proper bearings appropriate to reverential attendance to ritual tasks (e.g., entering a shrine to seek an audience with the kami by proceeding on knees with heads bent down), the heart-­ mind would be “converged” or “concentrated” with reverential attention that is not “scattered and dissipated” (de Bary et al. 2006: 81). Such ritual performances would be consequently accompanied by “restraint” insofar as proper reverential attention and attendance demand deferential respect for the persons involved, the location of the establishment, the time, the occasion, the ceremony, and, importantly, one’s own place and role within the nexus of social relations onsite. While this reading seems to correspond with Cheng Yi’s definition adopted by Zhu Xi, there is one significant difference: Reverence is described as the readying of the heart-mind as the abode of the kami. Ansai uses different names to reflect his philosophies. For instance, his name “ 嘉” (ka; Ch. jia) is similar in shape and shares a component with Zhu Xi’s first name “熹” (ki; Ch. xi) and his studio name “Ansai 闇斎” has a similar meaning to Zhu Xi’s studio name “Huian 晦庵” in that they both mean “hidden abode.” Ansai’s Shintō name, on the other hand, is “Suika” or “Shidemasu 垂加” and his own brand of Shintō is called “Suika Shintō 垂加神道.” Ooms points out that the name is a reference to “one of Yamato-hime’s oracles, which stresses the importance of prayers to call the gods down and straightforwardness as a condition for receiving  The “Chapter of the Divine Age” are the first two chapters of the Chronicles of Japan (Nihon shoki 日本書記) recounting the creation myth of Japan. 16  Barry Steben notes that “the equation of reverence (kei) [in the passage] with the native Japanese word tsutsushimi depends on the overlapping meanings of the two. Kei connotes attentiveness and concentration, whereas tsutsushimi connotes reverence, restrained, and, here, ‘tightening’” (de Bary et al. 2006: 80). 17  This is derived from the Surviving Works of the Cheng Brothers 11 (Cheng and Cheng 1981: 118). 15

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blessings” (Ooms 1998: 228). His Shintō name is derived from a passage from the Gochinza denki 御鎮座伝記 (Record of Enshrinements), which is one of the Five Shintō Scriptures (Shintō gobusho 神道五部書) of the Outer Shrine of Ise: Humans are the divine beings under Heaven. They must do no harm to their heart-kami (shinjin). The gods COME DOWN (shinSUI, kami SHIDEruru) in/for those who first pray; divine protection (myōGA, myōMASU; lit. mysterious INCREASE) is for those who make uprightness their base. Thus, relying on one’s original mind (honshin), everyone must obtain the Great Way. Therefore gods and humans (shinjin, or divine men) have to preserve the beginning of primeval chaos (konton no hajime). (Ooms 1998: 228)

“Suika” accordingly means “divine protection” received through “gods coming down.” Takashima Motohiro argues that the purpose of making one’s heart-mind reverent for Ansai is to invite the kami to descent into one’s own body. He cites the following passage from the Lectures on the Chapters of the Divine Age in support (Takashima 2012: 169–70): Although this ever-defiled heartmind and body cannot be possessed by the kami, if you were to enter a torii (gateway to Shinto shrines), your heart-mind and body would be refreshed. Your heart-mind upon seeking an audience at the presence of the kami would be without all the defilements; it would truly be cleansed. As such, by going through a torii, this very body of ours would become the palace of the kami. It would not be anywhere else; this very body would be the palace of the kami where it would reside and be enshrined. (Taira and Abe 1972: 169)

In the Preface to the Aizu Shrine Records (Aizu jinja shi 会津神社志), Ansai gives instructions for making the heart-mind reverential and restrained to call upon the kami: “One must do one’s best to be tranquil and preserve the fetal beginning of hundun 混沌 (chaos, undifferentiatedness), attain purity and clearness by removing defilements through purification rituals. If you were to pray with uprightness, upright kamis would grant fortunes incrementally and crooked kamis would cease to bring misfortunes” (Morohashi and Yasuoka 1977: 131). Ooms explains that “the divine world of undifferentiatedness is the homeland of the no-thought mind. If one reaches the no-thought state, one’s chest empties and shapeless pillar rises within it. Gods dwell only in empty hearts” (Ooms 1986: 257). Reverential attention or concentration prevents the heart-mind from wandering or being “scattered and dissipated.” In so doing, it quiets or revert the heart-mind into a “tranquil” state where thoughts and emotions “are yet to arise.” Ansai likens this “no-thought state” to the “pregnant void” (Ooms 1986: 257) or the “fetal beginning of hundun” out of which the kamis emerged. The heart-mind thus “emptied” of thoughts and emotions is consequently “cleansed” or “purified” into a “clear” space, as it were, for the “shapeless pillar” (the abode of the kami) to be erected. Sun Chuanling explains further: “As ‘kami’ resides in ‘our bodies’ (this very human bodies), it becomes the subject that presides over human activities (everything that involves our body and mind, thoughts and so on). The place that the ‘kami’ resides is the ‘heart-mind’ of ‘our bodies.’ Therefore, the ‘heart-mind’ is the ‘abode of the kami’ where the ‘kami’ resides. For this reason, humans must constantly maintain the state of ‘reverence’ through methods including ‘purification rituals,’ ‘prayers,’ and being ‘upright’” (Sun 2013: 91). To abide or hold fast to reverence for Ansai is

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then an effort to maintain the reverential restraint of the heart-mind as the abode of the kami who is said to descend and preside over the host’s entire cognitive, affective, and behavioral activities. Ansai also states in the Preface that “the ten-thousand kamis of this world are transformations of Amenominakanushi and yet there are upright kamis and crooked kamis; why is this the case? There are only li and qi in between heavens and earth. The kami is that which comes in and out by riding on the qi of li. As such, if the qi were upright, then the kami would be upright and if the qi were crooked, then the kami would be crooked” (Morohashi and Yasuoka 1977: 131). In the Master Suika’s Lecture on the Great Learning (Daigaku Suika sensei kōgi 大学垂加先生講義), he describes the relationship between li and qi as that of “inscrutable fusion” (miaohe 妙合).18 He explains that this fusion is not like a pairing of two shells of a clam, but an inseparable mixture of hot and cold water (Nishi et al. 1980: 36). The kami for Ansai is neither li or qi individually nor an entity that is distinct from li and qi; it is evidently a fused mixture of li and qi.19 Ansai writes: “One’s embodied self is imbricated with the five roles and relations. Further, that which presides over one’s embodied self is the heart-mind. For this reason, if the heart-mind were reverent, then one’s embodied self would be cultivated and the five roles and relations would be clarified” (Nishi et al. 1980: 74). If the heart-mind were purified through reverence, the defilements of coarse and turbid qi would be cleansed and replaced by the fine and clear qi. If this state of reverence were preserved and held fast, it would putatively keep the crooked kami away and invite the upright kami to “come down.” The kami upon descent would become the presiding heart-mind or the heart-­kami of the embodied self whose unobstructed li (e.g., ren 仁; benevolence, humaneness) would shine through, as it were, and manifest as proper conducts (e.g. love and affection). The hosting self would be fully cultivated in virtue of the presiding kami’s residence and become a site of reverence itself. Consequently, Ansai is said to have built a shrine to his own “divine self” (Ooms 1998: 231–32). Insofar as humans are “imbricated” or woven into each other (Takashima 2012: 168), the five roles and relations composing the nexus of human relations would be clarified, if not illuminated by the kami in time. From the standpoint of Suika Shintō, cultivation thus ends with making the heart-mind reverent. Ultimately, it is the kami  This is derived from Zhou Dunyi’s Explanation of the Diagram of the Supreme Polarity (Taijitu sho 太極圖說). 19  Tsuchida Kenjirō suggests that “if we were to apply [Ansai’s] ‘kami’ to the learning of Zhu Xi, it would correspond with the heart-mind that is a compound of qing 情 (emotions, feelings) and xing; it would then not be the li by itself” (Tsuchida 2014: 191). Zhu Xi follows Zhang Zai and defines the heart-mind as that which “governs (tongshe 統攝)” or “manages (guanshe 管攝)” xing and qing (Zhu 2002, vol. 14: 229–30). This definition may seem to imply that the heart-mind is an entity that is distinct from xing and qing. Zhu Xi, however, defines the character “統 (tong)” as “ 兼 (jian),” which means “to compound” or “to have plural items concurrently” (Zhu 2002, vol. 17: 3304). He explains that “what is meant by ‘the heart-mind’ is to have xing and qing concurrently. What is meant by ‘having xing and qing concurrently’ is to consist (baokuo 包括) of these xing and qing” (Zhu 2002, vol. 14: 704). To build upon Tsuchida’s suggestion, Ansai’s kami seems to be a “compound” that “consists” of li and qi like the heart-mind. 18

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entrusted,20 not oneself, that would make the embodied self cultivated and the five roles and relations clarified. This reading contrasts sharply with Zhu Xi, but it is nevertheless novel and uniquely Ansai.

4 Itō Jinsai and Ogyū Sorai Jinsai and Sorai were both discontent with what they called “the later Confucianism,” especially the received Cheng–Zhu line of the Daoxue (Learning of the Way) tradition and its adaptation as Shushigaku in Japan most notably by Ansai and the Kimon. They both maintained that generations of misguided Confucian appropriations of Daoist and Buddhist philosophical concepts have distorted what they take to be the original Confucianism. Following Inoue, Maruyama groups Jinsai and Sorai as philosophers of “Ancient Learning,” since Jinsai’s “Study of Ancient Meaning (kogigaku 古義學)” calls for a return to the Analects and Mencius and Sorai’s “Study of Ancient Words and Literature (kobunjigaku 古文辭學)” advocates a return to the Six Classics. However, the philosophies of Jinsai and Sorai are much more than simple reversions to their respective “ancient learnings.” Their complex philosophies are firmly grounded on their close learning of and critical reflections on Zhu Xi’s philosophy.

4.1 Itō Jinsai Jinsai writes in the preface of his principle work Meaning of Terms in Analects and Mencius (Gomō jigi 語孟字義), “I teach students to scrutinize the Analects and Mencius thoroughly so that they can rightly discern, with their mind’s eye, the semantic lineage of the teachings of the sage Confucius” (Tucker 1998: 69). He indicates that later Confucianism has been distorted over the centuries through their appropriations of Daoist and Buddhist philosophies and argues for a return to Analects and Mencius to unravel what he takes to be the semantic lineage of the way. For Jinsai, one of the most telling distortions is the assumption that li is a repeatable entity that can be wholly and simultaneously instantiated by numerically distinct individuals as their selfsame nature. He analyzes that li “originally denoted the veins of jade. By extension, it came to refer to the rational order of inanimate things” (Tucker 1998: 101–2). Jinsai indicates that li is “never broached in the sagely Confucian texts” (Tucker 1998: 97) and that it is nothing but a stagnant “dead word” that “can neither convey nor capture the mysteries that heaven and earth  Tsuchida observes that “the tendency to entrust oneself to that which transcends oneself (this may be the public domain or the gods) after years of accumulated cultivations by one’s own could be thought of as an expression of the acceptance of the concept of the gods in the case of Confucian Shintō” (Tsuchida 2014: 195–96). 20

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spawn through productive and transformative life” (Tucker 1998: 102). He alludes to the Appended Remarks 2.5 and describes the world as a “unitary generative” field of qi (ichigenki 一元氣; Ch. yiyuanqi) that is perpetually undergoing the process of change and transformation. It is also a creative process of generative intermingling of yin 陰 and yang 陽 (yinwen 絪縕) through which the ten-thousand thing-events in their inexhaustible variations are produced and reproduced (shengsheng 生生) without an end. He accordingly writes: “The Book of Changes states, ‘The great virtue of heaven and earth is life-giving productivity.’ Thus, ceaseless production is the way of heaven and earth. The way of heaven and earth consists of life, not death” (Tucker 1998: 75). The world for Jinsai is a living world of change and transformation wherein yin and yang qi-processes interweave to generate further “living thing-­ events” that are ever-new. His reading of xing reflects this view: Throughout the world, human nature is uneven and unequal: different strengths and weaknesses are merged in it. Confucius’ remark, “People are similar in their human nature” recognizes this. Mencius added that while physical disposition of people combines strengths and weaknesses unequally, human nature tends towards moral goodness and thus has a unity. Likewise all water flows downward, despite differences in purity and turbidity, sweetness and bitterness. Confucius’ remark about a similar human nature and Mencius’ claim about its goodness refer to the moral flow of human nature towards goodness. Nevertheless, they equally pertain to the physical disposition. (Tucker 1998: 134–35)

He affirms that xing is innate (Tucker 1998: 133), but argues that it is our physical dispositions composed of qi (qibing 氣禀), not the unchanging li held to be inherent in all things. Insofar as it is dispositional, xing constitutes our initial “tendencies” towards rather than the fixed “nature” of goodness. Since the dispositions of qi vary with the “uneven and unequal” mixture of yin and yang component qi, natural tendencies are accordingly particular to individuals, rendering them unique and diverse. “Human nature,” Jinsai says, “refers only to the particular self, not everyone in the world” (Tucker 1998: 117). Since the field of qi is in constant flux, humans with their variable natural tendencies are living individuals with roles and relations situated in their own unique sets of circumstances that are not repeatable. Jinsai states that “in historical time, there is both a past and a present. Geographic space varies from urban to rural areas. Families differ according to their relative wealth or poverty. People vary due to high or low status. The myriad details of human affairs and the manifold circumstances of the world are so complex that we could never systematically order them without resorting to expedients (quan 權)” (Tucker 1998: 189). Jinsai maintains that there is no fixed “normative standards for human conduct” that are universally applicable to everyone, everywhere, and at every time. He stresses that expediency is “indispensable for Confucian learning” (Tucker 1998: 189) and underscores the importance of learning and cultivation methods that foster it: [Later Confucians] differs greatly from the sagely Confucian teachings in emphasizing “holding onto seriousness” and “extending knowledge” as the essential of learning. [They] never realized that loyalty (zhong 忠) and empathy (shu 恕) were the fundamental Confucian teachings. The Confucian way did not originally distinguish the self from society! Therefore Confucians should not dichotomize them either. If not for loyalty, or exerting the self, and empathy, or being considerate of others, we could not harmoniously unify ourselves with

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others. Loyalty and empathy are therefore the greatest and most essential teachings for those hoping to practice the Confucian way and complete the moral virtues it extols. (Tucker 1998: 171)

Jinsai argues for a maximal deference for particularities. He contends that we ought to do our best to “exert” ourselves in “empathizing” with others to become “considerate” of their unique circumstances. Empathy cultivated would allow for expedient “measurement” (Tucker 1998: 189)21 and appropriation of learning to changing circumstances of individuals in their diverse roles and relations. Abe Mitsumaro aptly points out that for Jinsai “to conduct oneself appropriately in response to individuals and their circumstances is necessary for an in-depth reading of the Analects and the Mencius.… The genuine heart-mind that results from the practice of loyalty and empathy in everyday human lives can bring about flourishing to others through appropriate conducts informed by the differences in their roles and relations” (Abe 2004: 70). The nurturing of empathy required for expediency fundamentally involves human relations insofar as it is cultivated through the very act of empathizing with others. Jinsai criticizes later Confucians for holding an overtly individualistic approach to cultivation: If we make our minds loyal and empathetic, then in all activities undertaken we will harmonize with everyone and everything! We will not merely think of making ourselves good and stopping there. Teachings like “grasping seriousness” and “extending knowledge” only enable us to realize personal virtues.… The [later Confucian] teachings do not differ greatly from heterodoxies which emphasize personal purity and retreat from society. (Tucker 1998: 171)

Shushigaku philosophers exemplified by Ansai assume that xing is the invariant nature that is numerically identical to and qualitatively indiscernible from the unchanging li construed as a repeatable. If this were the case, to use Maruyama’s expressions, both the immutable “laws of nature” and fixed “normative standards” would be wholly instantiated by each and every human as the “intrinsic characteristics” of their selfsame nature. Insofar as li is wholly instantiated within, cultivation methods such as reverence would only need to turn inward, as it were, to focus on oneself to uncover these universal laws and standards. What this would amount to, according to Jinsai, is an individualistic endeavor to cultivate insulated “personal virtues” in abstraction from one’s own irreducible sociality. Abe summarizes Jinsai’s discontent as “the negligence of object” in cultivation. He writes: “Since the cultivation methods [of later Confucians] are not ethical conducts

 Following Zhu Xi’s commentary on Analects 9.30 (Zhu 2002, vol. 6: 147), Jinsai writes, “Master Cheng said, ‘The word “expedient,” which originally means “scale,” derives its philosophical meaning from the way in which scales measure weight.’ According to the balance of the scales, unites of weight are added or removed to equal the weight of a thing. Expediency works much like a set of scales” (Tucker 1998: 189). Yoshikawa Kōjirō explains that “the degree of ‘not going beyond and falling short’ (guobuji 過不及) must be different depending on the diverse states of the thing-events in front of our eyes” and that this requires “what Mencius refers to as ‘expediency,’ which is the measurement of this degree” (Yoshikawa and Shimuzu 1971: 607). 21

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of human relations themselves, although they do not completely deemphasize [them], they are nevertheless structurally completable by oneself; although they do not completely deemphasize human relations, it is still possible to practice them without any transaction with others” (Abe 2009: 52). In his commentary on Mencius 2A.6, Jinsai defines “duan 端” as nascent “beginnings” to be “developed” (kuochong 擴充) through learning (Tucker 1998: 186). He emphasizes that “humaneness, rightness, propriety, and wisdom are all concepts pertaining to the way and virtue” and that “they do not denote human nature” (Tucker 1998: 117). According to his view, the beginnings do not “indicate” subsistence of fixed normative standards within, but orientations, as it were, of our natural tendencies that can be nurtured and grown into “ways and virtues.” For example, the “heartmind of feeling pity at suffering” (ceying 惻隠) indicates our natural tendency to empathize with others, which can be optimally developed into “humaneness” contributive to the realization of harmony. Jinsai states that “michi 道, meaning ‘the way,’ denotes a road, i.e., something all people follow in coming and going” (Tucker 1998: 93). Unlike the “dead word” li, he adds, “the way is a vivacious concept (katsuji 活字), one capable of describing the reproductive and transformative mysteries of living things” (Tucker 1998: 101). Reminiscent of Analects 15.28, which states that “it is the person who is able to broaden the way,” Jinsai does not see the way as something given and fixed, but as roads trodden and broaden by people coming and going in time. Cultivation for him is not an inward-­looking effort to quiet one’s own heart-mind to uncover the putative nature in isolation, but an outward-looking interpersonal practice to develop the beginnings into ways and virtues on and through everyday transactions with others. The way for Jinsai is “vivacious” in that it is nurtured through the development of the nascent beginnings and grown through the expedient appropriations of it to ever-changing circumstances of unique individuals in their diverse roles and relations.

4.2 Ogyū Sorai Maruyama writes: “Profound changes occurred between the Kanbun (1661–1673) and Kyōhō eras (1716–1736). The most problematic era of the entire Tokugawa period, the Genroku era (1688–1704), falls within this interval. During this half century, the popularity of [Zhu Xi] philosophy rapidly declined” (Maruyama 1974: 40), because it has “lost its social relevance with the subsequent historical changes” (Maruyama 1974: 177).22 He credits Sorai for recovering “this relevance by completely politicizing Confucianism” (Maruyama 1974: 177). Maruyama underscores that Sorai did not define the way as fixed normative standards grounded  Tsuchida questions the putative “dissolution” by using Ishikawa Ken’s historical study of Japanese schooling system (Ishikawa 1977) to show that the number of Shushigaku scholars of feudal domains from 1789, a year before the Prohibition, to 1871 during the Meiji era has actually increased over time (Tsuchida 2014: 88–90). 22

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on some unchanging laws of nature, but as human “rites, music, law enforcement, and political administrations” (riraku keibatsu 礼楽刑罰) authored by the sage-­ kings of the past: The Way was created by the sages. Conversely, the term “sage” is nothing but the name for those who created the Way. The most ancient political rulers, [Fuxi], [Shennong], and [Huangdi], are all sages in this sense.… [T]he men who systematized the Way in rites, music, law enforcement, and political administration were the rulers of the Three Dynasties, Yao, Shun, Yu, [Tang], and [Zhou]. These men are sages among the sages. Thus the sages are the ancient political rulers who established the Way, and therefore for Sorai the sages are identical with the Early Kings. (Maruyama 1974: 94)

He further indicates that “because the Way is absolute in its otherworldliness, it displays its binding power concretely and empirically only in historically unique circumstances. This is the positive aspect of the Sorai system’s historical consciousness” (Maruyama 1974: 97). That is, the sage-kings who formulated their rites, music, penal laws, and administrative institutions are historically and geographically bound. Their ways are, therefore, contextually-dependent upon their own “unique circumstances.” Maruyama stresses the importance of what he calls “the logic of invention” in Sorai’s philosophy: By extending the analogy of the logic of “invention by the Early Kings” to all ages, the ascendancy of person over ideas was firmly established for the first time. This made it possible for political rulers to engage in inventive activities, directed towards the future, in order to overcome the crisis confronting them.… In Sorai’s case, the Way of the Sages had a universal validity that transcended time and place. However, the Ideas embodied in the Way did not come into existence by themselves but emerged through the inventive acts of the founder-king of each era.… [T]he realization of the Idea is discontinuous, in that institutions must be invented anew by the ruler of each new regime. (Maruyama 1974: 218)

In Maruyama’s view, Sorai overturned the Shushigaku assumption that normative standards are natural in that they are identical with the laws of nature. The “logic of invention” gives rise to the recognition with “historical consciousness” that rites, music, law enforcement, and political administrations are contextually grounded products of “the inventive acts of the founder-king of each era.” Sorai is decidedly clear on this point. He says, “The way of the early kings consists in what the early kings formulated. It is not the natural way of heaven and earth” (Tucker 2006: 142). The standards, now severed and thus “discontinuous” from the natural, are no longer given as the inherent or multiply instantiated nature that is immutable and fixed, but ways in which “institutions must be invented anew by the ruler of each new regime” here and now in dealing with concrete “crisis confronting them.” Sorai regrets that “some have claimed that the standard is ‘what can never be changed, even when spanning myriad generations.’23 That view is particularly not acceptable” (Tucker 2006: 327). He states that “rites and regulations are extremely numerous,” therefore, “when it comes to matters that have not been prescribed, we can then alter things and follow what is most correct, and that is it” (Tucker 2006: 329). The way of the sage-kings of the past cannot be applied to the present as it is; it must be realized by

23

 He is referring to Zhu Xi’s commentary on Mencius 7B.37 (Zhu 2002, vol. 6: 458).

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appropriating them to the “historically unique circumstances” of the present. The way for Sorai is not a set of fixed normative standards to be discovered within one’s own unchanging nature, but rites, music, law enforcement, and political administrations formulated by the sage-kings of the past to be reinvented anew: “Since the way was founded by Yao and Shun, myriad generations have followed it. Nevertheless, there have been alterations and changes in the way that accorded with the times. For this reason, sages of a particular generation have made adjustments and set them forth as the way, and rulers and ministers of the same generation have followed those alterations and put them into practice” (Tucker 2006: 176). He maintains throughout that “the way of the early kings is the way that provides for the peace of the realm below heaven” (Tucker 2006: 139). The way for Sorai is fundamentally about sociopolitical order and harmony. Rites, music, law enforcement, and political administration authored by the sage-kings are to be inventively appropriated, not only to address the concrete problems of the day, but also to bring harmonious peace and prosperity to our times. To this end, Sorai counsels that rulers and ministers ought to manage ordinary people and develop their unique talents to optimize their contributions to their societies. Sorai writes: Scholar-knights who want to study the way of the early kings in order to complete their virtues [should be aware that] the way of the early kings has many aspects, just as there are many types of human nature. If they can realize that the early kings’ way basically returns to bringing peace to the realm below heaven, and then apply their strength toward humanness, thereupon each person [in the realm] will follow what is close to their human nature and realize aspects of the way. As with You’s [Zilu] courage, Si’s [Zigong] achievements, and Qiu’s [Ran Qiu] arts, everyone will complete their particular talents. (Tucker 2006: 146)

He argues that “human nature is particular to each individual; virtues are thus particular to each individual. There ought not be a single way to develop our talents (cai 才) to become [someone] productive” (Yoshikawa et  al. 1973: 196).24 Like Jinsai before him, Sorai sees nature or tendencies as physical dispositions of qi, which make each and every human particular in virtue of their unique configurations. He reasons that if natural tendencies were diverse, then human talents and their developments would also have to be diverse. Analects 13.23 states that “exemplary persons seek harmony not sameness.” Harmony is traditionally construed by Confucians as a synergistic relation wherein unique ingredients with distinct flavors are made to mutually accentuate each other to produce a concerted effect that is greater than the sum of their individual effects. Ideally, the way does not seek “sameness” by purging the uniqueness of the ingredients but works to align or arrange these ingredients into a productive configuration that optimizes their individual contributions to the resulting harmony. Sorai insists that “when one sees thing on a grand scale, details are not neglected” (Tucker 2006: 297). That is, if rulers and ministers were to aspire to realize a “grand” social harmony, the minute “details” of ordinary people would have to be taken seriously. He says that “the way of the early kings and Confucius allows everyone an activity, a use, and an enter24

 Reference to Mencius 7A.40.

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prise to pursue by which they can essentially cultivate and complete their virtues” (Tucker 2006: 148). Ordinary people should not be neglected or coerced into sameness. Rather, their individualities ought to be appreciated and their unique talents nurtured to maximize their potential contributions to the realization of societal peace and harmony. However, Sorai also says: The early kings … followed people’s ability to work together and undertake tasks cooperatively. They founded the way so that the realm and posterity could follow it in their behavior and thus fully complete their nature and destiny. Insofar as this was their intention, how could the early kings have possibly wished that all people strive to become sages? Moreover, how could they ever have meant that all people attempt to fathom the way? Why would they ever have forced people to try to comprehend and practice what, for ordinary people, was so difficult to fathom and practice? The intention of the early kings was simply to pacify the people. (Tucker 2006: 176)

He maintains that “the way of the early kings seems vague and distant” for ordinary people, because “it is something that [they] cannot fathom. For this reason Confucius remarked, ‘People can be made to follow it, but they cannot be made to comprehend it’ (Analects 8.9)” (Tucker 2006: 174). He claims that the way is beyond ordinary people’s comprehension, therefore, they ought to simply accept its efficacy and follow it for their own good. Sorai says, “If the ruler does not rule, the state cannot be governed. Therefore, prince labor with their minds, while ordinary people labor physically. Superiors and inferiors each follow their lots in their activities” (Tucker 2006: 289–90). The creative role of appropriating and the broadening of the way is exclusively allocated to rulers and ministers who can use their “minds” to understand the complex “ritual principles” behind it. Although “people usually understand that the rites are the rites founded by the early kings,” but “they do not realize that ritual principles are the principles of the rites founded by the early kings. Because of this, none of their interpretations of ritual principles make sense” (Tucker 2006: 210–211). In other words, what ordinary people think or say about the way is baseless, since they do not have the ability to “labor with their minds” to understand its underlying principles. Sorai even suggests that ordinary people are not capable of managing themselves to work their unique talents productively. He says that “all the methods of mind control in the realm below heaven, there is no method for governing the mind that is more esteemed [than that of the early kings]” (Tucker 2006: 290). Therefore, rulers and ministers with their grasp of the way ought to use the rites, music, law enforcement, and political administrations founded by the sage-kings to manage or “control” ordinary people to make the most of their unique talents for their societies. If they were to trust and follow the way as ordered, then a lasting peace and harmony would be realized in the realm.

5 Conclusion The chapter presented Japanese appropriations of Zhu Xi from the standpoint of Shushigaku exemplified by Ansai and the standpoint of “anti-Shushigaku” represented by Jinsai and Sorai to illustrate how his philosophy was learned and

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reflected by the Japanese to make it their own. Ansai often cites Analects 7.1 to articulate his wish to follow the proper way transmitted through Zhu Xi without forging a new path of his own. He may not have forged a path that is entirely new, but he has certainly broadened it through his “marvelous correspondence” between Shushigaku and Shintō. Ansai defines reverence in line with his own learning of Zhu Xi as reverential attention developed through reverential attendance to ritual tasks. He further defines reverence as the Shintō purification ritual through which the heart-mind is cleansed of thoughts and emotions to prepare it as the proper abode of the kami who presides over the host to clarify the five roles and relations. Ansai is a philosopher who has sought to establish maximal continuity with Zhu Xi through careful learning of his works and their commentaries from China and Korea. He is also a philosopher who has reflected on his learning with an unprecedented mastery over Shushigaku literature to appropriate Zhu Xi to Japan in line with his own trainings in Shintō. He is not a mere transmitter who reiterates, as Maruyama once maintained,25 but a creative philosopher who has broadened Shushigaku in a novel way that is at once continuous and discontinuous with Zhu Xi’s philosophy. Jinsai and Sorai began their careers as eager students of Shushigaku. They are also creative philosophers who have developed their own philosophies through their anti-Shushigaku engagement with Zhu Xi. They reject the central Shushigaku assumption that xing is identical with the li. For them, xing is not the universal li that is multiply instantiated in humans as their nature, but natural tendencies determined by our inborn dispositions of qi, which make each and every human particular in virtue of their unique configurations. The way and virtues are no longer given within as something fixed, but malleable meanings and values inherited from the past where we humans have a functional role in their construal. Jinsai dismisses cultivation methods such as reverence as misguided efforts to practice gongfu in isolation from our irreducible sociality. He argues for cultivation methods such as loyalty and empathy to nurture the nascent beginnings into ways and virtues on and through everyday transaction with others. Sorai praises Jinsai for taking relationality into account but finds limitation in his focus on self-cultivations to develop one’s own natural tendencies. Instead, he advocates a “grand” perspective that shifts from personal cultivation of virtues by individuals to interpersonal realization of sociopolitical harmony managed by rulers and ministers. Sorai argues for an inventive appropriation of the way authored by the sage-kings of the past to overcome crisis of the day and to bring “peace to the realm below heaven” in the present. He contends that “rites, music, law enforcement, and political administrations” ought to make the most of the insistent particularities of human dispositions by allowing diverse individuals to develop their own unique talents to maximize their potential contributions to peace and prosperity. Ansai, Jinsai, and  Maruyama in his introduction to the English edition of Studies in the History of Japanese Political Thoughts admits that one of defects of the book is his “assumption that early Tokugawa Confucianism ‘was as unadulterated as if it had just arrived from China.’ …, thus overlooking the genuinely Japanese characteristic of Tokugawa Neo-Confucianism” (Maruyama 1974: xxxv–vi).

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Sorai have all learned Zhu Xi’s philosophy and its adaptation as Shushigaku in Japan. They have all reflected upon their learnings to appropriate Zhu Xi’s philosophy to the distant quarters of Japan as their own versions of Shushigaku. Zhu Xi’s philosophy is thus the condition of possibility for their emergence. I suggest that it is through their learnings and reflections that Zhu Xi’s philosophy was creatively appropriated as the distinct Japanese Learnings of Zhu Xi that they are.

References Abe, Mitsumaro 阿部光麿. 2004. “The Two Aspects of Itō Jinsai’s Theory of Self-Cultivation 伊 藤仁斎の修行論にみる二つの側面.” Bulletin of the Graduate Division of Letters, Arts and Science of Waseda University 50.1: 63–76. (A study of Jinsai’s self-cultivation methods with emphasis on practical applications of leanring through everyday transations.) ———. 2009. “The Consistency Within the Forming Phase of Itō Jinsai’s Thoughts 伊藤仁斎の 思想形成とその方向性.” Thought and Religions of Asia 26: 48–71. (A study of the development of Jinsai’s early philosophy.) Cheng, Hao 程顥, and Cheng Yi 程頤. 1981. The Collected Works of Cheng Brothers 二程集. 4 vols. Beijing 北京: Zhonghua shuju 中華書局. de Bary, Wm. Theodore, Carol Gluck, and Arthur E. Tiedemann, eds. 2006. Sources of Japanese Tradition. Vol. 2: 1600 to 2000, Part 1: 1600 to 1868. In Wm. Theodore de Bary ed., 2nd ed. Introduction to Asian civilizations. New York: Columbia University Press. Hayakawa, Masako 早川雅子. 1986. “On the Concept of ‘Ching’ in Yamazaki Ansai 山崎闇斎 に於ける敬の思想.” Rinrigaku 4: 81–91. (A study of reverence in Ansai’s philosophy and its relation to Zhu Xi and Yi Hwang.) Huang, Chun-chieh, and John A.  Tucker, eds. 2014. Dao Companion to Japanese Confucian Philosophy. New York: Springer. Inoue, Tetsujirō 井上哲次郎. 1900. The Philosophy of the Japanese School of Wang Yangming 日 本陽明學派の哲學. Tokyo: Fuzanbō. ———. 1902. The Philosophy of the Japanese School of Ancient Learning 日本古學派の哲學. Tokyo: Fuzanbō. ———. 1905. The Philosophy of the Japanese School of ZHU Xi 日本朱子學派の哲學. Tokyo: Fuzanbō. Ishikawa, Ken. 1977. Studies in the History of Japanese School日本学校史の研究. Tokyo: Nihon Tosho Center. Maruyama, Masao 丸山眞男. 1952. Studies in the History of Japanese Political Thoughts 日本政 治思想史研究. Tokyo: University of Tokyo Press. ———. 1974. Studies in the intellectual history of Tokugawa Japan. Translated by Mikiso Hane. Princeton, NJ.: Princeton University Press. (A translation of Muruyama 1952.) ———. 1980. “The Ansai learning and the School of Ansai Learning 闇斎學と闇斎學派.” In Junzō Nishi, Ryūichi Abe and Masao Maruyama, eds., The Grand Compilation of Japanese Thoughts 日本思想大系. Tokyo: Iwanami Shoten. ———. 2014. “‘Orthodoxy’ and ‘Legitimacy’ in the Yamazaki Ansai School.” In Chun-chieh Huang and John Allen Tucker, eds., Dao Companion to Japanese Confucian Philosophy, 331– 410. New York: Springer. Original edition in 1980. Morohashi, Tetsuji 諸橋轍次, and Masahiro Yasuoka 安岡正篤, eds. 1977. The Study of ZHU Xi in Korea, the Study of ZHU Xi in Japan Part 1 朝鮮の朱子學、日本の朱子学(上). 15 vols. Vol. 12, The Great Compendium of Studies of ZHU Xi 朱子學大系. Tokyo: Meitoku Shuppansha.

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Nishi, Junzō 西順蔵, Ryūichi Abe 阿部隆一, and Masao Maruyama 丸山眞男, eds. 1980. The Yamazaki Ansai School 山崎闇斎学派. Edited by Saburō Ienaga, Tadashi Ishida, Mitsusada Inoue, Toru Sagara, Yukihiko Nakamura, Masahide Bitō, Masao Maruyama and Kōjirō Yoshikawa. Vol. 31 of The Grand Compilation of Japanese Thoughts 日本思想大系, 67 vols. Tokyo: Iwanami Shoten. Ooms, Herman. 1986. “‘Primeval Chaos’ and ‘Mental Void’ in Early Tokugawa Ideology-­ Fujiwara Seika, Suzuki Shōsan and Yamazaki Ansai.” Japanese Journal of Religious Studies 13 (4):245–260. Ooms, Herman. 1998. Tokugawa Ideology: Early Constructs, 1570–1680, Michigan Classics in Japanese Studies. Ann Arbor, Michigan: Center for Japanese Studies, University of Michigan. (A detailed work on the ideological significance of Ansai.) Sun, Chuanling 孫傳玲. 2013. “Yamazaki Ansai’s Shinto-Confucian Theory of ‘Marvelous Correspondence’ 山崎闇斎の神儒「妙契」論.” Ph.D., Graduate School of Letters, Nagoya University (13901甲第10242号). Taira, Shigemichi 平重道, and Akio Abe 阿部秋生, eds. 1972. Early Modern Theories of Shinto and Early National Studies 近世神道論・前期國學. Edited by Saburō Ienaga, Tadashi Ishida, Mitsusada Inoue, Toru Sagara, Yukihiko Nakamura, Masahide Bitō, Masao Maruyama and Kōjirō Yoshikawa. 1st. ed. Vol. 39 of The Grand Compilation of Japanese Thoughts 日本思想 大系, 67 vols. Tokyo: Iwanami Shoten. Takashima, Motohiro 高島元洋. 2012. “A Theory of Japanese School of Zhu Xi 日本朱子学 論.” In Motohiro Takashima, ed., Early Modern Japanese Confucian Thoughts—Focusing on the Yamazaki Ansai School 近世日本の儒教思想―山崎闇斎学派を中心として, 81–195. Tokyo: Ochanomizu University Library. (A work on the diversity of Japanese Confucianism and Shushigaku in Japan and the importance of reverence.) Tsuchida, Kenjirō 土田健次郎. 2014. The Study of ZHU Xi during the Edo Period 江戸の朱子学. Tokyo: Chikumashobo. (An overview of Zhu Xi’s philosophy during the Edo period.) Tucker, John A. 1998. Itō Jinsai’s Gomō jigi and the Philosophical Definition of Early Modern Japan, Brill’s Japanese Studies Library. Leiden: Brill. (A translation of Jinsai’s The Meaning of Terms in Analects and Mencius.) ———. 2006. Ogyū Sorai’s Philosophical Masterworks: the Bendō and Benmei, Asian Interactions and Comparisons. Honolulu: University of Hawai’i Press. (A translation of Sorai’s Ditinguishing the Way and Distinguishing Names.) Yoshikawa, Kōjirō 吉川幸次郎, and Shigeru Shimuzu 清水茂, eds. 1971. Itō Jinsai and Itō Tōgai 伊藤仁斎・伊藤東涯. Edited by Saburō Ienaga, Tadashi Ishida, Mitsusada Inoue, Toru Sagara, Yukihiko Nakamura, Masahide Bitō, Masao Maruyama and Kōjirō Yoshikawa. 1 ed. Vol. 33 of The Grand Compilation of Japanese Thoughts 日本思想大系, 67 vols. Tokyo: Iwanami shoten. Yoshikawa, Kōjirō 吉川幸次郎, Masao Maruyama 丸山眞男, Taiichirō Nishida 西田太一郎, and Tatsuya Tsuji 辻達也, eds. 1973. Ogyū Sorai 荻生徂徠. Edited by Saburō Ienaga, Tadashi Ishida, Mitsusada Inoue, Toru Sagara, Yukihiko Nakamura, Masahide Bitō, Masao Maruyama and Kōjirō Yoshikawa. Vol. 36 of The Grand Compilation of Japanese Thoughts 日本思想大 系, 67 vols. Tokyo: Iwanami Shoten. Zhu, Xi 朱熹. 2002. The Complete Works of Master Zhu 朱子全書. 27 vols. 1st ed. Edited by Zhu Jieren 朱傑人, Yan Zuozhi 嚴佐之, and Liu Yongxiang 劉永翔. Shanghai 上海: Shanghai Guji Chubanshe 上海古籍出版社 and Anhui Jiaoyu Chubanshe 安徽教育出版社. Eiho Baba holds a joint appointment as an associate professor at the Department of Philosophy and the Department of Asian Studies at Furman University, South Carolina, USA. His research interests are in the areas of Chinese, Japanese, and comparative philosophies.  

Chapter 33

Zhu Xi and Western Philosophy Don Baker

1 Introduction Zhu Xi 朱熹 constructed his grand synthesis of Chinese philosophy in the twelfth century. In the thirteenth century, on the other side of the wide Eurasian land mass, Thomas Aquinas (1226–1274) constructed his grand synthesis of Western philosophy and theology. The philosophical approaches adopted by those two intellectual giants were almost diametrically opposed. Aquinas, adapting Aristotelianism to support Christian theology, proposed a view of reality centered on substances, on individual objects and their distinguishing characteristics. Moreover, he constructed his arguments with deductive reasoning, assuming that once we know general truths, we can determine their particular applications. He also assumed that the best way to identify the particular applications of general truths was to identify their manifestations within concrete entities. Analysis, that is to say identifying the different characteristics of things, was for him the proper way to understand those things and, consequently, was the best way to understand the world in which we live. Among the “general truths” Aquinas assumed were axiomatic was the Christian assertion of an ontological difference between a spiritual and a material realm, including a difference between spiritual and purely material beings. This perception of a gap between the material and the spiritual, along with the assumption that the spiritual was existentially superior to the material because the  spiritual was indestructible, provided support for his argument that the supreme spiritual being, God, was the cause of and therefore transcended the material realm. The universe of Aquinas was ontologically open, since it was dependent on the external force Aquinas called God for its very existence. It was also chronologically closed. Since D. Baker (*) Department of Asian Studies, University of British Columbia, Vancouver, BC, Canada e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2020 K.-c. Ng, Y. Huang (eds.), Dao Companion to ZHU Xi’s Philosophy, Dao Companions to Chinese Philosophy 13, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-29175-4_33

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it was dependent on an external cause, it had come into existence at a particular point in time and would go out of existence at another particular point in time. Zhu Xi adopted the opposite approach to understanding the world. Rather than focusing primarily on what things are, on substances, he focused on what things do. In his world view, what things were was defined by the interactions they engaged in and by the context in which they operated. This led to an approach to knowledge very different from Thomistic analysis. In Zhu Xi’s view, extracting things from their connections to things around them rendered knowledge about them useless, since the main purpose of investigating things was to learn how to interact with them. Identifying and understanding li 理, the patterns that defined appropriate interactions, was the goal of knowledge. This entailed a holistic view of reality which downplayed differences between the spiritual and the material, since what was interacting was less important than the interactions themselves. With its focus on integration through interactions rather than on the analysis of differences, Zhu Xi’s approach prioritized immanence rather than transcendence. His approach also favored inductive logic, since you understand what something should do by comparing it to what similar things do. Knowledge, he assumed, is gained by investigating things around you rather than by gazing on some abstract transcendental First Principles. Moreover, since things in Zhu Xi’s world are defined by their interactions, they are all products of mutual causation. That implied a world that was ontologically closed, a world that did not need a Supreme Being to bring it into existence since it constantly re-created itself through its interactions. However, it was chronologically open, since there was no specific point in time we could point to when those interactions began, nor was there a specific point in time when we could expect those interactions to end. These comprehensive philosophies of both Zhu Xi and Thomas Aquinas came to dominate philosophical life, and even fundamental habits of everyday thought, in their respective parts of the world for several centuries after their deaths. For three centuries, those two vastly different approaches to explaining the universe and the place of human beings within it developed in isolation from each other. We can see no evidence of one of them influencing the other until Roman Catholic missionaries traveled from Europe to East Asia, engaging in dialogues with Japanese in the sixteenth century and then interacting with Chinese in China in the seventeenth century and Koreans in the eighteenth. The Thomistic Western philosophy of that time, or “Western Learning” (xixue 西 學) as East Asians often called it, had much greater impact on the peoples of East Asia than Zhu Xi’s philosophy had on Europeans. No European missionaries in premodern East Asia converted to Confucianism, though Confucianism did have some influence of European enlightenment thought (Mungello 1977). However, converts to Catholicism in East Asia during the era of Neo-Confucian philosophical dominance numbered in the hundreds of thousands, and even more were impressed with the natural philosophy, science, and technology that, along with Catholic theology, constituted Western Learning. In recent decades, scholars have debated whether those conversions to Catholicism are proof that the philosophies of Zhu Xi and Thomas Aquinas were

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compatible or whether the extremely small percentage of Chinese, Japanese, and Koreans who tried to absorb ideas from the West within their Confucian world views are the exceptions that prove the rule that the philosophies of Zhu Xi and Aquinas are incompatible. On one side of that argument is the French Sinologist Jacque Gernet. Examining the Chinese reaction to Western religion and philosophy in the seventeenth century, Gernet answered with a strong negative to the question he phrases as “whether it was possible to reconcile Christianity with a mental and socio-political system which was fundamentally different from the one within which Christianity had developed and from which it was, like it or not, inseparable. (Gernet 1985: 247). His “no” answer is already assumed in the way his question was framed. Julia Ching, a Catholic Chinese-Canadian scholar, asked a different question and came up with a different answer. She stated at the start of her meditative exploration of the relationship between Confucianism and Christianity that her “intention is always to make manifest certain similarities between the two traditions …” and she rejected the assumption that “a convert must break with his or her cultural past in order to become a Christian …” (Ching 1977: xxi–xxii). She concluded on a more positive note than Gernet had, writing that Confucianism and Christianity have significant differences, but they can learn from each other through a creative dialogue (Ching 1977: 105, 179). Even someone as interested as Ching is in bringing the Confucian philosophy of Zhu Xi and the Catholic philosophy of Aquinas together is forced to admit that there are fundamental differences in the way disciples of Zhu Xi and the followers of Aquinas define reality. Moreover, it is clear that those gaps in world views led to gaps in how human moral obligations were defined. The focus of Zhu Xi and his followers on interactions led to a concept of morality that prioritized human interactions and mutual obligations within the human community. For Aquinas and other Christians, on the other hand, morality was founded on the obligation of human beings to obey the directives of God, the transcendent and supreme Other. In the Christian view, human beings were, of course, supposed to interact appropriately with each other, but if a person’s appropriate interactions with his or her fellow human beings were not accompanied by worship of God and adherence to His laws, then that person could not be considered moral. That is why the Ten Commandments defining specific ethical obligations begin with the obligations of human beings toward God rather than with their obligations toward their fellow human beings. Studies of some of the early Chinese converts to Catholicism from Confucianism appear at first to support an argument that it was possible for a Confucian scholar to internalize the European approach to both religious and philosophical issues without abandoning the assumptions and values that defined Confucianism. After all, not long after Jesuit missionaries first arrived in China proper in the first decades of the seventeenth century, they were able to convince a few prominent Confucian scholar-­ officials to proclaim their allegiance to the Catholic faith. The most frequently-cited examples of scholar-officials who converted to Christianity without feeling the need to renounce their Confucian tradition are Li Zhizao 李之藻 (1565–1630), Xu Guangqi 徐光啟 (1562–1633), and Yang Tingyun 楊廷筠 (1557–1627) (Petersen 2010: 102–11; Liu 2015: 127–91).

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However, a closer examination reveals that these new Catholics re-interpreted Confucian ideas to fit their new Catholic perspective and, in doing so, cast aside many of the philosophical additions Zhu Xi had brought to Confucian thinking. They could be accurately described as “Confucian” Catholics, with Catholicism having priority over Confucianism such that only Confucian ideas that could be rendered compatible with their Catholic faith remained important elements of their philosophical stance toward the world. To make it easier for Confucians to become Confucian Catholics, the first generation of Jesuit missionaries tailored their message to better fit China’s Confucian environment. One scholar has argued that the seventeenth-century encounter between Neo-Confucianism and Western Learning should therefore be characterized as a dialogue, in which each side modified their original positions enough to bring those different worlds closer together (Song 2019). Nevertheless, it is clear that, in those cases in which Confucian literati proclaimed their acceptance of the teachings of Catholicism, they had leaped over the conceptual chasm that divided the core assumptions of Western Learning from the core assumptions of Neo-Confucianism, and took their stand on the Western Learning side, bringing with them only those Confucian concepts and practices that could survive in an environment dominated by Western Learning. However, there were also some Neo-Confucian scholars who were able to extract bits and pieces of scientific and technological information from Western Learning publications while leaving behind the Western philosophical and theological assumptions that data had been embedded in. One prominent example of a Neo-­ Confucian scholar who saw Western Learning as a resource he could draw on without having to make any significant changes in his core world view is Fang Yizhi 方以智 (1611–1671) (Peterson 1970: 369–467). Many more Neo-Confucians, probably the vast majority in the seventeenth and the eighteenth centuries, simply ignored Western Learning as irrelevant to their core philosophical and axiological concerns. After the first half of the seventeenth century, we no longer see prominent Neo-Confucian scholar-officials converting to Catholicism, though the government of China, in Manchu rather than Chinese hands after 1644, continued to avail itself of the technological and scientific expertise of missionaries dispatched from Europe (Witek 2016). The decision by the Vatican in the early eighteenth century to repudiate the Jesuit strategy of accommodating aspects of Confucian culture that could be plausibly re-interpreted as compatible with, rather than contradicting, Catholic beliefs and values made it more difficult for missionaries to bridge the gap between Confucianism and Western Learning (Mungello 1994). The Catholic community in China survived primarily by being passed down from early converts to their descendants or by becoming accepted as part of the local culture in regions far from the capital of Beijing (Menegon 2009). Western Learning, though it attracted the interest, and in some case the allegiance, of some important Chinese of Confucian background, never posed a serious challenge to the hegemony of Zhu Xi’s Neo-Confucianism in traditional China. Most of those who were intrigued by Western Learning publications, when they realized that they would have to choose to give priority to either Christianity or Neo-­ Confucianism, chose to stay within their native philosophical tradition. Followers of

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the philosophy of Zhu Xi could not be equally Confucian and Catholic because, as Gernet pointed out, their fundamental assumptions governing how reality and morality were defined contradicted each other. The Western philosophy that East Asian Confucians encountered in the seventeenth century was Christianized Aristotelianism. That Western philosophy had been formulated in language structured very differently from the way the Literary Sinitic used to write Neo-­ Confucian texts was structured. Those differences in linguistic grammar led to basic differences in philosophical grammar such that the types of questions that tended to be asked, and the types of answers that were considered acceptable, were fundamentally different as well.

2 Fundamental Differences in Natural Philosophy: Substance and Function The Western concept of nature East Asians encountered in the seventeenth century through publications in Chinese written or inspired by Catholic missionaries from Europe can be broadly characterized as Aristotelian (Peterson 1973). That means it focuses on things, on substances. This can be labeled a nominal orientation, since it focuses on nouns rather than verbs, on what things are rather than on what they do. As modified by Catholic theologians, it become Thomism, which was based on the assumption that the universe was filled with separate and distinct objects that depended on an external force (i.e., God) for their existence. In Thomistic natural philosophy, reality was divided into nouns (substances), on the one hand, and adjectives and verbs (attributes) on the other. In European languages, including the Latin that was the language for philosophical discourse in medieval and early modern Europe, the noun occupied the center of gravity. Nouns, and the corresponding concept of substance, are so powerful that a discussion of verbal or adjectival concepts often leads to nominalization, or “entification,” a term coined by the linguist Alfred Bloom to describe the Western tendency to “talk of properties and actions as if they were things” (Bloom 1981: 37). Transformed by entification, real becomes Reality and “to be” becomes Being. Such a tendency to transform actions, processes and qualities into abstract entities is much weaker in Literary Sinitic, the language with which Zhu Xi wrote philosophy. A verb can stand in a subject or object position within a Literary Sinitic sentence without having to be morphologically nominalized (Graham 1990: 322–411). There is no need for explicit grammatical signals to be attached to a particular verbal character to indicate that a verb has been transformed into a noun. Chad Hansen calls this “syntactic mobility” (Hansen 1985: 498). Christoph Harbsmeier prefers the term “functional suppleness” (Harbsmeier 1998: 126). Whatever label you apply to this feature of Literary Sinitic, the philosophical impact is the same: the language philosophers in the Zhu Xi tradition used to frame their arguments did not require them to distinguish as sharply between an action and an

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actor, or between a characteristic and that which that characteristic is a characteristic of, as the languages used by European philosophers did. What it did require them to do, however, was to focus on what had happened, was happening, or was likely to happen rather than on what was, is, or will be. As a result, they showed more interest in functions than in substances. Here is a classic example of this blurring of the lines between nouns and verbs in Literary Sinitic. Analects 12.11 has the line “jun jun chen chen fu fu zi zi 君君臣臣 父父子子.” In Literary Sinitic, the first term in each pair is a noun and the second term is a verb, yet they look exactly the same. The difference between nouns and verbs has to be clarified in English. Edward Slingerland, in an award-winning translation of the Analects into English, translates that line to have Confucius saying, “Let a lord be a true lord, the ministers true ministers, the father true fathers, and the sons true sons” (Slingerland 2003: 130). Note that the English translation has to distinguish morphologically between jun 君 as a noun and jun 君 as a verbal adjective, with an explicit or implied “be” in English. In Literary Sinitic, the language of philosophical discourse for Zhu Xi and his disciples, there is no need for such grammatical additions to the sentence. Therefore, for them the line between a noun and a verb, between what something is and what it does, is much more fluid. This does not mean that the language we write in totally determines how we think, but it would not be unreasonable to say that the language we write in shapes how we think, encouraging us to think in certain ways that fit better into the language we are using than to think in ways that force us to push that language in a direction it is not accustomed to. Robert Wardy argues that the fact that Jesuit missionaries, in such works as their translation of Aristotle’s Categories as Mingli tan 名理探, were able to explain Aristotelian concepts in Literary Sinitic shows that language does not significantly constrain or shape thought (Wardy 2000). However, the issue at stake is not whether the translation of alien concepts is possible but whether such translations are easily understood and widely accepted. Very few Confucian scholars paid much attention to Mingli tan, suggesting that the conceptual chasm between Confucian and Aristotelian ways of viewing the world were not overcome. In Literary Sinitic the verb is more powerful than the noun (Graham 1990: 389–428). This verbal orientation is reflected in writings about natural objects that place more emphasis on what those objects did, what their functions were, than on what sort of substance they were. In contrast, the universe as conceived by Neo-­ Confucians was not a collection of separate and distinct substances as much as it was a network of interrelated events. As in the modern process philosophy of Alfred North Whitehead (1861–1947), an object in Neo-Confucianism was conceived of as a focus for activity rather than as a locus of being (Emmet 1967). That is why a recent English translation of the Zhongyong 中庸 (The Doctrine of the Mean) rendered wu 物, normally translated as a thing, as a center of events and processes that swirl around it rather than as a separate and distinct object (Ames and Hall 2001: 81). Mainstream disciples of Zhu Xi tended to identify a wu by those patterns that determined the relationships of that wu with other wu. In other words, in the phi-

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losophy of Zhu Xi an entity was defined by how it fit into, and interacted with, its environment. The Thomistic philosophical works introduced to the Confucian world in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries formulated definitions based instead on those characteristics that distinguished things from the other things around them. The Western approach to natural objects at that time preferred to define them by separating them from their environment. This Aristotelian conception of substance as independent existence was almost incomprehensible to seventeenth- and eighteenth-century disciples of Zhu Xi who saw the entire universe in functional terms, as one vast interrelated organism, and were more interested in how things interacted with other things around them than with what things were in themselves. Zhu Xi’s conception of the natural world, rather than being centered on the separate and distinct components of the universe, was more focused on determining how those components interacted with each other within the all-encompassing cosmic network of such interactions (Kim 2000: 172–205). This reflects the verbal orientation of Literary Sinitic, in contrast to the nominal orientation of languages used in the West. Though Confucians weighed and measured individual objects, and used mathematical formulae to predict the course of natural processes, they did not attempt to create mathematical formulae, such as the law of gravity, which applied across a wide range of phenomena because they did not view the material realm as defined by invariable mathematical laws of universal applicability. Rather, mathematical descriptions of phenomena were seen as specific to those particular phenomena within particular contexts (Kim 2000: 298). As Zhu Xi and his disciples conceived the universe, each and every object was defined by the totality of its interactions, and no two objects had the exact same set of interactions, and therefore no two objects would react the same way to the exact same stimulus. That is the prime reason they were not interested in rigid experimental verification. Because they did not assume the regularity in the universe that underlies the modern understanding of nature, they had no expectation that a manipulation of a natural object by one person in one environment would have the exact same result as a manipulation of a similar object in a similar environment. Moreover, because they thought in terms of interactions rather than inert substances, they shared recognition of the observer effect with modern physicists. They assumed that the very act of observing something, that is to say, measuring or manipulating it, changes it, and since every interaction is slightly different from every other interaction, every result of such interaction will be at least slightly different from every result of a similar interaction. To them, that meant that whether or not an experiment could be replicated was irrelevant. Similarly, because those Neo-Confucians who thought systematically about nature did not share the concern of modern scientists for mathematical analysis and experimental verification, they did not feel any need to define their terms as precisely as terms are defined in modern science. Key terms in pre-modern natural philosophy were too vague to permit the sort of measurements and manipulation that would make predictive accuracy possible. How do you measure such essential components of Zhu Xi’s natural philosophy as li 理 (guiding patterns), qi 氣 (configuring and

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vitalizing matter-energy), or yin 陰 and yang 陽 (complementary forces and processes)? Yet predictive accuracy is a hallmark of modern science and technology. Modern scientists have dropped the use of such nebulous terms in favor of terms that can be rigidly defined mathematically and physically so that they can use those terms to more precisely predict how natural objects will behave. Of course, Neo-Confucians were not the only ones who used terms which were not susceptible to scientific measurement and physical manipulation to talk about natural forces. The books on Western natural philosophy the missionaries from Europe introduced to East Asia were also more focused on qualities than quantities. However, the qualities they focused on were the qualities that differentiated individual objects, such as the quality of wood that defined a tree versus the quality of water that defined what was in a river, while the qualitative forces Koreans were interested in, such as yin and yang, were the qualities that were manifest in interactions. To sum up, we can say that the natural philosophy Western missionaries introduced to the Neo-Confucian world was noun-centered and focused on specific substances while the natural philosophy Neo-Confucians brought to that encounter with the West was verb-centered and focused on patterns of interactions.

3 Contrasting Approaches to Abstractions and “Investigating Things” A second significant difference between how the natural world was conceptualized in the philosophy of Zhu Xi and how it was conceived in the philosophy constituting “Western Learning” can be seen in the differences in the way they formulated abstractions. In the Thomistic Aristotelianism of “Western Learning,” abstractions were formed by the severing of relationships, by isolating concepts from their embodiment in concrete contexts in order to apprehend them in terms of how they differ from everything else. For example, to come up with a definition of an abstract dog, you were supposed to ignore differences in color and size and concentrate instead of what all dogs have in common: four legs, fur, a snout, and an ability to bark. The result is colorless and has no exact physical counterpart, since size is ignored, but it corresponds to the abstract notion of a dog, as abstractions were conceived in the Aristotelian West. In the philosophy formulated by Zhu Xi, on the other hand, abstractions were created by the expansion of correlations. Entities were defined in terms of their interrelationships, more as verbs than as nouns. What something was, was the role it played in the complex fabric of interactions that was its setting. As a result, an abstraction had to embrace rather than exclude the particulars of the various ways it was manifest. Otherwise, defining features of its identity would be excluded. A prime example of the Neo-Confucian approach to abstraction is the term li 理. Li is the ultimate abstraction, since that term refers to not only the specific principles that

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define what something should do but is also the name of the all-encompassing cosmic network of appropriate interactions that connects everything in the universe to everything else. Li therefore, unlike a traditional Western abstraction, cannot exclude anything, or at least cannot exclude anything that is normative, which defines how things should interact. As further evidence of the breadth of Neo-­ Confucian abstraction, li can also function as a verb with the meaning of “to put in order.” In the Neo-Confucian understanding of this term, it embraces both verbal and nominal connotations: though lacking any consciousness or intention, it nonetheless guides the cosmos toward perfect harmony while at the same time it is the network of principles that defines that perfect harmony. Qi 氣, often translated as “matter-energy,” is another example of how much Thomism and the philosophy of Zhu Xi differed in the manner in which they constructed abstractions. Even in the broadest use of the term that was the closest equivalent to qi in Thomistic Europe, ether, it was seen as separate and distinct from other elements such as water and stone that formed the material world. In the philosophy of Zhu Xi, however, there was nothing even remotely material that was not qi in some form or another. In fact, for Zhu Xi, qi was essential for things to have both shape and motion. Without qi, there would be no interactions in the universe because there would be no things to interact. The philosophy behind “Western Learning” conceptualized ether by extracting it from other substances, defining it by stating how different it was from them. Zhu Xi promoted the opposite approach, seeing qi as that which created differentiations through its different coagulations but nevertheless remaining basically the same universal qi which provided the matter-energy all things were made of. The greater the degree of abstraction in the version of Western philosophy introduced to East Asia in the seventeenth century, the greater the degree of removal from the actual environment. That Western philosophy was brought to the Confucian world by Jesuit priests. For those Catholic missionaries, God was the supreme abstraction, and as such was completely above and beyond the world men and women know. In the philosophy of Zhu Xi, on the other hand, the greater the degree of abstraction, the wider and more comprehensive the web of relationships that was spun. One of Neo-Confucianism’s supreme abstractions, taiji 太極 (the Supreme Polarity), was all-inclusive, consisting of all the potential strands of interrelationships in the cosmic network of patterns of appropriate interactions that molded and directed the functions and characteristics of all that was. The Western process of abstracting produced precise definitions of concepts and clear delineations of what something was and what it was not. Such precision was not necessarily a good thing to followers of Zhu Xi. To specify what something was, it was necessary to specify what it was not. Since li, understood as the all-­ encompassing network of appropriate interconnections, also referred to ultimate value, as well as the ultimate source of value, it was more important to point out how things related to each other (what their li was) than how they differed from each other. Emphasizing what something was not risked making it appear less valuable, less worthy of our attention. Neo-Confucians preferred inclusion to exclusion. Everything was assumed to be related to everything else. Therefore, to decisively

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exclude a defining component from an important term risked creating an incomplete, and therefore misleading, definition, one that was less persuasive to Confucians because it threatened to unravel the unity li provided. One result of these different approaches to abstractions, reinforced by the corresponding differences in orientations toward substances or functions, were differences in how philosophical arguments were framed. The Jesuits were proud of their deductive logic. In their theology as well as in their natural philosophy and in their mathematics, they presented what they considered to be unassailable statements of fact and then deduced implications of those statements which they considered to be, therefore, equally unassailable. For example, they would say it is the nature of liquids to flow downhill. Water flows downhill. Therefore, water is a liquid. (Such syllogisms about the natural world were more easily accepted by Confucians than syllogisms about supernatural beings such as God.) One of the reasons Jesuit missionaries introduced Euclid’s Elements to Chinese not long after they began preaching Catholicism in China was that they wanted to get the Chinese to adopt, and trust, their method of reasoning both about nature and about God. As one of Ricci’s Collegues, Fr. Nicolas Trigault, pointed out: In the course of the centuries, God has shown more than one way of drawing men to Him. Whoever may think that ethics, physics, and mathematics are not important in the work of the Church is unacquainted with the taste of the Chinese, who are slow to take a salutary spiritual potion, unless it be seasoned with an intellectual flavoring. It was by means of a knowledge of European science, new to the Chinese, that Father Ricci amazed the entire philosophical world of China, proving the truth of its novelty by sound and logical reasoning. (Gallager 1953: 325)

However, for such syllogisms to appear logical in the Western philosophical system of the time, they had to be built from precise definitions, which is not the way Neo-­ Confucian philosophizing worked. The closed logic of those Western syllogisms was contrary to the Confucian preference for an open logic that was based on inferences rather than deductions. Rather than moving from broad general statements to particulars the way Western logic did, Neo-Confucians preferred to infer generalizations from a number of specific and concrete particulars. As Kim Yung Sik explained, in the Western tradition, “it was general principles that took precedence; particular facts were subject to explanation in terms of general principles. [For Neo-­ Confucians], it was almost the opposite. Particular empirical facts were accepted: there was no search for basic general principles embodied in the facts” (Kim 2000: 298). Both approaches to constructing abstractions were intended to provide useful information, predictions of natural behavior that could be used to guide us in our interactions with natural objects. However, for Westerners, particulars had to be grounded in generalizations for those predictions to be trustworthy. For Neo-­ Confucians, generalizations had to be grounded in particulars to ensure that they were relevant. Both Westerners and Neo-Confucians were interested in the “investigation of things” (gewu 格物), as Zhu Xi and his disciples phrased it. They both wanted to gain a better understanding of how things operated in the natural world. However,

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not only was their approach to that endeavor different, even their goals for investigating things were different. First of all, Westerners at that time, or at least the Westerners who wrote the books Neo-Confucians were reading in the seventeenth century, investigated things in order to understand the will of God embodied in those things (Lindberg and Numbers 1986). Neo-Confucians investigated things to discern the cosmic pattern reflected within them so that they could unselfishly operate in unison with that pattern. In other words, the ultimate goal of the Western investigation of things was theological, while the Neo-Confucian goal was centered on this world. In addition, the Western investigation of things was based on a Thomistic vision of the world as externally-organized, externally-regulated, and externally-generated, the opposite of the Neo-Confucian vision of the world as self-­ organizing, self-generating, self-regulating, and self-designed. Moreover, the Catholic missionaries from Europe approached nature with the analytical approach of the West in which the cosmos is composed of discrete, distinct building blocks. Such an approach stands in sharp contrast to the holistic, synthetic perspective of Neo-Confucianism focused on interactions. The result was that Neo-Confucians had difficulty understanding what Westerners were saying about the natural world and, when they did understand it, they often found Western argument trivial or even unconvincing.

4 God, the Supreme Polarity, and Li These differences over whether emphasis should be placed on substance or on function, and over how to construct abstractions, were manifest in the many publications Western missionaries in China in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries produced on astronomy, medicine, and mathematics. Those missionaries hoped to convince Neo-Confucians in East Asia that the European vision of the substances that formed the cosmos was accurate, that the way they conceived the substances that constituted the human body provided a solid basis for effective medical practice, and the deductive methods they used to arrive at mathematical truths were reliable. Most Confucian scholars who encountered those claims about Western Learning in writings on astronomy, anatomy, and mathematics were able to extract bits and pieces of information they felt useful from the writings that contained them while ignoring or explicitly rejecting the assumptions that provided the foundation on which the Westerners based their claims (Baker 1983, 1990, 2012). The divide between how followers of Zhu Xi and how proponents of Western Learning thought about not just natural philosophy but philosophical issues in general is also obvious in their respective concepts of the Absolute. God and the Supreme Polarity (taiji 太極) represent totally different approaches to conceiving the Absolute. God is transcendent, above the world. Western Learning advocates believed God created and ruled over the universe. The Supreme Polarity, in contrast, was totally immanent, operating within the world it generated, penetrated, and directed. As Zhu Xi explained:

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The Supreme Polarity (taiji 太極) is nothing other than the immanent guiding network of patterns (li 理) for the entire cosmos. When we speak in terms of heaven and earth, we say that the Supreme Polarity is immanent within heaven and earth. When we speak in terms of the myriad things, we say that the each of those myriad things has its own Supreme Polarity complete within it. (Zhu 1962: [1] 1a)

The gap between God and the universe He created resulted in a vision of a universe that was ontologically open because it was dependent on something outside it. In contrast, the immanence of the Supreme Polarity resulted in a vison of a universe that was ontologically closed because it was totally self-sufficient. This difference in ontological conceptions of the universe was partially driven by differences in grammar. Indo-European languages such as Latin require clear distinctions between the singular and the plural, rendering Zhu Xi’s explanation of the Supreme Polarity as both one and many difficult to grasp by those who relied on Latin to understand the world philosophically and making it easy to articulate a sharp distinction between the one God who created the world and the multiplicity of creations within that world. In contrast, the ambiguity of the Chinese language, with no demands for grammatical distinctions between singular and plural, encouraged a collapse of the many into the one simultaneously with the expansion of the one into the many. Li in the statement above by Zhu Xi refers to the patterns of appropriate interactions that both determine how individual objects and processes in the universe should interact and, because all interactions are interactions with something else which then interacts with something else, link everything in the cosmos into one universal network of li. The Sinograph li 理 could, therefore, refer to a specific individual pattern of interaction (li 理), a set of related patterns (li 理), or the all-embracing universal network of patterns (li 理) with no morphological changes, suggesting to Neo-­ Confucians a unity where Western grammatical signals indicated diversity (Graham 1992: 57–58). This unified diversity and diversified unity embraced all things, including human beings and the things they interacted with. As two men Zhu Xi learned from, Cheng Hao 程顥 (1032–1085) and Cheng Yi 程頤 (1033–1107), explained: “The defining and directing pattern of one thing is one with the defining and directing Pattern of all things” (Cheng and Cheng 1936: [2A] 1a; Chan 1963: 551). This intermingling of the singular and the plural was confusing for Europeans trained in the Christianized Aristotelianism that provided the core of Western Learning, because the grammar that shaped both their language and their philosophy differentiated sharply between the one and the many, and between the particular and the universal. This is made explicit in the philosophy articulated by Aquinas, who wrote in his Summa Theologica “the idea of one consists in indivisibility; and the idea of multitude contains division. Therefore one and many are opposed to each other” (Aquinas 1948: 64). This led to the conclusion that God must be indivisible since God is pure actuality and as a result there can be no division within God of what He is and what He potentially can be (Aquinas 1948: 31, 68–69). Any such

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division would mean that God was less than fully perfect, and a less than fully perfect being would not be God (Aquinas 1948: 34–35). The Supreme Polarity, on the other hand, could be labeled pure potential. Before the first movement within the Supreme Polarity of yin and yang that issued forth the Five Phases, which in turn were shaped by li into the myriad things, there was nothing other than the Supreme Polarity. All that would be would originate from the Supreme Polarity. Yet within the Supreme Polarity itself nothing existed … yet. And the Supreme Polarity, when conceived as nothing but potential, could also be labeled the Non-Polarity (wuji 無極) (Adler 2014: 111–36). The Supreme Polarity did not share with God the title of Creator, in the sense of a Supreme Being existing outside the material universe who brought the universe into existence. Instead, the Supreme Polarity was the metaphysical, not the material or chronological, wellspring of the universe. It was not thought of as some concrete entity that existed apart in time or space from that which it was the source of. In other words, the Supreme Polarity was not a substance. The phrase “Supreme Polarity” was used by Zhu Xi to convey his insight that all the specific normative patterns of interrelationships determining what is and what should be were themselves interrelated and that their combined interrelationships formed the network which linked human beings to the cosmos and everything ultimately to everything else. All that was, existed as a part of, and functioned in accordance with, one all-encompassing Cosmic Pattern. The Supreme Polarity was nothing more than that pattern undifferentiated. The featureless, indeterminate non-actualized character of the Supreme Polarity was difficult for European scholars of Western Learning to grasp. Pure potential would be nothing, according to the assumptions of their philosophy, and nothing could not be the origin, source, or ground of anything. Thomistic philosophers instead posited the ultimate ground of reality to be pure actualization, which, as we have seen, was their definition of God. God was all he, or anything, could possibly be. That was what made creation possible, since Thomistic philosophy assumed that a cause could not impart what it itself did not possess. By contrast, the Supreme Polarity was the diametrical opposite of God, since it contained no actualization whatsoever. Potentiality and actuality are abstract terms that do not appear as such in Neo-­ Confucian writings. The preferred way for Zhu Xi and his followers to distinguish potentially and actuality was the use the dyad ti-yong 體用. Ti 體 literally means body, and yong 用 literally means to use. However, in the dyad ti-yong, those Sinographs should be understood as referring to respectively what something could do and what it did when that potential was actualized. They were therefore inseparable, since potential meant nothing more than that which could be actualized, and actualization was only possible of something that had the potential to be activated. Moreover, since everything had the potential to be connected to everything else through the universal web of defining and directing patterns of appropriate interactions, everything could be said to have the same ti. Proponents of Western Learning found such an assertion of universal identity to be nonsensical. They were driven to that conclusion because they read ti, in the

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­ eo-­Confucian claim that all things are organically connected, as saying that all N things have the same body, which, if body is understood literally as a physical body, is logically impossible (Ricci 2016: 184–91). However, that is clearly not what Zhu Xi and his disciples meant when they said that all things share one ti. They meant instead that everything has the same potential to interact with everything around it and to do so in accord with the all-encompassing network of appropriate interactions. There was a conceptual chasm between Western Learning, which was built on a foundation of independent substances which could not be merged without losing their identity, and Zhu Xi’s Neo-Confucianism, which assumed that li, the patterns of appropriate interactions, defines what things are and therefore it was through interactions, not by standing apart as a separate and distinct entity, that things were defined. That chasm was difficult, if not impossible, to bridge. Not only did the substance-orientation of Western Learning make it difficult for its European proponents to comprehend what Zhu Xi meant when he talked about the Supreme Polarity and the unity of all things, it also made it difficult for them to understand what made li li. Because of their focus on individual substances, Thomistic philosophers saw li, since it did not exist apart from individual substances, as of secondary importance. In the terminology of Thomism, li was an attribute, something that could be talked about only when the substance it was an attribute of was already in existence (Ricci 2016: 82–93). On top of that, the Thomistic focus on inert substance assumed that causation was external, which in turn led to the assertion that the ultimate cause of everything was God, who was far above and beyond everything that existed in this world. This was the complete opposite of the approach of Zhu Xi, in which all that was and would be was potentially contained within the Supreme Polarity. Moreover, what the Supreme Polarity contained was li, which defined both what things were and what they should do. In fact, the two were the same: what something was when it was fully what it was supposed to be was nothing more than what it should do. In the function orientation of Zhu Xi’s philosophy, things were defined more by their appropriate interactions than by the substances that engaged in those interactions. This means that li could not be an attribute, since it was essential to what something was. This also means that creation could not be the work of an external force operating at a specific point in time to produce things. Instead, creation was an ongoing process of the li of things creating the things it was the li of by directing the interactions that defined them. Thomistic philosophy saw the world as closed in time but ontologically open. The Christian universe had a true beginning in time, which meant that, before it could come into existence, something outside the universe had to serve as its cause. That something was God. Without a supernatural being, beyond space and time yet reaching out with His will to create and sustain space and time, the world would be without a foundation. Zhu Xi’s philosophy assumed the converse. His universe was open in time but ontologically closed. As he conceived it, the world had always existed, or rather was constantly coming into existence, and could not be said to have sprung into existence at some specific point in time. Therefore, there was no need to look beyond the universe for some external cause. In fact, there could be no

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beyond to look into. The universe was all there was and thus served as its own foundation.

5 Contrasting Concepts of Cognition The contrast between the assumptions of Zhu Xi’s philosophy and those of Western Learning in the priority given to either substance or function, over the preferred approach to constructing abstractions, and over how to conceive of the Absolute had concrete implications in their contrasting approaches to epistemology. Students of Zhu Xi’s philosophy do not detect much, if any, concern for epistemological issues of the sort that Europeans have argued about for centuries. In fact, if epistemology involves questioning how human beings can determine if what they think they know about a particular thing is valid or not, then there is no “epistemology” in the philosophy of Zhu Xi. He, and his followers, generally assumed that the human heart-mind was capable of accurate knowledge, which to him meant knowledge of the patterns in things and processes that defined appropriate interactions. As he explained, all it took to gain accurate knowledge of those patterns was to clear the heart-mind of the biases introduced by self-centered thoughts and feelings. Once the heart-mind was free of such distortions, it would be able to see clearly the patterns that it needed to align with. (Zhu 1714: [44] 14a) As Zhu Xi explained in his commentary on the Daxue 大學 (The Great Learning), “what is manifest or hidden, what is fine or coarse, will in all cases be reached” (Johnston and Wang 2012: 151). Zhu Xi’s insistence on the potential of the heart-mind to learn all it needed to learn was based on his assumption that all the defining principles that could be found in the external world were also present within the human heart-mind. (Zhu 1714: [44] 12b) Identifying those principles, by “investigating things,” was possible because the defining principles within our heart-mind needed only to resonate with those same principles in the external world (Kim 2000: 21). In other words, accurate knowledge was a matter of connecting, of recognizing and actualizing the underlying unity between our heart-mind and everything around us. There were therefore no grounds for doubting that accurate knowledge was possible. Nor did Zhu Xi feel it necessary to delve into details of how accurate knowledge was possible. Since he did not assume an ontological gap between the knower and the known, between the defining principles in our heart-mind and the defining principles in the external world, Zhu Xi was much more concerned with the moral implications of knowledge than he was with evaluating its validity. He never questioned that we could know what we need to know. His primary concern was how we could actualize our innate potential to acquire complete and reliable knowledge. It is the outcome, not the methodology, of investigating things which was the focus of his attention. Zhu Xi’s concern for unity, seen in his lack of concern over gaps between the perceiver and the perceived, is also evident in how he defines the heart-mind itself. Though it contains all the defining principles in the universe, he makes clear in his preface to his Zhongyong zhangju 中庸章句 (The Zhongyong in Chapter and Verse)

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that the heart-mind should be viewed as integrated rather than analyzed into separate and distinct elements. The heart-mind’s unobstructed and penetrating knowing and perceiving are indivisible. Some distinguish between a “human heart-mind” and a “moral heart-mind.” If that were actually the case, then the human heart-mind would originate in the selfishness of the flesh and the moral heart-mind would have its origins in the virtuous nature heaven has endowed and therefore what they knew and perceived would not be the same.… But no human being exists without a body, therefore no one, no matter how wise he is, is missing a “human heart-mind.” And no human being is without a virtuous nature, therefore no one, no matter how stupid he is, lacks a “moral heart-mind.” (Johnston and Wang 2012: 400)

Though he recognized the appearance of diversity in the way the heart-mind operated, Zhu Xi stressed that beneath that apparent duality in how the heart-mind worked there was an underlying unity. The oft-quoted phrase liyi fenshu 理一分殊 (the cosmic pattern is one but it is manifested in many constituent interrelationships) was a succinct formulation of the Neo-Confucian axiom that patterns of interaction, by defining the specific roles individual human beings, things, and events play in the universal natural and social order, intertwined to form one comprehensive network governing the totality of interrelationships which constitutes reality. The investigation of things, what the heart-mind did when it was engaged in unobstructed penetrating, was the step human beings took to discover where they fit into that complex web. The extension of knowledge which resulted enabled them to identify and follow specific manifestations of the universal pattern within that network, overcoming the alienating effects of differentiation and actualizing their potential for sincerity (the ability to operate as a member of a larger whole rather than as a separate and distinct individual), which freed them from the selfishness that divides one human being from another, and human beings from nature. The Thomistic approach to discussing cognition, on the other hand, assumed the fundamental reality of differentiation. A major problem for philosophers in the Western Learning tradition, given their denial of the ultimate unity of the universe, was finding an explanation for the power of the mind to bridge the gap between thought and thing and produce knowledge of the external world. This becomes especially apparent in an early eighteenth-century Korean criticism of an early seventeenth-century Jesuit introduction to Thomistic psychology. Lingyan lishao 靈言 蠡勺 (A humble attempt at explaining matters pertaining to the soul) was an explication of late medieval European theories of cognition provided by Francesco Sambiasi (1582–1649) in a Chinese-language rendering of the Aristotelian text De Anima (On the Soul) (Shen 2009; Meynard 2017). In the 1720s a young Korean follower of Zhu Xi, Shin Hudam 愼後聃 (1702–1761), borrowed a copy of that text, along with some other products of Western Learning, from an older Confucian scholar, Yi Ik 李瀷 (1681–1763). Though Yi was impressed with some features of Western Learning, Shin was not. Zhu Xi’s metaphysical vision, which placed the one in the many and the many in the one rather than separating them into separate spheres, eliminated any need for the elaborate epistemological gymnastics articulated in Lingyan Lishao. Sambiasi analyzed the acquisition of knowledge into a series of discrete steps, each handled

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by a separate faculty (mental power). First there were the five external senses (sight, hearing, smell, taste, and touch), which convey raw sensation to the brain. They were called the external senses since it was through them and only through them that human beings could directly receive information from the material objects that lay outside the immaterial realm of the mind. These five external senses had no power to organize or correlate the sensory impressions they received. They simply passed on to the internal senses a disorganized assortment of sensations. The internal senses took this jumble of sense data and reworked it into a form usable by the mind. First, there was what Thomas Aquinas called the “sensus communis,” that faculty which received the separate sense impressions from the various external senses and combined them to form one coherent image. Next that image was stabilized by the imagination so that it would linger after the transitory sense impressions faded. The cogitative sense then evaluated that image as good or bad, useful or useless, dangerous or benign. In the fourth step the image, along with its evaluation, was stored in the memory for future reference and correlation with past experience. Human beings shared with animals the five external senses and the four internal senses. They surpassed animals and rose to a higher level of being by their ability to understand what they had sensed. Sambiasi drew a Thomistic portrait of this uniquely human capacity for understanding as a product of cooperation between two separate and distinct mental faculties that he differentiated as an active processing intellect and a passive receiving intellect. The processing intellect first erased all individualizing non-essentials from an image that had been processed through the internal senses. In trying to understand something, the mind does not grasp the concrete individual itself. It has to strip away the particular physical shell and carefully unveil the generic elements that are not directly visible as such to the senses. The individual concrete object is a particular. The subtle generic elements are universals. (Sambiasi 1976: 320)

Only after the processing intellect had freed the universals from the image of the individual object in which they were encased could the receiving intellect grasp the principles of that object and reach understanding. Shin found this Thomistic analytical description of the activities of the intellect “a verbal game played with meaningless concepts” (Shin 1971: 49). For example, Shin declared the distinction between external and internal senses “unreasonable,” since the heart-mind is the seat of all perception and the external senses are merely the tools through which the heart-mind contacts the outside world. “Though we reach and become aware of things through our eyes and ears, do we say that it is our eyes and ears that perceive them or is it our heart-mind that does the perceiving?” (Shin 1971: 48) Shin was also bothered by Sambiasi’s description of the mind perceiving material things and then transforming them into non-material things, which Sambiasi called “images” or “sensible species,” which are then stored in the memory (Meynard 2015: 214–25). This focus on things, on material and immaterial substances, rather than on the function and purpose of the heart-mind was, in Shin’s view, a waste of time. Shin preferred to concentrate on the unity of the heart-mind

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that was exercising all those functions rather than on the complex diversity of the functions themselves and what they produced: It is the heart-mind that illuminates and therefore it is in the heart-mind that understanding takes place, and it is in the heart-mind that movement originates. That is why we Confucians say the heart-mind through its luminous consciousness rules the body. If the heart-mind is not responsible for memory, reasoning, and the ability to interact with one’s fellow human beings, then what is? (Shin 1971: 51)

Shin stood firmly within the parameters of Zhu Xi’s psychological vision in which the heart-mind represented the moral power possessed by human beings to perceive the world around them in such a way that they would choose to act properly in their relationships with their fellow human beings. Such a focus on cognition as the power to see in the world around us how we should interact with that world was both process-oriented and outward-oriented and rendered irrelevant the concern Sambiasi and other advocates of Western Learning showed for the things produced within the mind in the process of cognition. Moreover, in Shin’s view, focusing on the “sensible images” constructed by the heart-mind was looking in the wrong direction. Instead, our efforts should be concentrated on identifying the li in things and processes around us. As an orthodox follower of Zhu Xi, Shin understood li as dynamic pattern rather than a static substance. He envisioned li as a formative force that gave shape and purpose to qi and thus created and sustained concrete existence rather than as some lifeless logical phantasm abstracted from concrete existence. Li, as Shin understood it, did not require a human heart-mind to activate it: Sambiasi, caught up in his own foolish thoughts, insists that all the phenomena in the universe are nothing but myriad images created to serve the intellect.… He does not recognize that the li of things are as they are in themselves and are nothing which human beings through their power to know them can add to or subtract from. (Shin 1971: 171)

Moreover, Shin believed that the Catholic effort to rip li, or, as Sambiasi called it, “sensible species,” from the specific settings in which they were found destroyed the unity of the concrete context in which human beings engaged in moral interactions and led to empty abstractions (Shin 1971: 57). When humanity, nature, and heaven are one, with no sharp ontological gaps between the physical and the mental world, there is no need to explain how the heart-mind can know material objects. The “corporeal” world of physical entities and the “immaterial” world of the heart-mind represented to Shin and other disciples of Zhu Xi different stages on a continuum of being, not qualitatively distinct categories of existence. Mind-matter dualism, which looms so large in the history of Western thought and posed such epistemological problems for Westerners, was obviated in orthodox Zhu Xi thought.

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6 Conclusion It was not totally impossible for advocates of Western Learning and proponents of the philosophy of Zhu Xi to understand each other. Shin Hudam, for example, understood the gist of the Aristotelian arguments Sambiasi was making. And, as we saw with Li Zhizao, Xu Guangqi, and Yang Tingyun, it was not unheard of for someone steeped in the fundamental assumptions of Zhu Xi’s philosophy to replace them with the assumptions behind Western Learning. However, it was difficult for the vast majority of those who followed the path Zhu Xi had blazed to be persuaded by someone who based his arguments on the assumptions of Aristotle and Thomas Aquinas, and vice versa. To the Europeans in China in the seventeenth century, the Neo-Confucian approach to abstractions created concepts too broadly-defined and inclusive to be of any use in logical reasoning. To the Neo-Confucians who encountered European philosophical writings, European abstractions were too far removed from concrete reality to serve as practical guides to moral conduct. To those Europeans, an emphasis on function over substance ignored the importance of specific substances, including the specific substances they valued the most: God and the individual human soul. To orthodox disciples of Zhu Xi, an emphasis on substance over function overlooked the (to them) obvious fact that human beings were human beings because of the way they acted and interacted and therefore it was more important to stress their proper functioning than emphasize what human beings “were” when their actions were not taken into account. To Europeans who looked for an external explanation for both why things were the way they were and what those things should do, the Neo-Confucian insistence that our focus should be on immanent principles, the patterns within defining what things were in terms of what they should do, was dangerous since it turned human attention away from God above who was the origin of all things. To Neo-Confucians, concentration on some transcendent Being, existing in a totally different realm from our own, would keep us from concentrating on the actual world in which we lived and in which we needed to act appropriately in order to become fully human. And, to Europeans, a focus on unity rather than diversity blinded Neo-Confucians to the actual world of separate and distinct substances, while, to Neo-Confucians, a focus on diversity rather than underlying unity blinded advocates of Western Learning to the interactive character of the world in which human beings were embedded. Since the seventeenth-century encounter between Western Learning and the philosophy of Zhu Xi, much has changed. Western philosophy has moved beyond Christianized Aristotelianism and, though it still tends to rely on substances and abstractions extracted from concrete realty in constructing philosophical depictions of reality, it has diversified enough that there now is room for such function-oriented approaches as process philosophy. In what once was the Neo-Confucian realm of East Asia, Zhu Xi’s metaphysics has retreated to the classrooms of history and philosophy departments and no longer shapes the way the average educated person views the world around him or her. Instead, even though Confucian ethical rhetoric retains much of its traditional power, philosophies originating in the West dominate

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both philosophical and everyday reasoning. Nevertheless, to appreciate how far both East Asia and the Western world have traveled in the last few centuries, it is important to understand how different their dominant philosophies were from each other in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. Only when we understand how different they were then can we understand how much they have influenced each other to create the intertwined philosophical world we find ourselves in today.

References Adler, Joseph A. 2014. Reconstructing the Confucian Dao: Zhu Xi’s Appropriation of Zhou Dunyi. Albany: State University of New York Press. (An argument that the idea of the interpenetration of activity and stillness, which underlay Zhu Xi’s spiritual practice, came from Zhou Dunyi.) Ames, Roger T., and David L. Hall. 2001. Focusing the Familiar: A Translation and Philosophical Interpretation of the Zhongyong. Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press. (A translation of the Zhongyong 中庸 [The Doctrine of the Mean] designed to reflect the translator’s assumption that this classic should be approached through the prism of interactions of processes and events.) Aquinas, Thomas. 1948. Summa Theologica. In Anton E. Pegis, ed., Introduction to St. Thomas Aquinas. New York: Random House. (Translated excerpts of the writings of Thomas Aquinas.) Baker, Don. 1983. “Jesuit Science Through Korean Eyes.” Journal of Korean Studies 4: 207–39. (An analysis of why most Korean Neo-Confucians rejected the fundamental assumptions of the natural philosophy Catholic missionaries brought in East Asia in the seventeenth-century.) ———. 1990. “Sirhak Medicine: Measles, Smallpox, and Chong Tasan.” Korean Studies 14: 135–66. (A dissection of how different Neo-Confucian and Western concepts of the body, and of the causes of, and remedies for, bodily dysfunctions, were.) ———. 2012. “Impotent Numbers: Korean Confucian Reactions to Jesuit Mathematics.” The Korean Journal for the History of Science 34.2: 227–56. (An analysis of why the Jesuit strategy of using the logic in Euclid’s Elements to attract Korean Neo-Confucians to Christianity was rarely successful.) Bloom, Alfred. 1981. The Linguistic Shaping of Thought Hillsdale. New Jersey: Lawrence Erlbaun Associates. (An argument that the words we use, and the grammar we rely on, influences the sorts of questions we raise as well as the answers to those questions we deem most plausible.) Chan, Wing-tsit. 1963. A Source Book in Chinese Philosophy. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Cheng, Hao 程顥, and Cheng Yi 程頤. 1936. Surviving Works of the Cheng Brothers 二程遺書, part of The Complete Works of the Two Chengs 二程全書. Shanghai 上海: Zhonghua shuju 中 華書局. Ching, Julia. 1977. Confucianism and Christianity. Tokyo: Kodansha International. Emmet, Dorothy M. 1967. “Whitehead, Alfred North.” In Paul Edwards, ed., Encyclopedia of Philosophy, vol. 8. New York: Macmillan. Gallagher, Louis J., trans. 1953. China in the Sixteenth Century: The Journals of Matthew Ricci, 1583–1610. New York: Random House. (It provides insights in how Matteo Ricci reacted to Chinese and Chinese culture.) Gernet, Jacques. 1985. China and the Christian Impact: A Conflict of Cultures, translated by Janet Lloyd. New York: Cambridge University Press. (An influential argument that the basic assumptions of Christianity and Neo-Confucianism are incompatible.) Graham, Angus C. 1990. Studies in Chinese Philosophy and Philosophical Literature. Albany: State University of New  York Press. (A collection of articles grappling with various issues raised by A. C. Graham in his publications on Chinese thought.)

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———. 1992. Two Chinese Philosophers: The Metaphysics of the Brothers Ch’eng. La Salle: Open Court. (An influential study of the philosophies of the two brothers who greatly influenced Zhu Xi.) Hansen, Chad. 1985. “Chinese Language, Philosophy, and ‘Truth.’” Journal of Asian Studies 44.3: 491–519. (An argument that Chinese philosophers were more concerned about what was appropriate than what was true.) Harbsmeier, Christoph. 1998. Language and Logic, vol. 7 part 1 of Science and Civilization in China, edited by Joseph Needham. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. (An argument that the Chinese language was capable to dealing with logic and questions of truth or falsity.) Johnston, Ian, and WANG Ping, trans., and annot. 2012. Daxue and Zhongyong: Bilingual Edition. Hong Kong: Chinese University Press. (A useful translation of the Daxue and Zhongyong accompanied by the commentaries of Zheng Xuan, Kong Yingda, and Zhu Xi.) Kim, Yung Sik. 2000. The Natural Philosophy of Chu Hsi (1130–1200). Philadelphia: American Philosophical Society. (An overview of Zhu Xi’s natural philosophy by a scholar trained in both philosophy and science.) Lindberg, David C., and Ronald Numbers, eds. 1986. God and Nature: Historical Essays on the Encounter Between Christianity and Science. Berkeley: University of California Press. (A collection of articles dealing primarily with how Christian thinkers in Europe dealt with the dramatic changes in how the natural world was conceived at the beginning of the modern era.) Liu, Yu. 2015. Harmonious Disagreements: Matteo Ricci and his closest Chinese friends. New York: Peter Lang. (A study of Chinese who encountered Matteo Ricci and found his ideas intriguing and even, in some cases, persuasive.) Menegon, Eugenio. 2009. Ancestors, Virgins, and Friars: Christianity as a Local Religion in Late Imperial China. Cambridge: Harvard University Asia Center. (A study of Catholicism in China’s Fujian province.) Meynard, Thierry. 2015. “The First Treatise on the Soul in China and its sources: an examination of the Spanish edition of Lingyan lishao by Duceux.” Revista Filosófica de Coimbra 47: 203–42. (A study of the first introduction of the ideas in Aristotle’s De Anima to China.) ———. 2017. “Aristotelian Works in Seventeenth-century China.” Monumenta Serica 65.1: 61–85. (A survey of Jesuit attempts in the seventeenth-century to translation Aristotelian concepts into Chinese.) Mungello, David E. 1977. Leibniz and Confucianism: The Search for Accord. Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press. (An examination of an attempt by a European philosopher to incorporate insights from Confucian philosophy into his own philosophy.) ———, ed. 1994. The Chinese Rites Controversy: Its History and Meaning. Nettetal: Steyler Verl. (A collection of articles on the unfolding of, and the reasons for, the dispute over whether Confucian ancestral rites were idolatrous.) Peterson, Willard J.  1970. “Fang I-chih: Western Learning and the Investigation of Things.” In Wm. Theodore De Bary, ed., The Unfolding of Neo-Confucianism. New York: Columbia University Press. (A definitive study of one seventeenth-century Chinese Confucian who learned from Western natural philosophy but did not let it undermine his fundamental Confucian assumptions.) ———. 1973. “Western Natural Philosophy Published in late Ming China,” Proceedings of the American Philosophical Society 117: 295–322. (A comprehensive overview of the natural philosophy European missionaries introduced to China in the early seventeenth-century.) ———. 2010. “Learning from Heaven: The Introduction of Christianity and Other Western Ideas into Late Ming China.” In John E.  Wills, Jr, ed., China and Maritime Europe, 1500–1800: Trade, Settlement, Diplomacy, and Missions. New York: Cambridge University Press. (A comprehensive survey of the philosophy and theology Jesuits missionaries introduced to China in the early seventeenth century.) Ricci, Matteo. 2016. The True Meaning of the Lord of Heaven, edited by Thierry Meynard, translated by Douglas Lancashire, and Peter Hu Kuo-chen. Boston: Institute of Jesuit Sources,

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Boston College. (A pioneering attempt to convince Chinese Neo-Confucians that Christianity and Confucianism (though not Neo-Confucianism) were compatible.) Sambiasi, Francesco. 1976. Humble Attempt at Explaining Matters Pertaining to the Soul (Lingyan Lishao 靈言蠡勺). In Li Zhizao 李之藻, ed., An Introduction to Heavenly Learning (Ch’ŏnhak ch’oham 天學初函). Seoul: Asea munhwasa. (An explication of late medieval European theories of cognition provided by Francesco Sambiasi (1582–1649) in a Chinese-language rendering of the Aristotelian text De Anima.) Shen, Vincent. 2009. “Introduction and Re-writing of Aristotle’s De Anima by Early Jesuits in China.” Sogang Journal of Philosophy (Ch’ŏrhak nonjip) 17: 51–94. (A study of the attempts by Jesuit missionaries to make Aristotle’s De Anima understandable to Confucians.) Shin, Hudam 愼後聃. 1971. On Western Learning (Sŏhakpyŏn). In Yi Man-ch’ae 李晩采, ed., In defense of orthodoxy (Pyŏgwip’yŏn 闢衛編). Seoul: Yŏlhwadang, 1971. (An early eighteenth-­ century attack on Western philosophy by a Korean Neo-Confucian.) Slingerland, Edward. 2003. Confucius Analects: with Selections from Traditional Commentaries. Indianapolis: Hackett Pub. (An award-winning translation of the Analects.) Song, Gang. 2019. Giulio Aleni, Kouduo richao, and Christian-Confucian dialogism in late Ming Fujian. New York: Routledge. (An argument that the encounter between European missionaries and Chinese Confucians changed the way they both thought.) Wardy, Robert. 2000. Aristotle in China; Language, Categories, and Translation. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. (An argument that it was possible to translate even the most difficult concepts in Aristotelian logic into Chinese.) Witek, John W. 2016. “Catholic Missionaries, 1644–1800.” In Willard J. Peterson, ed., Cambridge History of China volume 9: The Ch’ing Dynasty to 1800, Part 2, 329–71. (A survey of the history of the Catholic community in China after the fall of the Ming.) Zhu, Xi 朱熹. 1714. The Complete Works of Zhu Xi 御纂朱子全書. In Qinding siku quanshu huiyao 欽定四庫全書薈要. ———. 1962. Thematic Discouses of Master Zhu 朱子語類. Taipei 臺北: Zheng zhong shu ju 正 中書局. Don Baker is a professor of Korean civilization at the Department of Asian Studies, University of British Columbia. His research focuses on the philosophical and religious history of Korea from 1700 to the present day. Among his publications are Korean Spirituality and Catholics and AntiCatholicism in Chosŏn Korea. He is currently completing an annotated translation of a nineteenth-­ century commentary on the Zhongyong by the Korean Confucian philosopher Chŏng Yag-yong.  

Part V

The Contemporary Significance

Chapter 34

Zhu Xi and the Fact/Value Debate: How to Derive Ought from Is Yong Huang

1 Introduction David Hume claims that there is a huge gap between is and ought in the following famous passage from his Treatises: In every system of morality, which I have hitherto met with, I have always remarked, that the author proceeds for some time in the ordinary way of reasoning, and establishes the being of a God, or makes observations concerning human affair when of a sudden I am surprised to find, that instead of the usual copulations of propositions is, and is not, I meet with no proposition that is not connected with an ought, or an ought not. This change is imperceptible; but is, however, of the last consequence. For as this ought, or ought not, expresses some new relation or affirmation, it is necessary that it should be observed and explained; and at the same time that a reason should be given, for what seems altogether inconceivable, how this new relation can be a deduction from others, which are entirely different from it. But as authors do not commonly use this precaution, I shall presume to recommend it to the readers; and am persuaded, that this small attention would subvert all the vulgar systems of morality, and let us see that the distinction of vice and virtue is not founded merely on the relations of objects, nor is perceived by reason. (Hume 1978: [III.i.1] 469)

The gap exists between is statement and ought statement, because for Hume, they are two entirely different types of statement, and one cannot derive an ought statement from an is statement. Later G. E. Moore, in his Principia Ethica, coined the equally if not more memorable term “naturalistic fallacy,” which is commonly understood to mean that it is a fallacy to derive an ought statement from an is statement.1 For

 I emphasize that this is how “naturalistic fallacy” has been commonly understood in contrast to what Moore actually means by it. Moore develops this term in his argument that “good” is the most 1

Y. Huang (*) Department of Philosophy, The Chinese University of Hong Kong, Hong Kong, People’s Republic of China e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2020 K.-c. Ng, Y. Huang (eds.), Dao Companion to ZHU Xi’s Philosophy, Dao Companions to Chinese Philosophy 13, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-29175-4_34

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example, Charles R. Pigden claims that one commits a fallacy to derive ought from is, not because of any special feature of morality but due to the conservative nature of logic, which means that “the conclusions of a valid inference are contained within the premises. You do not get out what you haven’t put in’” (Pigden 1991: 423). In this chapter, I shall frst examine two formalistic attempts to derive ought from is and show why they are not successful. Then I shall discuss the substantive attempt to derive ought from is made by contemporary Aristotelian virtue ethicists, particularly Rosalind Hursthouse. I argue that such an attempt proceeds in the right direction. Its problem largely lies more in the is part than the ought part: since the descriptive is statement is problematic, the normative ought statement derived from it becomes also problematic. So in the last section of this chapter, I examine Zhu Xi’s neo-Confucian attempt to derive ought from is, which in general structure is similar to the neo-Aristotelian one but starts with a different is statement. I argue that this neo-Confucian one is more promising.

2 Two Formalistic Attempts by Nelson and Searle As the issue raised by Hume and Moore seems to be intuitively clear, one may be skeptical about any attempts to derive an ought statement from an is statement. Nevertheless such attempts have often been made. In this section, I shall examine two such attempts to show why they are not successful.2 I shall start with the relatively more recent but less known attempt by Mark T.  Nelson, who provides the following counter-argument against the Humean thesis: N1. “Bertie (morally) ought to marry Madeline” is one of Aunt Dahlia’s beliefs.

basic intuitive moral idea, which can be used to defne other moral ideas (for example, “right”) but itself cannot be defned. Any attempt to defne “good,” whether in terms of pleasure or divine commandment, in Moore’s view, commits the naturalistic fallacy: “naturalistic fallacy always implies that when we think ‘this is good,’ what we are thinking is that the thing in question bears a defnite relation to some one other thing. But this one thing, by reference to which good is defned, may be either what I may call a natural object … or else it may be an object which is only inferred to exist in supersensible real world” (Moore 2005: 39–40). It has thus to be pointed out that Moore’s use of the term “naturalistic fallacy” is not very strict, since while pleasure is indeed something natural, divine commandment is certainly not. For this reason, W. K. Frankena correctly points out that what Moore really means is the “defnitional fallacy” instead of naturalistic fallacy (see Frankena 1939: 469). 2 Other signifcant attempts include those by Hilary Putnam and Michael Slote. In his The Collapse of the Fact/Value Dichotomy and Other Essays, however, the main point that Putnam tries to make is more to debunk the fact/value dichotomy (insisting that no statements are purely descriptive and no statements are purely normative, which still accept the difference between fact and value) than to derive value from fact (see Putnam 2002). More recently, Michael Slote uses a whole chapter in his newest book to develop a sentimentalist derivation of ought from is. In his view, “an ‘is’ statement or proposition about human disposition to approve … enables us to deduce a statement about what is morally right” (Slote 2010: 70–71).

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N2. All of Aunt Dahlia’s beliefs are true. N3. Therefore, Bertie (morally) ought to marry Madeline. (Nelson 1995: 555)

The argument is clearly a valid one, but does the argument derive an ought from the is? It is obvious that the conclusion is an ought statement and the first premise is an is statement. What about the second premise? In appearance it is also an is statement. However, if we say that “All of Aunt Dahlia’s beliefs are true,” Aunt Dahlia’s belief that “Bertie (morally) ought to marry Madeline” is also true; yet to say that Aunt Dahlia’s belief that “Bertie (morally) ought to marry Madeline” is true simply means that “Bertie (morally) ought to marry Madeline,” which is nevertheless an ought statement. So what Nelson achieves is not to derive an ought from is but derive an ought from an ought. To respond to our objection, Nelson makes a distinction between the specific and general interpretation of the second premise. According to the specific interpretation, the second premise does contain “an implicit list of all of Aunt Dahlia’s beliefs, and assert of each belief that it is true” (Nelson 1995: 559). Since this list also includes Aunt Dahlia’s belief that Bertie morally ought to marry Madeline and other ought beliefs, the second premise is not a purely descriptive statement. However, Nelson claims that the second premise may also be interpreted generally, “i.e., as the proposition that all of Aunt Dahlia’s beliefs—whatever they are—are true, or (perhaps better) that Aunt Dahlia is infallible, and this interpretation carries no moral commitment.… the specific interpretation of (N2) carries a moral commitment to Bertie’s obligation to marry Madeline, but the general interpretation of (N2) does not. Moreover, my argument remains valid on the general interpretation of (N2), and the general interpretation is what I intend” (Nelson 1995: 559). The problem with Nelson’s argument is twofold. On the one hand, he does not tell us why the second premise has to be interpreted generally, when a specific interpretation is equally natural. Second, if the general interpretation is accepted, the logical positivists and other moral emotivists who deny the existence of moral beliefs (as for them moral beliefs are nothing but emotions) may regard Nelson’s counter-argument as invalid, since for them this second premise does not include Aunt Dahlia’s emotion that “Bertie (morally) ought to marry Madeline,” and so we cannot conclude that Bertie (morally) ought to marry Madeline, even if all of Aunt Dahlia’s beliefs are true. In such a case, Nelson has to show to moral emotivists that there are moral beliefs and such beliefs are also included in the second premise. However, even if emotivists are persuaded, they will realize that Nelson does not derive an ought from is, since the second premise itself is an (at least partially) ought statement. Now I want to turn to an earlier but much more famous attempt to derive ought from is, the one made by John R.  Searle in his classical essay, “How to Derive ‘Ought’ from ‘Is’?” published in 1964. In this essay, he directly attacks the Humean thesis, which Searle understands to mean that “there is a class of statements of fact which is logically distinct from a class of statements of value. No set of statements of fact by themselves entails any statement of value. Put in a more contemporary terminology, no set of descriptive statements can entail an evaluative statement without the addition of at least one evaluative premise” (Searle 1964: 43). To argue against this thesis, Searle starts with the following counter-example:

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1 . Jones uttered the words “I hereby promise to pay you, Smith, five dollars.” 2. Jones promised to pay Smith five dollars. 3. Jones placed himself under (undertook) an obligation to pay Smith five dollars. 4. Jones is under an obligation to pay Smith five dollars. 5. Jones ought to pay Smith five dollars. (Searle 1964: 44) In this example, Searle claims that the first sentence, a premise, is clearly a descriptive statement, the second sentence is a simple restatement of the first premise, the third sentence is simply a dictionary explanation of what “promise” means, and the fourth sentence is a restatement of the third sentence. Now from the fourth sentence, the fifth sentence, the conclusion, which is an ought statement, seems to follow logically. As soon as Searle’s article was published, there was a heated debate regarding whether Searle’s counter-argument is valid. My problem with Searle’s argument is slightly different. Instead of questioning the validity of the counter-argument, I question whether an ought statement is indeed derived from the is statement. When explaining his counter-example, Searle claims that the Humean thesis is based on a narrow conception of descriptive statements, which is limited to such statements as “my car goes eighty miles an hour,” “Jones is six feet tall,” and “Smith has brown hair.” In Searle’s view, however, there is a very different type of descriptive statements, such as “Jones got married,” “Smith made a promise,” “Jackson has five dollars,” and “Brown hit a home run.” How are they different? According to Searle, Though both kinds of statements state matters of objective fact, the statements containing words such as “married,” “promise,” “home run,” and “five dollars” state facts whose existence presupposes certain institutions: a man has five dollars, given the institution of money. Take away the institution and all he has is a rectangular bit of paper with green ink on it. A man hits a home run only given the institution of baseball; without the institution he only hits a sphere with a stick. Similarly, a man gets married or makes a promise only within the institutions of marriage and promising. Without them, all he does is utter words or makes gestures. We might characterize such facts as institutional facts, and contrast them with non institutional, or brute, facts: that a man has a bit of paper with green ink on it is a brute fact, that he has five dollars is an institutional fact. (Searle 1964: 54–55)

What Searle means by institutional facts are behaviors that are created by certain rules (for example the behavior of chess playing is possible only after the relevant rules come into existence) and not merely behaviors regulated by rules (for example the behavior of eating exists way before table manners come into existence). Now in Searle’s view, “Once we recognize the existence of and begin to grasp the nature of such institutional facts, it is but a short step to see that many forms of obligations, commitments, rights, and responsibilities are similarly institutionalized. It is often a matter of fact that one has certain obligations, commitments, rights, and responsibilities, but it is a matter of institutional, not brute, fact. It is one such institutionalized form of obligation, promising, which I invoked above to derive an ‘ought’ from an ‘is’” (Searle 1964: 55). It is in this sense that I claim that Searle fails to derive an ought from is, since his very conclusion, despite the appearance of the word ought in it, is actually still an is or descriptive statement. The reason is that there are at least two uses of term

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“ought,” one is normative and one is descriptive. If I say “one ought not to harm another,” the use of ought is normative; however, if I say “murderers ought not be killed where capital punishment is not allowed,” the use of ought is descriptive. The difference between the two is that in the first use, I as the speaker of the sentence obviously agree that one ought not to harm another; in the second use, however, I think the murderer ought not to be killed only given the fact that no capital punishment is allowed, and it is entirely possible that I think the capital punishment is a good thing and the murderer ought to be killed.3 Here I argue that Searle’s use of ought in the conclusion of his counter-argument is also descriptive, which is made clear even in his own explanation of his argument: “I started with a brute fact, that a man uttered certain words, and then invoked the institution in such a way as to generate institutional facts by which we arrived at the institutional fact that the man ought to pay another man five dollars. The whole proof rests on an appeal to the constitutive rule that to make a promise is to undertake an obligation” (Searle 1964: 55). In other words, what Searle’s whole argument amounts to is merely this: someone who participates at the institution of promise ought to keep the promise; it says nothing whether the institution is good or not or whether one ought to be part of this institution. Since perhaps we all accept the conclusion of Searle’s argument, its descriptive nature is not clear. However, we can construct a similar example like this. 1 . Jones was a whole-hearted believer in Nazism; 2. And he found Smith hiding in a Polish family; 3. Smith was a Jew; 4. Jones ought to kill Smith. Here, the conclusion follows, not because we think Jones ought to kill the Jew, but given the fact Jones participates at the institutional activities of Nazism, he ought to kill Smith, even though we might want to abolish the institution as we think Jones ought not to kill Smith.4

 This distinction between the two senses of “ought” is made by Alison Jaggar: “a philosopher who was committed to the existence of a logical gap between statements of fact and statements of value … might argue that there are at least two distinct senses of ‘ought’: a descriptive sense, where the speaker is reporting an indisputable, objective matter of fact (though institutional, not brute fact); and an evaluative sense which also carries with it the connotation that the speaker would approve of Jones’s carrying out the payment. The objector might then claim that, so long as the premises were construed as containing only descriptive or analytic statements, the final statement of Searle’s example involved only the former, purely descriptive, sense of ‘ought’” (Jaggar 1974: 375). 4  Michael Martin makes a similar criticism of Searle’s argument: “(1′) Goebbels uttered the words ‘I hereby promise you, Hitler, I will kill five million Jews.’ By an argument similar to Searle’s one arrives at (4′) Goebbels is under an obligation to kill five million Jews. Yet this is absurd. Neither Goebbels nor anyone else could be under a moral obligation, that is have a prima facie moral obligation, to perform a morally outrageous act. This suggests that there is something wrong with Searle’s mode of reasoning up to (4) since the same mode of reasoning leads to (4)” (Martin 1974: 150). 3

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3 A Substantive Attempt by Hursthouse In this section, I shall examine a rather different attempt to derive ought from is made by the neo-Aristotelian virtue ethicist Rosalind Hursthouse, which it seems to me points in a right direction.5 In contemporary virtue ethics, particularly the neo-­ Aristotelian one, there is a new trend of ethical naturalism. In virtue ethics, the ought statement is often expressed by using the word “good,” and the ought not statement is often expressed by using the word “bad,” since statements containing “good” and “bad” are normative in the precisely same sense as statements containing “ought” and “ought not.” Thus the statement that “John is a good person” is equivalent to the statement that “John is a person one ought to be,” and the statement that “John is a bad person” is equivalent to the statement that “John is a person one ought not to be.” It is in this sense that Anscombe, in her classical essay, “Modern Moral Philosophy,” says that “the terms ‘should’ or ‘ought’ or ‘needs’ relate to good and bad” (Anscombe 1958: 5). Now can we derive normative statement from descriptive statements? The Aristotelian virtue ethicists claim that we can. Crucial in this approach is to consider such evaluative terms as “good” as attributive. In Hursthouse’s word, “what that entails is that, although you can evaluate and choose things according to almost any criteria you like, you must select the noun or noun phrase you use to describe the thing you are calling good advisedly, for it determines the criterion of goodness that are appropriate” (Hursthouse 1999: 195). For example, “small” is an attributive term, while “red” is not. The difference between the two is that we have a criterion of what red is independent of our knowledge of the thing that is red, as the redness of a red chair, a red flower, and a red shirt is all the same. However, we do not have a criterion of small independent of our knowledge of the thing that is small. “Good” is similar to “small” but different from “red,” and so it is also an attributive term. In other words, we do not have an independent and uniform criterion of goodness that can be applied to anything. Instead, our criterion of goodness must be specific to the thing that we describe as good. In other words, the normative conception of good must be derived from a descriptive conception of the thing regarded as good. It is in this sense that such terms as “good” and “bad,” while normative, are clearly objective when applied to plants and animals, as they are really synonymous to “healthy” and “defective”: “the truth of such evaluations of living things does not depend in any way on my wants, interests, or values, nor indeed on ‘ours.’ They are, in the most straightforward sense of the term, ‘objective’” (Hursthouse 1999: 202). Then how do we precisely derive normative statement from descriptive statement in  A similar attempt, with similar merit as well as deficiency, is made by Paul Bloomfield. Bloomfield directly appeals to Aristotle’s function argument: while a statement of the function of something is clearly a descriptive is statement, a normative ought statement can be derived from such an is statement. For example, if a heart’s function is to pump blood and it does not do its job, we can say that “this is a bad heart” or “this heart ought to pump blood.” By analogy, we can have a descriptive statement of the function of human being and then judge whether a particular human being is good or not (see Bloomfield 2001: 128–52). 5

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ethics? To make it clear, Hursthouse starts from our relatively uncontroversial descriptions and evaluations of plants and animals, since for her, “what goes for ‘good cactus’ and ‘good wolf’ also goes for ‘good human being’, and the adverb(s) ‘morally’ or ‘ethically’ [in contrast to physically, for example] added to ‘good human being’ can do no more than restrict the aspects of human beings to be considered; it cannot change the grammar” (Hursthouse 2002: 52).6 So first we examine our evaluation of plants. Here, “we evaluate two aspects—parts and operations—in relation to two ends” (Hursthouse 1999: 198). Parts are such things as leaves, roots, and petals, and operations are such activities as growing, taking in water, developing buds, dying back, and setting seeds. The two ends are “(1) individual survival through the characteristic life span of such a member of such a species and (2) continuance of the species” (Hursthouse 1999: 198). So a good plant is one that is well fitted with respect to its parts and operations in terms of both its individual survival and the continuance of its species. In other words, a good plant is one whose two aspects serve its two ends well. Hursthouse then moves to our evaluation of animals, where two additional aspects and two additional ends are introduced. The first new aspect (the third aspect) is acting or doing in contrast to merely reacting as is found in plants. The second new aspect (the fourth aspect) is a certain psychology of emotions and desires. With these two new aspects, there are not only more complex ways of realizing the two ends; but there are also two new ends to be served. The first new end (the third end) is the “characteristic freedom from pain and characteristic pleasure or enjoyment” (Hursthouse 1999: 199), as animals seek both freedom from pain and enjoyment of pleasure, while plants do not. The second new end (the fourth end), particular in social animals such as wolves and bees, is “the good functioning of the social group.” So now whether an animal, particularly a sophisticated one, is good or defective is to be evaluated with the above four aspects in light of their services to the four ends. This last end, “the good functioning of social group,” characteristic of social animals, is particularly important in view of its relevance to our evaluation of human beings, which are also social animals. This is a function “to enable its members to live well (in the way characteristic of their species); that is, to foster their characteristic individual survival, their characteristic contribution to the continuance of the species and their characteristic freedom from pain and enjoyment of such things as it is characteristic of their species to enjoy” (Hursthouse 1999: 201). In short, the good functioning of the social group, the fourth end, is to enable its members to better realize the other three ends. To illustrate this, Hursthouse uses a similar example used by Philippa Foot: “Wolves hunt in packs; a ‘free-rider’ wolf that doesn’t join in the hunt fails to act well and is thereby defective” (Hursthouse 1999: 201). With such a preparation, Hursthouse is now ready to describe our ethical evaluation of ourselves, human beings. In her view, “if there is any truth in ethical  This is also partly related to her understanding of ethical naturalism, which is “usually thought of as not only basing ethics in some way on considerations of human nature, but also taking human beings to be part of the natural, biological order of living things” (Hursthouse 1999: 206). 6

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n­ aturalism, our ethical evaluations of ourselves ought to exhibit at least recognizably similar structure to what we find in the botanists’ and ethologists’ evaluation of other living things. More particularly, we would expect the structure of our ethical evaluations of ourselves to resemble that of sophisticated social animals with some differences necessitated by our being not only social but also rational” (Hursthouse 1999: 206). What is unique is that, in our evaluation of ourselves, a significantly new aspect (the fifth) comes into scene: rationality. So now we have five aspects, although the first two aspects, parts and merely physical operations, which become the subject matter of human biology and/or medicine, are irrelevant to our ethical evaluations of ourselves (this is what she means, in an earlier quotation, when she says that the term “ethical” simply serves to restrict the aspects of human beings to be considered). In this ethical evaluation, the aspects to be evaluated include then those reactions that are not merely physical, actions, emotions and desires, and our rationality. It is here that Hursthouse brings the idea of virtue into her ethical naturalism. In her view, “it is primarily in virtue of our actions from reason that we are ethically good or bad human beings” (Hursthouse 1999: 217). However, she also claims that to possess virtue is. not only to be well disposed with respect to actions from reason, but also with respect to emotions and desires…. Virtuous action also involves ‘reactions which are not merely physical’ in the perceptions of what is relevant in a situation…. Hence the concept of virtue emerges as apparently tailor-made to encapsulate a favourable evaluation of just those aspects which, according to the naturalism here outlined, are the ethically relevant ones. (Hursthouse 1999: 208)

It is interesting to see that all aspects that Hursthouse thinks are ethically relevant, other than rationality, are also present in animals. However, why do we not make ethical evaluations of animals and regard them as either morally virtuous or vicious? The reason for Hursthouse is that rationality, the unique aspect in human beings, is important not only because it is a new aspect to be evaluated, but also because it affects all other aspects to be evaluated in a human being. For example, action in animals is action from inclination, but action in humans is action from reason. Although we human beings occasionally also act from inclination, it is the action from reason that “makes us good or bad human beings in the ethical sense” (Hursthouse 1999: 207). Similarly, emotions and desires in human beings, unlike those in animals, are also ethically relevant aspects and can be regarded as virtuous and vicious, because they are also affected by rationality: “in the person with the virtues, these emotions will be felt on the right occasions, towards the right people or objects, for the right reasons” (Hursthouse 1999: 109). As a matter of fact, Hursthouse claims that full virtue involving feeling emotions is generally impossible without the influence of reason (Hursthouse 1999: 109). It is important to note that, in animals, particularly social animals, new ends emerge with the appearance of new aspects or capacities. However, in human beings, the appearance of the new capacity of rationality is not accompanied by any additional end. Hursthouse particularly shrugs off Aristotle’s suggestion of

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c­ ontemplation as an additional end for human beings.7 Nevertheless, she still insists that the appearance of rationality is enough to register the huge gap between humans and animals. What is characteristic of other beings is largely determined by nature. So “it makes no sense to say that, for example, a male polar bear is a bad/defective polar bear because, far from defending its young, it has to be prevented by their mother from killing them” (Hursthouse 1999: 220), because what they do not do is what they cannot do, and what they ought to do must be what they can do. In contrast, what is characteristic of human being is to a great extent determined by “our rationality—our free will if you like…. Apart from obvious physical constraints and possible psychological constraints, there is no knowing what we can do from what we do do, because we can assess what we do do and at least try to change it” (Hursthouse 1999: 221). So what is the characteristic way of being human? Hursthouse claims that it is the rational way, which “is any way that we can rightly see as good, as something we have reason to do. Correspondingly, our characteristic enjoyments are any enjoyments we can rightly see as good, as something we in fact enjoy and that reason can rightly endorse” (Hursthouse 1999: 222). Despite no new ends emerging with rationality in human beings, Hursthouse claims that her notion of human nature, on the one hand, is still a normative one, as the characteristic way of being human in this sense is not necessarily (and in most cases is simply not) the way most humans are living their lives, and for that reason, most people are not living the way of life characteristic of being human (Hursthouse 1999: 224); and, on the other hand, it is nevertheless naturalist or objective, because “it is still the case that human beings are ethically good in so far as their ethically relevant aspects foster the four ends appropriate to a social animal, in the way characteristic of the species. And the structure—the appeal to just those four ends— really does constrain, substantially, what I can reasonably maintain is a virtue in human beings” (Hursthouse 1999: 224). So although rationality is unique to human beings, it is not an end in light of which we judge whether a good human being is good or not. In this sense, contrary to Christopher Toner’s complaint,8 Hursthouse can respond to McDowell’s question on behalf of the rational wolf about whether it is a good wolf, because Hursthouse, unlike Aristotle, does not regard rationality as the criterion to evaluate whether a human being is good or not, as if one is a more genuine human being simply because one is more rational. It is rather something we need to evaluate in light of the four ends: if it serves these ends well, then it is good, and therefore the person who has the rationality is a good person. So the crucial part

 Hursthouse thus states: “We might say that the fifth end was the preparation of our souls for the life hereafter, or that it was contemplation—the good functioning of the theoretical intellect. But to adopt the first is to go beyond naturalism towards supernaturalism, and even philosophers have baulked at following Aristotle and endorsing the second” (Hursthouse 1999: 218). 8  For Toner, “it is striking that although Foot and Hursthouse carry out their projects in continual dialogue with McDowell, to my knowledge neither they nor [Michael] Thompson take up the criticisms McDowell offers in this article [‘Two Sorts of Naturalism’]” (Toner 2007: 226). 7

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of Husthouse’s account is the four ends, on the basis of which her account of human nature is indeed both naturalistic and normative.9

4 Problem with Hursthouse’s Neo-Aristotelian Approach It is no wonder that many critics of Hursthouse target their criticisms at these four ends. David Copp and David Sobel, for example, claim that Hursthouse’s general point is that what counts as a virtue is still determined by what serves those four ends and this is a real constraint on the view and a real tie with Footian naturalism. But this is difficult to understand. The list of four ends that Hursthouse recommends we use to evaluate plants and animals was developed precisely by generalizing about how, according to Hursthouse, we evaluate the kind of creatures for whom it is the case that nature determines how they ought to be. How can Hursthouse reject the thought that nature determines how humans should be yet think that the same considerations that grounded the four ends in plants and animals also ground the normative status of the four ends for humans? (Copp and Sobel: 540)

So they argue that Hursthouse faces a dilemma: she must either reject the Footian naturalism about the four ends or accept that nature can be normative for us: “if she rejects the idea that nature can be normative with respect to us, as she does, and if she concedes that, for humans, the normatively appropriate way of going on is to act in ways that we can rightly see ourselves as having reason to act, as she does, she must give up the Footian naturalism” (Copp and Sobel 2004: 541).10 A more careful reading of Hursthouse, however, can show that there is no such inconsistency. What Hursthouse maintains is that all social animals are good in so far as the relevant aspects foster the four ends in a way characteristic of a species. The difference between non-rational social animals and rational social animals (human beings) is that, in the former, the characteristic way to foster the four ends are given by nature, while in the latter, it is any way that these rational animals see as right or have reason for. However, whatever ways they have for whatever reasons must be ways to foster the four ends. In short, rationality for Hursthouse does not determine what ends rational animals should serve but only what ways they can find to serve the four ends.

 For this reason, it is indeed superfluous to add a fifth end as amended by Allen Thompson, according to whom, “just as good lions should develop their capacity for hunt, good human beings should develop their capacity for reason”; and so the development of a normatively autonomous capacity for practical reason is “a natural end of our natural kind … a fifth end for Hursthouse’s botanical and ethological model” (A. Thompson 2007: 260). 10  Frans Svensson makes a similar objection: “She may choose to give up on the idea that nature cannot be normative with respect to human beings [in which case it is no longer an ethical naturalism]. … Or Hursthouse could give up on the idea that four ends of social animals substantially constrain what we can reasonably hold to be a virtue in human beings. But in that case the supposed analogy between evaluation of plants and animals and moral judgments breaks down” (Svensson 2007: 199–201). 9

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With this defense of Hursthouse, however, we start to doubt whether rationality, as the only thing uniquely human, does register the “huge gap” between human beings and other social animals as Hursthouse claims. Her project of ethical naturalism attempts to show that an objective conception of human nature is normative. Now, if we ask what human nature is, it seems that we first need to know whether human nature is to be determined by the aspects or the ends. It seems that it cannot be the ends, since in terms of ends there is no difference between humans and other social animals, and human nature presumably is the uniquely human nature. We must look for it in the aspects, where only rationality separates humans from other social animals. Rationality must be the uniquely human nature, but rationality in her naturalism is merely a human capacity to foster the four ends that humans share with other social animals. If so, however, the gap, if it can still be called a gap, between human beings and animals is certainly not huge, as the only thing uniquely human, rationality, has to be constrained by the four ends, which humans and animals share. It is in this sense that we may also start to doubt, while Hursthouse’s ethical naturalism can indeed respond to McDowell’s objection on behalf of a rational wolf, whether it can respond to Watson’s objection on behalf of a social gangster, which Hursthouse has in mind: “can an objective theory really establish that being a gangster is incompatible with being a good human being?” (Watson 1997: 67; see Hursthouse 1999: 192–93). Hursthouse claims that it can, and the way she does it is first to validate charity, justice, etc. as virtues and then to establish that gangsters are callous, unjust, etc., in short, not virtuous. For Hursthouse, “these moves together would establish that a gangster was bad qua human being, and thereby unable to live a good human life” (Hursthouse 1999: 228). However, as we have seen, virtue for Hursthouse is the character trait that helps one foster the four ends. The reason Hursthouse can claim that gangsters lack virtue is apparently that their character traits do not foster the fourth end, the smooth functioning of the social group. Since this end is carried over from her discussion of social animal, presumably there is no difference between human beings and other social animals in terms of this end. Now if we look at a good social animal, for example, a wolf that helps in hunting, this animal serves the end of smooth functioning of its social group. However, the social group that the wolf serves is apparently the particular pack of which it is a member and not the species of wolf. The wolf may well fight wolves from other packs. If this wolf can be regarded as a good wolf simply because it contributes to the smooth functioning of its own group instead of its species, then a gangster may also be regarded as good human being, as this gangster may very well also serve the smooth functioning of his group, the gang of which he is a member. Hursthouse may say that this gangster is perhaps indeed good, but qua gangster, not qua human being. If this is the case, then we cannot say a wolf that helps its pack hunting is a good wolf: it is good only qua a member of its pack and not qua wolf. If a wolf can be regarded as a good wolf simply by helping its pack to function smoothly, while a human being cannot be regarded as a good human being unless he or she helps the human species function smoothly, then the relevant end that humans serve respectively

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must be different from the  one served by non-rational social animals, yet whose possibility Hursthouse explicitly excludes. To help Hursthouse fix this problem, several commentators propose that the ends in terms of which we make ethical evaluations of humans cannot be the same as those in terms of which we make evaluations of social animals.11 For them, to add an additional end to human beings corresponding to their acquisition of a new aspect in comparison to animals is just as natural as to add additional ends to animals with their acquisition of new aspects in comparison to plants.12 Christopher W. Gowans, for example, notes the difference between human beings and other social animals we mentioned above. For him, while it is implausible to think that a good human being should only be concerned about members of his or her particular group and not all human beings, “it is implausible to suppose that social animals in general are concerned about all members of their own respective species” (Gowans 2008: 46). Thus in his view, to account for this difference, it is important to show “that human beings, as rational, have as an end (among others) the well-being of all other members of their species” (Gowans 2008: 47). Brad Hooker goes a step further, as he thinks that human species is still not broad enough, and the end should be further expanded to include all rational beings. Thus he imagines a science-fictional scenario, in which “human beings all have an incurable virus that they foresee will make them all utterly vicious and miserable,” with the result that they entertain themselves by killing off any other intelligent species, one of which is just as smart as but kinder and happier than human beings. In this case, he argues that the survival of human beings should not be considered as one of the ends in light of which we make ethical evaluations of human beings, as “all the positive value seems to be on the side of having humans become extinct and the other intelligent species flourish” (Hooker 2002: 35). What he tries to show by using this science fictional scenario is that “what is truly valuable has no necessary connection to the human species” (Hooker 2002: 35). Christine Swanton goes a step still further. In addition to doubting whether all anthropocentric virtues should be understood solely in terms of the four ends, she also challenges whether the ground of all virtues is anthropocentric. What she has in mind is environmental virtues: “on the classic view of deep environmental ethics, the respect we should accord natural objects by virtue of their  David Copp and David Sobel even challenge whether Hursthouse’s list of four ends is necessarily superior to competing lists that can be equally scientific, as “there are different ways of approaching scientific study of animal kinds. … and we think there can be correspondingly different conceptions of what makes an animal a good instance of its kind” (Copp and Sobel 2004: 535). For example, they argue that evolutionary biologists, descriptive biologists working on the natural history of a species, and veterinarians concerned for animals in the way doctors are supposed to be concerned with humans may very well each provide a very different list of the ends and aspects of animal from the one Hursthouse provide. However, I think we can at least accept that Hursthouse’s list is one of these objective ones. 12  However, as Gowans points out, if other ends of human beings have analogues in non-human social animals and so can be regarded as natural, “it is hard to see what fact about human nature could play an analogous role in an argument for the claim that our ends should include the wellbeing of human beings generally” (Gowans 2008: 47). 11

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status as natural is not based on their serving the enjoyment or smooth social functioning of the human species” (Swanton 2003: 92). It seems that, in order to fix the problem mentioned above and make an appropriate response to Watson’s objection on behalf of a gangster, Hursthouse has to adopt something like those suggested by Gowans, Hooker, and Swanton, so that the fourth end in human beings, instead of the smooth functioning of the social group as in other animals, or a new fifth end, will be the smooth functioning of human species, or all rational beings, or the whole environment. A potential problem with such revisions of the ends, in light of which we make ethical evaluations of human beings as virtuous or not, is that it is not clear whether the resulting conception of human nature, while certainly normative, is still objective. The virtue of simply carrying the four ends from other social animals over to human beings, as Hursthouse does, is that their objectivity in other social animals is also carried over to human beings. However, when the fourth end is revised or a fifth end is added so that the smooth functioning of the human species, or rational beings, or environment becomes one of the ends of human beings, its objectivity becomes ambiguous, at least from the Aristotelian perspective, as the truth of ethical evaluation in light of such an end perhaps indeed depends on “my wants, interests, or values” and is not “in the most straightforward sense of the term, ‘objective’” (Hursthouse 1999: 202).

5 The Substantive Approach by Zhu Xi As we have seen, Hursthouse’s attempt to derive ought from is is in the right direction. Its problem largely lies in the is part: its does not provide an adequate description of what human nature is. In this section, I shall argue that Zhu Xi’s neo-Confucian attempt to derive ought from is is largely consistent with Hursthouse’s neo-­ Aristotelian one. The difference is that he provides a different is statement, i.e., a different description of what human nature is. Following the Mencian line of Confucianism, Zhu Xi regards human nature not merely as something that human beings are born with but as something characteristic of human beings, something that distinguishes human beings from other beings. In this sense, he still agrees with Aristotle. The question is what distinguishes human beings from other beings. Philosophers in the Western tradition have almost unanimously accepted the view that it is rationality, although they may disagree on precisely what rationality is. Given this, it may seem surprising that this idea has hardly occurred to Confucian philosophers, including Zhu Xi. For them, it is just a simple truth that what is characteristic of human beings must be their humanness, humaneness, or humanity, which is also the common translation of the Chinese character ren 仁, the most important Confucian virtue. So for Zhu Xi what distinguishes human beings from beasts is not rationality but virtues, particularly the virtue of humanity. Although ren is only one of the four cardinal Confucian virtues, along with yi 義 (rightness), li 禮 (propriety), and zhi 智 (moral wisdom) (and sometimes a fifth one, xin 信

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[­ trustworthiness] is added), Zhu Xi argues that ren is inclusive.13 This is indeed a unique aspect of the Confucian account of virtue. Aristotle talks about the unity of the individual virtues, none of which is dominating in the whole system of virtues. In Confucianism in general and in Zhu Xi’s neo-Confucianism in particular, however, other individual virtues are all led by, included in, and reflect some aspects of the dominant virtue, humanity. Arguing against the Buddhist conception of human nature as empty, Zhu Xi claims that human nature is substantive (shi 實), as its content is nothing but these four cardinal Confucian virtues. Thus, Zhu Xi claims: human nature is the undistinguished whole of the substance of the ultimate. Originally we cannot say anything about it. However, it entails ten thousand principles, of which the most fundamental are the following four: humanity, rightness, propriety, and wisdom. Confucius did not talk about human nature as much as Mencius did. This is because everyone understood that human nature is good in Confucius’ time. So even though Confucius did not explain it in detail, the idea of the goodness of human nature is there. However, heresies arose everywhere in Mencius’ time, which regarded human nature as not good. Mencius was concerned that the truth was obscured and so he tried to make it clear. (Zhu 1996: 2977, under Wenji 58, “Reply 2 to Chen Qizhi”)

Here Zhu Xi makes it clear that “human nature entails … humanity, rightness, propriety, wisdom,” the four Confucian cardinal virtues. In another place, he makes an analogy: “human nature is general. It is like a human body, where humanity is the left hand, propriety is the right hand, rightness is the left foot, and wisdom is the right foot” (Zhu 1986: [6] 110).14 Thus, for Zhu Xi, human nature and virtues are identical in the sense that they are constituted by the same things: humanity, rightness, propriety, and wisdom. In this sense, he often talks about virtuous human nature (dexing 德性) and virtues of human nature (xing zhi de 性之德).15 In other words, human nature is virtuous, and virtues belong to human nature. In his view, it  In his essay “On Ren,” Zhu Xi states that “although virtues of the heart/mind are comprehensive and thorough, with nothing lacking, to summarize it in one word, it is ren. Let me try to explain it. The heart/mind of heaven and earth has four virtues: originating, penetrating, harvesting, and correcting, and the virtue of originating is all inclusive; the movement of the heaven and earth is spring, summer, autumn, and winter, and the life-giving force of the spring is all inclusive. Thus human heart/mind also has four virtues: humanity, rightness, propriety, and wisdom, and humanity is all inclusive” (Zhu 1996: 3545). But precisely in what sense does the virtue of humanity lead and include the other virtues? For Zhu Xi, since humanity is what makes a human being a human being, it “itself is the substance, while propriety is rules according to humanity, rightness is judgment [regarding concrete situations] according to humanity, and wisdom is the distinction [between right and wrong] according to humanity” (Zhu 1986: [6] 99). 14  Puzzled by this, a student asks how to explain the primacy of the virtue of humanity. Zhu Xi replies: “This is merely an analogy. But even though one hand does not include the four limbs, still when we talk about hand and foot, hand is before foot, and when we talk about left and right, left is before right” (Zhu 1986: [6] 110). So the left hand, which represents the virtue of humanity, is still primary. (Note: in Chinese, we always say “hand and foot,” never “foot and hand,” and always “left and right” and never “right and left.”) 15  About the virtuous human nature, Zhu Xi says that “generally speaking, humans’ virtuous nature (dexing) naturally has these four: humanity … rightness … propriety … and wisdom” (Zhu 1986: [6] 110); and about virtues of human nature, he states that “humanities, rightness, propriety, and wisdom are all virtues of human nature (xing zhi de)” (Zhu 1986: [101] 2583). 13

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is precisely here that human beings are distinguished from animals. Commenting on Mencius 6A.3, Zhu Xi claims, Human nature is metaphysical (above the form), while the vital force is empirical (below the form). When born, human beings and non-human beings all have this principle as well as the vital force. In terms of vital force, there is no distinction between human beings and non-human beings in their having perceptions and ability to move. In terms of principle, however, how can non-human beings be fully endowed with humanity, rightness, propriety, and wisdom? So no human’s nature is not good. Humans are thus the most spirited among ten thousand things. (Zhu 1994: 457, under Mengzi Jizhu 6A.3)

Mencius claims that “the difference between humans and animals is very slight. Superior persons preserve it, while inferior people abandon it” (Mencius 4B.19). When a student asks what the “little” thing that superior persons preserve and inferior people abandon is, Zhu Xi replies that it is what makes humans different from animals, not what humans and animals share. While to hear with ears, see with eyes, smell with nose, make noise with mouth, walk with feet, and carry things with hands are what humans and animals share, “what makes humans different from animals is that humans have humanity, rightness, propriety, and wisdom, so that as a son one can have filial love for parents, as a younger brother one can have respect for one’s older brother, and etc. How can animals have them?” (Zhu 1986: [57] 1347). Precisely because this is the only distinction between humans and animals, on the one hand, “only when one can preserve this slight difference can one be distinguished from animals” (Zhu 1986: [59] 1389); and, on the other hand, “if one’s heart/mind [whose substance is human nature] is obscured by selfish desires, one has become an animal” (Zhu 1986: [57] 1347). However, one may object that this conception of human nature may look more like a normative claim than a descriptive statement. To respond to such an objection, Zhu Xi distinguishes between human nature and human emotions. Humanity, rightness, propriety, and wisdom belong to human nature, while feelings of commiseration, shame and dislike, deference and compliance, and sense of right and wrong are their corresponding emotions. Cheng Yi 程頤, from whom Zhu Xi learns a great deal, once said that “from the feeling of commiseration we can know [the nature of] humanity” (Cheng and Cheng 2002: 168, under Yishu 15). Zhu Xi regards what Cheng Yi says here as most insightful, as it “does not say that the feeling of commiseration is humanity, nor does it say that we can talk about humanity independently of commiseration” (Zhu 1986: [53] 1288). In Zhu Xi’s view, while we cannot confuse human nature with human emotions, we cannot separate them from each other either: “when there is a particular kind of human nature, there will be a particular kind of human feeling; because there is a particular kind of human feeling, we know that there is a particular kind of human nature. Because today we see that there is such kind of human emotion, we know that originally there is such kind of human nature” (Zhu 1986: [5] 89). He generalizes what Cheng Yi says about humanity and commiseration and applies it to other aspects of human nature and their corresponding emotions: The reason we can examine principle is that we can examine it when it is aroused. Everything must have its origin and root. Although the principle of human nature is without

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shape, its aroused sprouts can be clearly examined. Thus, from the emotion of commiseration, we know that there must be humanity; from the feeling of shame and dislike, we know that there must be rightness, from the feeling of reverence, we know that there must be propriety, and from the feeling of right and wrong, we know that there must be wisdom. If there is no principle within, how can there be sprouts without? Because there are sprouts without, we can tell that there must be principle within. (Zhu 1996: 2977, under Wenji 58, “Reply 2 to Chen Qizhi”)

So although we do not have direct perception of human nature, we can still be sure that human nature is virtuous, because there are good human emotions that we can perceive. In Zhu Xi’s view, human nature is the unaroused state of human emotions, while human emotions are the aroused state of human nature. Human nature is aroused by the things we perceive. For example, “seeing an infant about to fall into a well, one is aroused to have the feeling of alarm and commiseration, which mirrors humanity. Seeing someone stealing, one is aroused to have the feeling of shame and dislike, which mirrors rightness” (Zhu 1986: [53] 1288–89); similarly, passing by a temple or pilgrimage, one is aroused to have the feeling of reverence, which mirrors the human nature of propriety. In short, when things outside excite our sense organs, what is inside, the human nature, will be aroused, and the result is human emotions (see Zhu 1996: 2977, under Wenji 58, “Reply 2 to Chen Qizhi”). Zhu Xi thus uses several analogies to explain our knowledge of the goodness of human nature, which we cannot perceive directly, from the goodness of human emotions, which we can and do perceive directly. In one place, he says that it “is just as we can tell that the origin of the water must be clear when we see that the water flowing from it is clear. The four sprouts are feelings, while human nature is principle. What arises is the emotion, while its root is human nature. [To know human nature from human emotions] is like knowing the shape [of a thing] from its shadows” (Zhu 1986: [5] 89). In another place, he says that to see human nature from human emotions “is like knowing how a mother must be from our knowledge of how her son is…. It is also like the bud of grasses and trees: from the buds above the ground we can tell that there must be roots underground. We do not say that the bud is already the root, nor can we know anything about the root independently from the bud” (Zhu 1986: [53] 1288). In short, we can have indirect knowledge of the goodness of human nature from our direct knowledge of the goodness of human emotions, just as we can have indirect knowledge of the origin of the water from our direct knowledge of the water flowing from it, have indirect knowledge of a thing from our direct knowledge of its shadow, have indirect knowledge of the mother from our direct knowledge of her son, and have indirect knowledge of the root from our direct knowledge of its sprouts. Thus, it is clear that Zhu Xi’s conception of human nature is neither morally indeterminate, as it clearly claims that human nature is virtuous, nor is it non-­ explanatory or merely subjective, as it is based on objective and empirical grounds. Here we may wonder how an objective conception of human nature, a description of what a human is, can be normative, telling us what we should be, since what we should be is based on what we actually are: we must have already been what we ought to be. While Zhu Xi thinks that human nature is virtuous, he does a­ cknowledge

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that human emotions can be either good or bad. Thus he claims that “when aroused, human nature is human emotions. There are good emotions as well as bad emotions, although human nature is completely good” (Zhu 1986: [5] 90). Thus when Zhu Xi claims that human nature is originally virtuous, he does not mean that all humans are actually already virtuous but that all humans can and ought to be virtuous. However, this leads to a new question. If from good human emotions we can infer that the human nature from which those emotions arise must be good, can we not equally infer that human nature must be bad from those bad human emotions? The answer is negative. To use Zhu Xi’s analogy again, from the bud sprouting above the ground we can infer that there must be a root underground. However, simply because there is no bud sprouting above ground we cannot say that there must be no root underground; similarly, simply because the bud sprouting above ground is not good we cannot infer that its root underground must be bad. While a bad root, as bad, cannot have a good sprout if at all, a good root does not always have a good sprout: there may be other reasons for there being no bud or for the bud to become bad (the soil in which it grows is not good or it is not properly fertilized, watered, or cultivated for example). Of course, we cannot push this analogy too far, as it at least does not exclude the possibility that there is no root when there is no bud or the root is bad when the bud is bad. Yet, Zhu Xi categorically excludes the possibility that human nature can be bad. Does this mean that, given the fact that some human emotions are actually bad, and there are actually bad people, Zhu Xi’s claim that human nature is virtuous is after all a metaphysical and purely normative claim lacking any objective ground? The answer is again negative. This can be seen from the distinction Zhu Xi makes between bad human beings and animals. Although, as we have seen, he does claim that bad human beings as they are indeed are no different from beasts, Zhu Xi also claims that bad human beings as they ought to be are different from animals. We normally say that bad human beings ought to be virtuous, but we do not say that animals ought to be virtuous, since “ought” implies “can”: bad human beings as a matter of fact can be made virtuous, while animals as a matter of fact cannot. When a student asks why there is difference when everything has the same nature, Zhu Xi responds: “human nature can be either bright or obscured, the nature of non-human beings are all out of balance and blocked. The obscured human nature can be brightened, while the nature that is out of balance and blocked cannot be made clear” (Zhu 1986: [4] 57). In this passage, Zhu Xi not only makes distinctions between human beings and non-human beings but also between virtuous and therefore genuine human beings and evil and therefore nominal human beings. The difference between human beings and non-human beings is whether their nature is open or blocked. When it is blocked by unbalanced qi, it cannot be made open. That is why social animals cannot extend the four natural qualities, the same natural qualities that become human virtues when fully extended in human beings. The difference between good human beings and bad human beings is whether their nature is bright or dark. It is bright when it is not clouded by one’s selfish desires; it is dark when it is clouded by one’s selfish desires. In the latter case, the “human” being acts no differently from animals, as they have left unused the only unique human capacity, the

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ability to extend or expand (tui 推) the four natural qualities to their full scope. However, the identity between non-virtuous people and animals is only in terms of what they actually do and not in terms of what they can do. As Zhu Xi states in this passage, while blocked nature (in animals) cannot be opened, the nature darkened by selfish desires (in non-virtuous persons) can always be brightened. Thus immediately following the passage above, when a student says that “when deeply sinking into the habit of doing immoral things, a person can never return to the right road,” Zhu Xi disagrees, claiming that “everything depends upon the depth of knowledge and the amount of effort” (Zhu 1986: [4] 57). In other words, those who sink deep in immoral habits can still return to the right track, although they must make more effort than others. As long as they do as stated in one of the greatest Four Confucian Books Zhongyong 中庸 (Centrality and Commonality): “while other people only need make one effort, they need to make one hundred; while other people only need make ten, they need make one thousand,” then “however benighted they are, people can still be enlightened” (Zhu 1986: [4] 65). That is the reason why Zhu Xi repeatedly comments on the following passage from the Great Learning (Daxue 大學), another of the Four Confucian Books: “inferior persons, when not noticed by others, do all immoral things possible. However, when they see superior persons, they will immediately hide their immoral side and pretend to be moral”; in Zhu Xi’s view, their covering up their immoral behavior indeed shows that they are dishonest (see Zhu 1986: [15] 304); that their knowledge is not genuine (Zhu 1986: [16] 327); that they are self-­deceptive (Zhu 1986: [16] 333); and that they are doubly wrong (to do immoral things is wrong and to cover them up is wrong again) (Zhu 1986: [16] 334). However, for Zhu Xi, this very fact also shows that even a vicious person also knows what the characteristic way of being human is: the virtuous way (Zhu 1996: 1384). It is in this sense that they are different from beasts. So when Zhu Xi claims that human nature is virtuous, he does not mean that every individual human being is actually already virtuous. There are people, actually many people, who are not virtuous, and in this sense many people are not characteristically human beings. They are defective human beings. In this sense, while Zhu Xi disagrees with Hursthouse on what is characteristic of human beings, he would certainly agree with her when she says that “characteristic” is not a statistical notion. In other words, while it certainly does not mean that all humans are going on in the characteristically human way, it also does not necessarily mean that most human beings are going on in the characteristically human way. To determine whether a way is characteristic of the human species is to see what all humans can do (not actually do) that makes the human species different from other species. So, as Hursthouse states, the notion of “characteristic” is “avowedly normative and is clearly going to yield judgments to the effect that many human beings are not going on ‘in the way characteristic of the species’ and are thereby defective human beings” (Hursthouse 1999: 223).16 It is in this sense that there is no contradiction at all

 This non-statistical notion of “characteristic” as both objective and normative is consistent with Michael Thompson’s conception of form of life. In Thompson’s view, the form of life of a given 16

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between Zhu Xi’s claim that human nature is virtuous and the acknowledgement that some (and actually many) human beings are not virtuous. Zhu Xi only disagrees with Hursthouse on what is characteristic of the human species. While for Hursthouse the way characteristic of human beings is rationality, for Zhu Xi it is tui, the ability to extend the four natural qualities, the very ability that makes these four natural qualities virtues in human beings.17 Thus, as far as the four natural qualities are not fully extended in a human being, this human being is more or less ethically defective, just as a person who does not have the vision characteristic of the human species is more or less physically defective. More importantly, for Zhu Xi, while a person who is physically defective to a certain degree may never be able to gain the physical ability characteristic of human beings, a person who is ethically defective, however serious it is, can always regain the ethical way characteristic of being human, as long as the person is willing to make a strong enough effort of tui,18 since the ethical way characteristic of human beings, while not a way lived by all or even most human beings, is a way that all human beings can have and ought to have in order to become characteristically human beings. This can also explain why we do not condemn a person for his/her physical defects as we do for his/her ethical defects.

6 Conclusion In this chapter, I discussed the issue of fact and value that has long troubled Western philosophers. Fact statement and value statement are very different types of statement. While the former is descriptive, the latter is normative. Thus, it is often claimed that the normative statement cannot be derived from the descriptive statespecies is not falsified by some (even a significant number of counter examples of members in the species). Those members of the species that do not have the form of life ought to have it. Here, “what merely ‘ought to be’ in the individual we may say really ‘is’ in its form” (M. Thompson 1995: 295). This view is also consistent with the position David Wong develops on the issue of whether moral reason is internal or external. In contrast to both straightforward internalism and straightforward externalism, Wong adopts a mixed position, which affirms that “while reasons are external with respect to the motivations of the individual agent, they are internal with respect to human nature” (Wong 2006: 188). More precisely, moral reasons, especially in light of Zhu Xi’s view discussed here, are always internal to human nature, but not always internal to individual human beings: they are internal to virtuous agents, although not to agents who are not yet virtuous. 17  To say that tui is the distinguishing mark of being human for Zhu Xi is not contradictory with his characterization of the uniqueness of human beings in terms of principle and vital force: the former is an empirical fact, while the latter is a metaphysical explanation of the fact. 18  For Zhu Xi, only sages do not need to make the effort of tui, but this is only because the four natural qualities in sages are naturally extended: “[the four natural qualities] naturally flow out of sages, nurturing all ten thousand things. But all other people need to make effort to extend [these four qualities] to benefit others” (Zhu 1986: [27] 693; see also his letter to Zhang Jingfu in Zhu 1996: 1316).

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ment. However, if a normative statement cannot be derived from a descriptive ­statement, the normative statement lacks objectivity, and morality becomes purely subjective. For this reason, many philosophical attempts have been made to do what seems to be impossible: to derive the normative statement from the descriptive statements. Having examined several representatives of such attempts in contemporary Western philosophy, I concluded that, while none of such attempts are successful, the Aristotelian attempt by Hursthouse is most promising. What is unique of such an attempt is that it starts with an objective, if not scientific, account of human nature, which results in an is statement, and then from this is statement derives an ought statement: what an ethically healthy and non-defective human being ought to be. The problem with such an attempt lies precisely in its supposedly objective account of human nature, which claims that human beings share the four ends with social animals such as wolves, with one additional aspect, rationality, added to the four other aspects that humans share with animals. The result is that it is ill-equipped to morally assess the social gangsters as ethically defective and unhealthy. It is in this context that I brought Zhu Xi’s moral discourse of human nature into our discussion. While also starting from an objective account of human nature, the account of human nature that Zhu Xi provides differs from Hursthouse’s: humans are different from animals in their unique ability to fully develop the natural qualities, which they share with animals, into things uniquely constitutive of human beings: humanity, rightness, propriety, and wisdom. Thus, any human being who lacks one or more of them is an ethically defective and unhealthy, i.e., unethical, human being. Since Zhu Xi’s account of human nature is expressed in an objective descriptive statement, which I have tried to vindicate, and his normative statement regarding what human beings ought to be is based on that, we can reasonably claim that Zhu Xi succeeds in his attempt to derive ought from is.

References Anscombe, Elizabeth. 1958. “Modern Moral Philosophy.” Philosophy 33: 1–19. (An important essay often regarded as the manifesto of the contemporary revival of virtue ethics.) Bloomfield, Paul. 2001. Moral Reality. Oxford: Oxford University Press. (Bloomfield argues that moral relativism and moral realism can be consistent with each other.) Cheng, Hao 程顥, and Cheng Yi 程頤. 2002. Complete Works of the Two Chengs 二程集. Beijing 北京: Zhonghua Shuju 中華書局. Copp, David, and David Sobel. 2004. “Morality and Virtue: An Assessment of Some Recent Work in Virtue Ethics.” Ethics 114: 514–554. Frankena, W. K. 1939. “The Naturalistic Fallacy.” Mind (New Series) 48: 464–477. Gowans, Christopher W. 2008. “Virtue and Nature.” Social Philosophy and Policy 25: 28–55. Hooker, Brad. 2002. “The Collapse of Virtue Ethics.” Utilitas 14.1: 22–40. (Hooker argues that virtue ethics is merely a form of conseqentialism.) Hume, David. 1978. A Treatise of Human Nature. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Hursthouse, Rosalind. 1999. On Virtue Ethics. Oxford: Oxford University Press. (The best exposition of neo-Aristotelian virtue ethics.)

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———. 2002. “Virtue Ethics vs. Rule-Consequentialism: A Reply to Brad Hooker.” Utilitas 14.1: 41–53. Jaggar, Alison. 1974. “It Does Not Matter Whether We Can Derive ‘Ought’ from ‘Is’.” Canadian Journal of Philosophy 3.3: 373–79. Martin, Michael. 1974. “The Deduction of Statements of Prima Facie Obligations from Descriptive Statements.” Philosophical Studies: An International Journal for Philosophy in the Analytic Tradition 25.2: 149–152. Moore, G. E. 2005. Principia Ethica. New York: Barnes and Noble Publishing. (Moore develops his famous and influential idea of the naturalist fallacy in this book.) Nelson, Mark T. 1995. “Is it Always Fallacious to Derive Values from Facts?” Argumentation 9: 553–562. (An interesting attempt to derive ought from is.) Pigden, Charles R. 1991. “Naturalism.” In A Companion to Ethics, edited by Peter Singer. Oxford: Blackwell Reference. Putnam, Hilary. 2002. The Collapse of the Fact/Value Dichotomy and Other Essays. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. (A strong argument against the dichotomy between objective facts and subjective value.) Searle, John R. 1964. “How to Derive ‘Ought’ From ‘Is’?” The Philosophical Review 73.1: 43–58. (Perhaps the most influential contemporary attempt to derive “ought” from “is.”) Slote, Michael. 2010. Moral Sentimentalism. Oxford: Oxford University Press. (The most systematic and radical account of ethical and metaethical issues purely based on sentiments.) Svensson, Frans. 2007. “Does Non-Cognitivism Rest on a Mistake?” Utilitas 19.2: 184–200. (An argument against Philippa Foot’s thesis that non-cognitivism rests on a mistake.) Swanton, Christine. 2003. Virtue Ethics: A Pluralist View. Oxford/New York: Oxford University Press. (A contemporary version of virtue ethics by appealing to Nietzche.) Thompson, Michael. 1995. “The Representation of Life.” In Virtues and Reasons, edited by Rosalind Hursthouse, Gavin Lawrence, and Warren Quinn. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Thompson, Allen. 2007. “Reconciling Themes in Neo-Aristotelian Meta-ethics.” The Journal of Value Inquiry 41: 245–63. Toner, Christopher 2007. “Sorts of Naturalism: Requirements for a Successful Theory.” Metaphilosophy 39.2: 220–250. Watson, Gary. 1997. “On the Primacy of Character.” In Virtue Ethics: A Critical Reader, edited by Daniel Statman. Washington, DC: Georgetown University Press. (A classical essay on what makes an ethics virtue ethics and dilemmas inherent it it.) Wong, David B. 2006. Natural Moralities: A Defense of Pluralistic Relativism. Oxford/New York: Oxford University Press. (A most powerful contemporary defense of moral relativism by drawing on resources from Confucianism and Daoism.) Zhu, Xi 朱熹. 1986. Classified Sayings of Master Zhu 朱子語類. Shanghai 上海: Shanghai Guji Chubanshe 上海古籍出版社. ———. 1994. Collected Annotations of the Four Books 四書章句集注. Taipei 臺北: Da’an Chubanshe 大安出版社. ———. 1996. Collected Works of Zhu Xi 朱熹集. Chengdu 成都: Sichuan Jiaoyu Chubanshe 四 川教育出版社. Yong Huang is a professor at the Department of Philosophy, The Chinese University of Hong Kong and the editor of Dao: A Journal of Comparative Philosophy and The Dao Companions to Chinese Philosophy series. He is an author of three monographs in English and three collections of essays in Chinese. He is also an author of 80+ articles each in Chinese and English. His main areas of research are Chinese philosophy, comparative philosophy, and ethics.  

Chapter 35

Zhu Xi and the Liberalism/ Communitarianism Debate: An Imperfect Fit Catherine Hudak Klancer

1 Introduction In the middle of the nineteenth century, the philosopher and essayist Thomas Carlyle famously asserted that “history is but the biography of great men” (Carlyle 1840: 34). Unsurprisingly, Herbert Spencer, a prolific contributor to the then nascent field of sociology, took issue with Carlyle’s assessment of the power of the individual, choosing instead to ascribe more agency to society. From Spencer’s point of view, “the genesis of a great man depends on the long series of complex influences which has produced the race in which he appears, and the social state into which that race has slowly grown.… Before he can remake his society, his society must make him” (Spencer 1896: 34). With this statement, Spencer granted that a single great man may be capable of changing history in significant ways, and in so doing established himself, along with Carlyle, in a line of political thinking, dating back to Plato and Aristotle, that paid special attention to the political elite of society. Despite his agreement with Carlyle on the at least theoretical possibility of great men, however, Spencer also raised a question as to the fundamental source of the power to drive human events: is it those great men themselves, or is it the societies that form them? More than a hundred years later, liberal and communitarian thinkers took up a similar debate concerning the question of precisely how agency is distributed within the human community. While the argument between the two sides is hardly black and white, liberal philosophers, who place more emphasis on the power of the individual, tend to think of people as fundamentally separable from the social environment in which they find themselves, while communitarians, who pay more attention to the role that society plays in shaping the individual, tend to tether people C. H. Klancer (*) Core Curriculum and Department of Religion, Boston University, Boston, MA, USA e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2020 K.-c. Ng, Y. Huang (eds.), Dao Companion to ZHU Xi’s Philosophy, Dao Companions to Chinese Philosophy 13, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-29175-4_35

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more tightly to their communities. As we will see in the discussion below, this question of emphasis is of more than academic interest: philosophical conceptions of who we are turn out to be very difficult to disentangle from moral theses concerning how human life should be organized. Confucianism, a tradition very familiar with the relationship between the human is and the human ought,1 has in the recent past been cast as a useful counterweight to the excesses of liberal thought (Tu 1998) and as a possible beneficiary of communitarian ways of thinking as well (Bell 2016). This chapter continues the project of adding a Confucian voice to the liberal/communitarian debate, in particular, that of the great Neo-Confucian scholar Zhu Xi 朱熹 (1130–1200 CE). After a brief introduction to both sides of the debate, the discussion will move forward to consider whether and how the primacy of the individual suggested by Zhu’s teachings on students thinking for themselves and his own self-perceived status as an outsider complements his teachings on filial piety and deference to elder brothers (xiaodi 孝弟) and correct ritual demeanor and practice (li 禮). Throughout this discussion, I will be drawing on Zhu in conversation: first, with his predecessors, particularly in his Commentary on the Analects (Lunyu Jizhu 論語集注), which was not only personally very important to him (see Makeham 2003: 179, 182), but also extraordinarily influential in the centuries following his death (see Gardner 2007: xiv–xv; Makeham 2003: 2). In addition, focusing on Zhu’s reading of Confucius’ Analects makes sense as it is a book primarily about human beings in society. We will also look at Zhu in conversation with the present and the future of his own community, primarily but not exclusively in the Analects of Master Zhu (Zhuzi Yulei 朱子語類), which was compiled, as the Analects was by Confucius’ followers, by Zhu’s students after his death. Looking at what Zhu has to say both as a student of the sages and as a teacher in his own time is important not only in demonstrating the continuity of his thinking across different works and contexts, but also in uncovering how he understood himself, and, hence, to a certain extent, other people. I argue that the fundamentally elitist worldview that emerges from this study of Zhu’s thought fits into neither the liberal nor the communitarian camp, and, further, that Zhu himself does not fit into their argument at all—in part because of his common ground with Carlyle and Spencer. Bringing both of these latter voices into the conversation will hopefully serve to underscore to the reader that the differences between Zhu and his interlocutors in this essay should not be explained away by invoking the often problematic categories of “East” and “West.”

 As the following discussion will show, Zhu Xi in particular disagrees with David Hume’s proposition that one cannot coherently move from descriptive (is) to prescriptive (ought) statements. 1

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2 Liberalism vs. Communitarianism: The Debate The difficulties of briefly introducing the liberal/communitarianism debate begin at a fairly elementary level, given that the participants on each side are often unwilling to accept the terminology and/or the definitions of the other. Most fundamentally, two of the philosophers generally identified as communitarians resist being labeled as such: Alasdair MacIntyre claims that “a communitarian is something that I have never been” (MacIntyre 2007: xiv), while Michael Sandel is careful to distance himself from communitarianism as “majoritarianism,” or “the idea that rights should rest on the values that predominate in any given community at any given time” (Sandel 1998: x, xi). The situation appears to become simpler when we consider that they are both explicit in setting themselves against liberal philosophers, whom MacIntyre attacks as “characteristically committed to denying any place for a determinate conception of the human good in their public discourse, let alone allowing that their common life should be grounded in such a conception” (MacIntyre 2007: xv). Meanwhile, Sandel contrasts their thought—negatively— against his own preferred school of “republicanism,” which, unlike liberalism, “is not neutral toward the values and ends its citizens espouse” (Sandel 1996: 6). However, their shared characterization of liberalism as morally neutral raises questions of its own: the self-declared liberal philosopher Will Kymlicka disparages the “accepted wisdom that liberalism involves abstract individualism and skepticism about the good” (Kymlicka 1988: 184) and John Rawls claims that “the case for liberty” does not “imply skepticism in philosophy or indifference to religion” (Rawls 1999: 188). Nonetheless, labeling certain parties as belonging to either camp still arguably has value. Even though Sandel and MacIntyre see the dangers in giving too much power to community—with Sandel fearing “majoritarianism” and MacIntyre going so far as to say “I see no value in community as such” (MacIntyre 2007: xiv)—they also emphasize the role of the community in shaping the self, whereas Kymlicka focuses more on the role of the individual in shaping his or her own life, and Rawls’s most famous thought experiment involves a moral agent wholly unencumbered by social ties or responsibilities. On a related note, while Kymlicka and Rawls may believe in an objective human good not subject to the whims of individuals, they are less impressed with the power of the community to reveal it to individuals than with the power of individuals to find it on their own. Hence, I will follow in the footsteps of many others in assigning MacIntyre and Sandel a communitarian, and Rawls and Kymlicka a liberal, label.2 The debate between them began with the publication of Rawls’ A Theory of Justice in 1971. In the most well known passage in the book, Rawls invited his

 While I have decided to draw attention to these points of difference between liberal and communitarian thinkers, another fruitful approach is to compare the communitarian tendency to give higher priority to the good with the liberal preference for focusing on the right. See Huang 1996 and Huang 1998. 2

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readers to imagine themselves behind a “veil of ignorance,” from which location they would choose the kind of society into which they would be born. From behind this veil, no one knows his place in society, his class position or social status, nor does any one know his fortune in the distribution of natural assets and abilities, his intelligence, strength, and the like. I shall even assume that the parties do not know their conceptions of the good or their special psychological propensities.… This ensures that no one is advantaged or disadvantaged in the choice of principles by the outcome of natural chance or the contingency of social circumstances. Since all are similarly situated and no one is able to design principles to favor his particular condition, the principles of justice are the result of a fair agreement or bargain. (Rawls 1999: 11)

Although Rawls is careful to note that “this original position [behind the veil] is not, of course, thought of as an actual historical state of affairs, much less a primitive condition of culture,” and that it is to be “understood as a purely hypothetical situation characterized so as to lead to a certain conception of justice” (Rawls 1999: 11), his work nonetheless opens up the possibility that we can conceive of a self who is completely separable from her social roles and circumstances. Moreover, Rawls suggests that such an exercise is conducive to making truly moral decisions, unencumbered by one’s own personal biases and interests: if a self is fully separable from its society, then perhaps it ought to be so separated in certain moral situations. Following and building upon Rawls’ work, Will Kymlicka embraces the idea of a person fundamentally detachable from her society, particularly in his discussion of story. For him, the process of questioning the value of our projects and commitments is the stuff of great literature—we tell stories to ourselves and to others about what gives value to life, from children’s fairy tales to Dostoevskian epics. But they only make sense on the assumption that our beliefs about such values could be mistaken. (Kymlicka 1988: 182)

Moreover, they only make sense if we, as individuals, can both see the mistakes and find the right answers on our own. While Kymlicka recognizes the role of the community in forming the self, highlighting, for example, the importance of good education (Kymlicka 1988: 184), he is chiefly concerned with the human person as an individual moral agent. He claims that the “purposes” which are presupposed in the liberal account of the value of freedom could come from an acceptance of communal ends as authoritative horizons, but they could also come from freely made personal judgments about the cultural structure, the matrix of understandings and alternatives passed down to us from previous generations, which offers us possibilities we can either affirm or reject. Nothing is “set for us,” nothing is authoritative before our judgment of its value. (Kymlicka 1988: 182)

For Kymlicka what matters is the individual and the choices she makes: the community is a source of values and ideas that will be important insofar as the individual chooses to make use of them, but not otherwise. Hence, for Kymlicka, as for Rawls, it makes sense to think of people as fundamentally separate from their communities. In both of these cases, we see elements of Carlyle’s theory, although not quite so elaborately: while neither Rawls nor Kymlicka goes so far as to promise that

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individuals will make history, they do suggest that individuals at least can make their own biographies—an important distinction that will be discussed in further detail later in this essay. The communitarians, on the other hand, line up more neatly with Spencer’s thesis concerning the role of society in forming the individual. While, as we have seen, Rawls was careful to make clear that his thought experiment was an artificial device, and Kymlicka allows society a role in shaping the individual, communitarians persist in claiming that the community is more central to the self than liberal models allow for, particularly when we come to questions concerning moral agency. In his classic jeremiad After Virtue, Alasdair MacIntyre makes the argument that ethical action is only possible with reference to one’s place in society: We all approach our own circumstances as bearers of a particular social identity. I am someone’s son or daughter, someone else’s cousin or uncle; I am a citizen of this or that city, a member of this or that guild or profession; I belong to this clan, that tribe, this nation. Hence what is good for me has to be the good for one who inhabits these roles. As such, I inherit from the past of my family, my city, my tribe, my nation a variety of debts, inheritances, rightful expectations and obligations. These constitute the given of my life, my moral starting point. (MacIntyre 2007: 220)

Unlike Kymlicka, who views society as presenting us with a series of options from which we can choose, or Rawls, who invites us to disassociate ourselves from our social roles and responsibilities when pondering fundamental questions concerning morality, MacIntyre argues that it is these very encumbrances that give us a position from which we can be moral. Moreover, the fact that we are obligated to other people, who have explicitly “rightful” expectations concerning us, suggests that we ought to take those obligations seriously. Moreover, unlike Kymlicka, who, as discussed above, emphasizes the role of stories in raising provocative and possibly destabilizing questions, MacIntyre focuses on the way in which they enable people to develop their moral characters: [It is through hearing stories] that children learn or mis-learn both what a child and what a parent is, what the cast of characters may be in the drama into which they have been born and what the ways of the world are. Deprive children of stories and you leave them unscripted, anxious stutterers in their actions as in their words. (MacIntyre 2007: 216)

While MacIntyre does not rule out the possibility that people may reject or turn against the messages they find in story, or, for that matter, in other types of handed-­ down wisdom (a topic discussed further below), he sees its fundamental role as helping people, especially young people, to make sense of the world in which they live. Much like MacIntyre, Michael Sandel focuses on the general encumbrance of human selfhood, pointing out that “certain moral and political obligations that we commonly recognize—obligations of solidarity, for example, or religious duties— may claim us for reasons unrelated to choice. Such obligations are difficult to dismiss as merely confused, and yet difficult to account for if we understand ourselves as free and independent selves, unbound by moral ties we have not chosen” (Sandel 1998: 188). Rather than understanding ourselves in this latter way,

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Sandel claims that “to imagine a person incapable of constitutive attachments such as these is not to conceive an ideally free and rational agent, but to imagine a person wholly without character, without moral depth… where the self is unencumbered and essentially dispossessed, no person is left for self-reflection to reflect upon” (Sandel 1998: 182). In short, according to both MacIntyre and Sandel, we not only find meaning in community, but, as Spencer puts it, are also ourselves made there, regardless of whether we happen to be great, or—as seems to be far more likely, as we’ll discuss further below—not.

3 Zhu the Liberal? While Zhu might seem at the outset to more naturally fit into the communitarian camp, an argument may certainly be made that aligns him more with Rawls and Kymlicka, whose writings in various ways suggest that the individual may be—or, in some senses should be—separable from his or her community. Such an argument would be grounded in his pedagogical theory, and his own self-perceived stance as an outsider. First of all, from Zhu’s point of view, the student has a very active role to play in her own education: the way of learning is extremely difficult, and those who choose to traverse it should not expect to be carried along by their teachers. In his commentary on Analects 7.8,3 in which Confucius explains that he will not assist students who cannot figure out things for themselves, Zhu writes, This chapter says that the sage is tireless in teaching people, and, because of this, he wishes students to [likewise] exert themselves in effort, and to reflect on what they’ve been taught. Master Cheng said, “Determination and the struggle to put things into words: these are that which make someone’s sincere intentions manifest in a person’s face and words. Wait until his sincerity is at the utmost, and only afterward tell him.” He also said, “if one does not wait until the student is eager to learn and struggling to put it into words, then his knowledge cannot be solid; if one does wait until the student is eager to learn and struggling to put it into words, then his learning will be abundant.” (Zhu 2002, vol. 6: 122)

Quite clearly, rote repetition of a teacher’s remarks will not be enough: in Zhu’s ideal educational environment, students are not given the right words, but must struggle to find them themselves. Like Kymlicka, who wants students to be able to make “personal judgments” about what they see and hear, Zhu expects the learner to perform a great deal of analysis and judgment on her own, and also believes that the knowledge thus obtained will be much more valuable than anything that the student would be able to achieve without such independent effort.

 The verse numbers provided throughout this chapter (here, verse 8 of chapter 7) are based on where and how Zhu places breaks between passages; his system does not always align with those used in English translations. 3

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Moreover, such knowledge may be genuinely new knowledge. When we move from Zhu’s commentary on the words of Confucius to his conversations with his own students, we find a striking readiness to move into uncharted territory. As Zhu puts it in the Yulei, a student must deeply penetrate into what she is told, going beyond even the words of the sages when necessary: “moral principle is infinite. What our predecessors said does not necessarily exhaust it. We must pick it up ourselves and resolutely look it in all its breadth, penetrating it deeply and exhausting all that is there” (Zhu 2002, vol. 14: 309). Here, like Rawls, Zhu imagines a self capable of stepping beyond his own community—in this case, beyond the voices of the most revered members of that community—and in so doing coming to conclusions heretofore unimagined. Moreover, Zhu practices what he preaches, famously reading metaphysical content into ancient texts that Confucians in later centuries argued simply was not there.4 While not the first Confucian thinker to discuss the cosmological elements of principle (li 理) and material force (qi 氣),5 he is both self-aware and explicit in the Yulei about the relative newness of these and other terms in the Confucian canon: “we should not say that if the sages do not speak of it moral principle does not exist. Moral principle exists of itself eternally in the midst of Heaven and Earth” (Zhu 2002, vol. 14: 308). This willingness to move beyond the words left behind by the ancients is all the more striking as Zhu considered himself to be one of their most loyal disciples, as we will see below. For the time being, it is clear that Zhu, like the self in Rawls’s original position, is perfectly capable of making his own decisions untethered by communal contingencies such as the ancient lack of interest in metaphysics that he himself perceived, and like Kymlicka’s rational, free-thinking individual, is perfectly willing to formulate his own ideas, even when doing so puts him in the position of assigning value—to metaphysical discourse—where the ancients did not.6 Finally, not only does he tell his students to think for themselves and provide them with a model for doing so, he cooperates with their efforts in this direction, taking the most difficult questions they and his other contemporaries could think of: as Shuhong Zheng points out, although the Q&A format that Zhu utilizes in his  See Ivanhoe 2016 for a recent discussion of the early modern backlash against Zhu’s metaphysical approach in China and Japan, as well as Korean attempts to deal with the philosophical tensions it raised. 5  For Zhu, everything in existence is comprised of a mixture of li (discussed in further detail later in the essay) and qi, which encompasses not only Western conceptions of matter but also of energy, a combination aptly conveyed by Chan Wing-tsit’s translation. 6  Scholars have long agreed that the rich and abstruse metaphysical discourse of Daoism and, especially, Buddhism influenced Zhu and other Neo-Confucian scholars to develop the philosophical resources of their own tradition in response. As Carsun Chang wrote in 1957, “the greatest stimulus Buddhism gave to the Chinese mind was that it induced Chinese scholars to go back to the base of Confucianism and build their own system there. When they found in Buddhism a gigantic system, they soon conceived the idea that they too must have a cosmology, a theory of human nature, and attitude towards human life, family and government. In other words, they must have metaphysics, ethics, epistemology, etc.” (C. Chang 1957: 129). 4

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Questions and Answers about the Great Learning (Daxue Huowen 大學或問) was around long before his time, none of the previous works in this genre “can be compared with” Zhu Xi’s Huowen: “the questions selected in this book are much more intellectually demanding, and the answers he gives reflect a higher level of complexity” (Zheng 2016: 91). To sum up, in Zhu’s pedagogical theory, the student is not merely allowed but also directed to think for himself, and to move even beyond the words of the sages when appropriate (an important consideration that will be discussed in more detail later in this essay: nothing in his writings suggests that novelty in itself is valuable or admirable); the student will also be expected to ask challenging questions of his or her instructor. In other words, the student has individual agency, suggesting that Zhu believes that the self can make choices independently of a community: a theory that gives him common ground with Rawls and Kymlicka. A final relevant note is that Zhu himself does not really identify with his temporal community, choosing instead to align himself with great thinkers of the past. In taking this path, Zhu is following in the footsteps of Confucius before him, whose self-identification as a “transmitter” of ancient wisdom is reported on with great approval by Zhu in his commentary on Analects 7.1: Confucius abridged the Book of Odes and The Book of History, set the ritual and the music, promoted the Book of Changes, revised the Spring and Autumn Annals: he passed on all the ancient [wisdom] of the first kings. He never once made anything, and therefore spoke of himself as a transmitter.… Although the task was of transmission, it was twice as important as making something new: one cannot be ignorant of this. (Zhu 2002, vol. 6: 120)

It is not surprising that Zhu thought that transmission was more important than making, given that he, like Confucius, considered himself to be the rescuer of ancient wisdom, assigning himself a place in a line of transmission going back to the ancient sage kings and most recently including the Cheng brothers of the Northern Song dynasty (Cheng Hao 程顥, 1032–1085  CE; Cheng Yi 程頤, 1033–1107 CE). He passes himself the torch in the preface to the Confucian classic the Great Learning: “Although I, Xi, am not clever, I was still fortunate to have learned [from the Cheng brothers’] virtuous [work], and so share in having heard [the tradition]” (Zhu 2002, vol. 6: 14). According to his own reckoning, he was an outsider who wanted to connect with a long distant past. While this notion of “outsider” doesn’t line up precisely with the free-thinking rational agent both Kymlicka and Rawls seem to have in mind, Zhu does conceive of himself as someone who fundamentally does not identify with the society around him, and who, in aligning himself with men long dead and gone, rejects a great deal of what his temporal community has to offer to him. Moreover, as discussed above, Zhu also does not limit himself to repeating what the ancients had to say, and is in a sense an outsider in their community as well, given that he is willing to view their work through a metaphysical lens that he knew full well that they had not used. Clearly, the individual is and at least sometimes ought to be very powerful vis-à-­ vis society in Zhu’s thinking. As this section has endeavored to show, he, like Rawls and Kymlicka, seems to be promoting freedom of thought and personal intellectual

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responsibility that cannot be handed off to one’s community. Furthermore, his choice to transmit teachings of the past that he considered to be wrongfully neglected in his own time on his own terms shows a belief that both liberal philosophers would find congenial in the ability of an individual to separate himself from his community.

4 Zhu the Communitarian? However, Zhu’s willingness to allow students to ask deep and challenging questions of the wisdom handed down by one’s teachers, while a characteristic that ties him to the liberal philosophers, is not one that divides him from the communitarians, who certainly do not counsel blind acceptance of transmitted teachings. Rather than conceiving of tradition as a dead, dull weight to be absorbed by the passive and unquestioning, MacIntrye defines it as “an extended argument throughout time” (MacIntyre 1988: 12). Meanwhile, watching Sandel engage with the questions raised and arguments made by his students in his Harvard University course on justice demonstrates that he is no promoter of shrinking violets in the classroom (see Sandel 2017). Their shared conception of the life of the mind makes room for precisely the kind of robust questioning that Zhu allows for and even demands of his students, as well as for the historical fact that such questioning had become more or less standard practice in Zhu’s time, and, of course, for the importance of challenging accepted wisdom built into Confucianism as a tradition: as Confucius himself put it, asking questions is part of correct ritual practice (see Analects 3.15).7 On a similar note, while social roles that one does not choose are constitutive of one’s very self for MacIntyre, he does not argue that we are powerless in the face of them; as he puts it, our social identity is our moral “starting point,” not our ending point. In fact, “rebellion against my identity is one way of expressing it” (MacIntyre 2007: 221). Kymlicka claims that since MacIntyre admits that one can step away from one’s culture, his argument for the centrality of social elements within the self collapses (Kymlicka 1988: 193–94). However, this is not necessarily the case: someone who does not practice Christianity because she has rejected it is very different from someone who does not practice it because she has never heard of it: the former has been shaped by the tradition in her very renunciation of it (and, perhaps, by unconscious assumptions and habits of perception rooted deeply enough to survive a conscious break with the tradition), while the latter is unaffected by it. Finally, MacIntyre himself, much like Zhu, quite self-consciously holds himself apart from what he considers to be debased cultural trends, and counsels a return to ancient wisdom—in MacIntyre’s case, to that of the Aristotelian tradition—to bring society back on track. Hence, although Zhu does share some elements of the liberal thinking of Rawls and Kymlicka, it turns out that MacIntyre and Sandel share the same common ground.

 For example, according to John Makeham, Zhu’s “willingness to question the authorized version of the text was in keeping with the times” (Makeham 2003: 183). 7

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The case for aligning Zhu more firmly with the communitarians becomes stronger when we consider the general Confucian understanding of the human self more closely. While Henry Rosemont, Jr., does not conflate Confucianism with communitarianism, for reasons discussed further below, he does describe the Confucian person in terms far closer to those of MacIntyre and Sandel than those of Rawls and Kymlicka: “because everyone is [related] closely to others from birth, the idea of human beings as free, autonomous (and rational) individuals would not have occurred to Confucius, for in the actual world in which everyone lives when not philosophizing we are always encumbered by our responsibilities” (Rosemont 2012: 58). As the discussion below will show, such an idea of human beings would most likely not have occurred to Zhu Xi, either. Like MacIntyre and Sandel, Zhu is keenly aware of the impact that the community has on the formation and eventual agency of the self: the person who is free to ask questions in discussion with a Confucian master is still a very encumbered person. Moreover, Zhu not only recognizes but also reveres the powers that help to make us who we are: respect for the authority of the community, especially as embodied in elders and the distilled wisdom of tradition, is one of the chief characteristics of his thought. In his discussion of filial piety and deference to elder brothers, Zhu suggests that if certain goals—human flourishing, for example—are to be achieved, then people will have to possess and exercise certain attributes, and, for Zhu, respect for elders will be principal among them. Throughout his work, Zhu displays his agreement with the judgment of the Analects that filial piety and deference to elder brothers learned in the home is necessary to the good life; in particular, to the proper development of the cardinal Confucian virtue of ren 仁, or humaneness. As Zhu explains in his commentary on Analects 1.2, the junzi 君子, or superior person, concentrates on the root, and, once he has established himself in the root, the Way can flow through him. If the filial piety and deference to elder brothers spoken of in the above passage are the root of humaneness, the student should engage with them, and then the way of humaneness will flow forth from the root… putting humaneness into practice begins with filial piety and deference to elder brothers. (Zhu 2002, vol. 6: 68)

In this passage, we see that filial piety and deference to one’s elder siblings are necessary to future moral development, in particular, progress in humaneness, and even, in the words of Zhu’s great predecessor, the Master Cheng, necessary to prevent discord and chaos throughout society: “Filial piety and deference to elder brothers are in accord with virtue.8 When people do not enjoy opposing their superiors, how could it be that there would again be unreasonable and chaotic affairs? Virtue has a root, and the Way of humaneness will flourish with greatness once the root is established” (Zhu 2002, vol. 6: 68). Like Sandel, Zhu clearly thinks that we are under moral obligation to people whose company we did not choose, and that these obligations are constitutive of who we are. The role of the community

 N.B.: In many cases, Zhu does not distinguish between his great Neo-Confucian predecessors, the brothers Cheng Hao (1032–85) and Cheng Yi (1033–1107), simply referring to “Master Cheng.” 8

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in forming the self is twofold, both passive and active: while we certainly absorb the lessons it, in the guise of our elders, teaches us when we are children, how we respond to those elders also determines a key part of our moral identity. Moreover, Zhu also thinks that this response is important in defining the quality not only of our lives, but also of the lives of those around us. Hence, for Zhu, reverence for family members is too important a trait to relegate to abstract or academic discussion. In a characteristically Confucian way, Zhu pairs the general call to respect one’s elders with concrete advice about how to do so, and it turns out that obeying the commands of one’s parents plays a large role in a good son’s life, long past childhood and into adulthood. In Analects 4.18, Confucius counsels his students to “gently admonish” their parents when necessary, but not to disobey their orders except in the most extreme of circumstances. As is often the case, Zhu chooses to signal his agreement with Confucius’s advice by reference to other ancient texts that make a similar argument: This chapter manifests the meaning of the “Neize 內則” chapter of the Liji 禮記. “Gently” means “small (微)”; gentle admonishment is like the saying [from the Liji], “When parents make a mistake, the son should have bated breath and bland expression, and with a soft voice admonish them.” “If you see that they do not intend to listen to you, still respect them and do not disobey them,” is like “if the admonition does not get through, the son should be even more respectful and more filial, and when the father is in a good mood the son can raise the admonition again.” (Zhu 2002, vol. 6: 97)

It is very important to note here that neither Confucius nor Zhu is advocating blind obedience: both call for children to admonish their parents when the children can see the parents making a mistake. Moreover, the gentleness with which they are counseled to do so may be seen not merely as a sign of humble piety but also in more tactical terms: as Huang Yong puts it, “if we yell at our parents for their wrongdoings, our parents will naturally get mad, and consequently it is very unlikely that they will listen to our remonstration” (Huang 2013: 144). However, even when such tactful tactics fail, and the mistake on the part of the parents not only endures but also spills out of the house, threatening either other people or the family’s reputation, and the father, in anger, elects to beat the now “strongly remonstrating (shujian 熟諫)” son until he bleeds, the son still must “not dare to feel malice or resentment, but rather be even more respectful and filial.” Zhu’s foregrounding of the virtue of humaneness, discussed above, suggests rather pointedly that he would not approve of brutally beating one’s children: people are supposed to love their children, not abuse them. Nonetheless, it also seems to be the case that Zhu would not approve of a cessation of filial piety even under those circumstances where humaneness is conspicuously absent. While scholars debate the question of whether the admonishment or the obedience is more important in Confucianism,9 what

 Huang, for example, argues that Confucius and Zhu are less focused on obedience than on remonstrance (Huang 2013: 133–34). His reading of this passage and Zhu’s commentary on it are compelling, but do not cancel out Zhu’s insistence on the primacy of obedience in other places, discussed below. 9

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emerges very clearly from this particular section of commentary is Zhu’s belief in the importance of unshakably respecting one’s parents. When we turn away from his direct engagement with Confucius in the Commentary on the Analects, and toward his conversations with his contemporaries, we find that Zhu consistently advocates radical obedience to one’s parents far beyond childhood. The advice he gives to his contemporaneous—and future—readers in his Family Rituals (Zhuzi Jiali 朱子家禮) is less concerned about the rightness or wrongness of a given course of action than with the general moral character of the individual expressed in his behavior as a son: When a son receives a command from his parents, he must write it down and put it in his belt, so that he can examine it from time to time and carry it out promptly. On completing the errand, he returns and reports. If the errand could not be performed, then with a calm expression and a soft voice he fully explains why it is wrong or harmful. He waits for his parents’ permission before making any changes. If they do not approve his suggested change, he goes ahead and performs their order somehow unless it would cause great harm. If, because he thinks his parents’ command is wrong, he simply does what he considers right, then even though his actions were right, he is still a disobedient son. And how much worse if he was not right! (Zhu 1991: 27)

In this passage, while Zhu still calls upon individuals to think their own thoughts and make their own judgments about what may be “wrong or harmful,” he also counsels them to put their own opinions and feelings aside in favor of those of their parents when differences between them arise. To use MacIntyre’s language, Zhu believes that people have inherited from their parents a “variety of debts, inheritances, rightful expectations, and obligations,” which may be discharged with faithfully obedient behavior. Moreover, in this passage, Zhu’s primary concern is developing and protecting the moral character of the son, who must be filial in order to be a moral person: like Sandel, Zhu believes that our relationship with our parents, perhaps unlike our relationships with our teachers, “runs deep enough to be defining” of who we are (Sandel 1998: 182).10 He thus joins with the communitarians in emphasizing the role played by the community in shaping the contours of the human person and his or her range of moral agency, although it is hard to imagine either MacIntyre or Sandel agreeing with the specific moral advice he gives—to obey one’s parents even against one’s own careful judgment, and to submit to the harshest treatment at their hands.11

 David Elstein has argued that while, in the Analects, “Kongzi [Confucius] is occasionally portrayed as a father figure, and he and his disciples do indeed form something of a surrogate family,” overall, the master-student relationship is not defined in terms of the father-son relationship, and “does not demand deference” (Elstein 2009: 144). Something similar appears to be happening in Zhu’s work, where students are freer than sons and daughters to speak out against, and disagree with, their elders. 11  While it is relatively easy to ascertain Zhu’s thoughts on filial piety and parental obedience, doing the same with regard to MacIntyre and Sandel is not such a straightforward exercise. Although MacIntyre admittedly displays a certain amount of filial piety in dedicating After Virtue to the memory of his father, aunts and uncles, he does not bring up the subject of obeying them in its pages, choosing instead to discuss obedience in a political context, e.g., concerning when and how 10

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Zhu’s respect for the authority of the community is also apparent in his teachings concerning the distilled wisdom of tradition. Where MacIntrye prefers to focus on story, Zhu prefers to focus on ritual (li 禮): a term used by Confucians in connection with appropriate behavior, whether denoting religious and social rituals themselves or the ability to perform them successfully. To be clear, I do not mean to suggest here that either Zhu or the Confucian tradition is uninterested in story; as the work of Keith Knapp demonstrates, there is quite a large corpus of Confucian stories designed to inspire people to, for example, practice flial piety toward their parents (Knapp 2012). However, Zhu believes that ritual practice is fundamental to human experience in a way that story-telling is not, and that, along with flial piety and deference to elder siblings, ritually appropriate behavior is necessary to full personal development. In his commentary on Analects 12.1, Zhu writes about how proper ritual practice is necessary for moral cultivation; again, he dwells on the cardinal virtue of humaneness, and virtues attendant to it, in this case, ritual propriety: Humaneness is the root of all virtue in the mind-and-heart, [and] ritual is the refnement of heavenly principle. To be humane is to have a completely virtuous mind-and-heart. After the mind-and-heart is completely virtuous, with nothing that is not in accordance with heavenly principle, then it is also impossible to have anything wrong in human desire. Therefore the one who would be humane must triumph over his selfsh desires and return to ritual. Then affairs will all be in accordance with heavenly principle, and the virtue at the root of the mind-and-heart can return throughout the entire self….

Here, as elsewhere, humaneness—much like the human person as a whole—cannot fourish on its own, and needs other virtues to cooperate with it. In this case the other virtue involves proper ritual practice. And, as usual, this is not about just the person him or herself, but will lead to a ripple effect throughout the human community: “This is also to say that if a person can for one day master the self and return to ritual, then all people under heaven will unite with humaneness, and even more that the effects of this virtue will quickly become widespread.” The same passage explains the relationship between ritual and humaneness, with reference to Master Cheng: “Master Cheng said, ‘That which is not in accordance with ritual leads to selfsh intentions. Once you have selfsh intentions, how can you obtain

patriotism, or loyalty, is separated from obedience toward the government (see MacIntyre 2007: 294–95). Moreover, MacIntyre chooses to see both parents and their adult children as equally open to moral critique and warning, claiming that Jane Austen’s “novels are a moral criticism of parents and of guardians quite as much as of young romantics—the silly Mrs. Bennet and the irresponsible Mr. Bennet, for example—are what the romantic young may become if they do not learn what they ought to learn on the way to being married” (MacIntyre 2007: 261). Meanwhile, Sandel, who similarly demonstrates fliality in dedicating Liberalism and the Limits of Justice to his parents, also chooses not to expound upon this virtue in his work, instead focusing on mutual respect among equal citizens as the basis of a healthy society (see Sandel 1998: 217–18). The egalitarianism implicit in both cases is one element in both men’s thinking that strongly suggests they would be against radical obedience to an unjust parent, and will be contrasted with Zhu’s more hierarchical elitism later in this essay.

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humaneness? One must completely master personal selfishness, and in everything return to ritual: this is the beginning of humaneness’” (Zhu 2002, vol. 6: 167). As we see here, Zhu believes that following the ritual practices set down by the sages is necessary to being a fully developed human being, or a person who is characterized by humaneness toward all, and who has no selfish desires that could lead him into modes of behavior harmful to others. In other words, the distilled wisdom of tradition is essential to the fully human person: unlike Kymlicka, who suggests that “nothing is ‘set for us,’ nothing is authoritative before our judgment of its value” (Kymlicka 1988: 188–89), Zhu argues that the ancient sages in fact authoritatively identified the best practices for human beings, and that our own moral development is contingent upon accepting the requirements and expectations they have set for us. Furthermore, the practical edge, as always, is not far behind: it is not merely a nice idea to master ritual practice to become a better person, but it is also necessary if one expects to avoid the fate of MacIntyre’s “unscripted, anxious stutterer” and to achieve success, particularly in the political arena. Zhu believes that mastering the distilled wisdom of ritual practice is necessary to becoming an effective leader in society. As he warns elsewhere in his commentary on 15.32, If one rushes and is not formal, does not proceed in accordance with ritual, and has small flaws in his endowment of qi or his learning, then, indeed, he will not be able to deeply penetrate the Way of the good. Therefore, Confucius said that the greater one makes his wisdom and virtue, the more prepared he is for responsibility; one must not think that the refinement [of ritual] can be neglected. (Zhu 2002, vol. 6: 209)

For Zhu, ritual practice provides the discipline, the awareness of others, and the refinement that produces the kind of person that deserves to be in power. Clearly, for Zhu, the community, both in the sense of those who have come before us and of what they have to hand to down to us, is extraordinarily important in the formation of the individual human self. From his point of view, we are obligated to our elders (especially our parents), and we are in need of the teachings of the sages on ritual—and we ought to proceed accordingly. While he is in firm agreement with the communitarians on these grounds, his relationship with them becomes more complicated when we turn to other elements of his moral, and especially political, teachings.

5 Zhu the Elitist Thus far, our discussion has shown us that, from Zhu’s point of view, while obedience to one’s parents and reverence for the ritual practice of the sages are sacred, non-­negotiable values, other mores and teachings may be questioned, or even improved upon. Looking more carefully at the circumstances under which this latter questioning may take place will begin to show us how Zhu does not quite fit into either side of the liberal/communitarian debate.

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It is hardly surprising to find that Zhu, a Confucian scholar in twelfth century China, does not line up precisely on either side of a late twentieth century debate in Anglo-American philosophy, both sides of which will tend to share certain basic assumptions about the nature of the self that would not have been philosophically, culturally, or even linguistically available to Zhu.12 For example, Rosemont claims that not only Rawls but also Sandel and MacIntyre are foundational individualists in that they all believe that “individual selves are what we are” (Rosemont 2015: 37), regardless of how or of what these selves are constituted, and that the individual self is, “in the end, the basic [object] of worth, respect and dignity” (34). In contrast, Rosemont argues, the Confucian tradition conceives of human beings as role-­ bearing persons, “defined in large measure by the other(s) with whom [they] interact” (94).13 In fact, Rosemont claims, for Confucians in general, human beings “are best accounted for as the sum of the roles they live, with no remainder of consequence” (14). However, the sources Rosemont draws on in making these claims are primarily from the ancient period, and, while his argument sheds light on some important elements of the Neo-Confucian thought developed centuries later, it eclipses others. As the following discussion will show, Zhu, perhaps the most important figure in the Neo-Confucian movement, aligns with Rosemont’s first statement about the importance of social roles to a person’s identity, but provides grounds for a “remainder of consequence.” In addition, I argue that Zhu’s elitism, or his position that some people are both morally and intellectually superior to others, and hence qualified to rule over those others, separates him from both the liberal and the communitarian philosophers, while joining him more closely to their nineteenth century forebears: as I noted in the beginning of this essay, both Thomas Carlyle and Herbert Spencer grant at least the possibility of such great men, even if they differ on how the power of such men should be judged vis-à-vis that of their societies. Zhu’s elitism is also part of a wider worldview that sees the human self as more than the sum of its social parts. As I noted above, Zhu believes that, at times and under certain conditions, it is both permissible and advisable to question social customs and common sense. I should add here that the character of the questioner is of paramount importance. Challenging institutional authority is a serious business, and not everyone should engage in it. Zhu, like generations of Confucians before him, is particularly interested in one key group in society, the political elite, who may or may not be qualified, from Zhu’s point of view, to hold the power they do in fact hold. Rather, they are, in Aaron Stalnaker’s apt definition, “those ambitious, talented, hardworking people that can make or break a polity by either being coopted by the community for everyone’s good, or who can ride roughshod over the weak and the stupid by dominating others and fighting each other in a zero sum contest that damages  See Peng 2007: 3–10, for an excellent discussion of how difficult it is to fit Chinese thought into Western categories such as “secular” and “religious.” 13  Like Rosemont, Huang Yong sees Confucianism as blending categories that liberal philosophy sees as more or less neatly separable, for example, the personal and the political (Huang 2013: 111). 12

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political order and harms everyone” (Stalnaker 2016: 1). Given the social and moral influence of this group of people, a—if not the—central task of the Confucian tradition is to ensure that the elites are both intellectually superior—possessing the wisdom, or zhi 智, to discern what is most conducive to human flourishing—and morally superior—possessing the will to act in accordance with that discernment.14 As we will see below, Zhu believes that such intellectual and moral elites are both born and taught—and that, while their numbers are few, their influence is immeasurable. To begin with, as discussed above, the process of education is terribly long and difficult, even for one so gifted as Confucius himself. In his comments on what Irene Bloom has called the world’s shortest autobiography, Analects 2.4, Zhu elucidates what he considers to be Confucius’s meaning: Confucius said, “At fifteen, I set my mind on learning. Zhu: The ancients began their adult learning at the age of fifteen. The will is the mind-and-­ heart. What is called “study” here is the same as the Way of the great learning. “Setting the mind” is going forth zealously and tirelessly. At thirty, I had become established. Zhu: Once he had become established, he guarded his stability, and did not set his mind on [worldly] affairs. At forty, I had no doubts. Zhu: With respect to the way affairs and things ought to be, he was completely without doubt; he knew it clearly, and did not have to guard himself against any kind of affair. At fifty, I knew the Mandate of Heaven. Zhu: The Mandate of Heaven is the Way of heaven that flows through and is endowed in all things, and is the reason things are the way they ought to be. Knowing the Mandate is to know its essence exceedingly well, and that there would be no uncertainties (once it is known) goes without saying. At sixty my ear was obedient. Zhu: What he heard entered his heart, without any violation, and he knew it to the utmost: he could obtain it without deliberation. At seventy, I could follow whatever my heart desired and not transgress what is right. Zhu: He was at peace in following whatever his heart desired, and not transgressing the law: he didn’t have to exert himself to hit the mark. [in his behavior] (Zhu 2002, vol. 6: 75)

Clearly, both intellectual and moral education is being recorded and analyzed in this passage, and progress in both is presented as taking a great deal of time and effort: Confucius says that he did not know the Mandate of Heaven until the age of fifty, and that he was not able to follow it with no struggle until ten years later, and that it took him a further ten years to be able to follow the desires of his own heart without transgression. In not arguing with Confucius’s reported account of himself, but rather paraphrasing it, Zhu demonstrates his own belief in the difficulty of the  Zhu—following Confucius and many others—consistently identifies wisdom as one of the cardinal virtues, defining it as “the discrimination of ren (知者, 仁之分別)” (Zhu 2002, vol. 14: 249). As this linkage with humaneness suggests, wisdom, for Zhu, is not merely a theoretical or academic virtue, but rather one with major performative implications: “Wisdom for Zhu indicated one’s sensitive discernment and attunement to the patterns (li 理) of change, formation, and phenomena. Intriguingly, it also included the perspicacity (ming 明) and skill/cunning (qiao 巧) to fashion appropriate, adaptive responses to complex, changing situations” (Thompson 2007: 330). 14

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process of both intellectual and moral development, which he also shares in his advice to his own students in the Yulei that they “can’t seek after or long for rapid accomplishment” (Zhu 2002, vol. 14: 284). Moreover, if Confucius needed fifty-five years of ceaseless study to achieve a state of perfect moral equilibrium, it’s only natural to suspect that mortals with a more typical set of capabilities will never succeed in doing so.15 Zhu in fact suspects just this. As he writes in his commentary on Analects 8.9, “the common people can be made to follow the nature of heavenly principle, but they cannot be made to understand the reason why things are so” (Zhu 2002, vol. 6: 134).16 Zhu is very clear here: most people are teachable with regard to what they should be doing, but not why they should be doing it—and, by implication, even less should they be trusted to figure out or choose a proper course of action. From his perspective, the vast majority of people simply do not have the capacity to become wise. In his conversation with his students, Zhu fleshes out this theory by referring to the murkiness of the material force (qi),17 with which they are endowed at birth. As Zhu puts it in the Yulei, there are those [people] who are born good, and those who are just born bad. This is because of differences in their endowment of material force. When the material force of the sun and moon is clear and bright, and the [weather] is appropriate [to the] season, the person born at this time will receive this material force; then [having] this material force, he or she will certainly become a good person. If the sun and moon are dim and darkened, and the [weather of] the season is abnormal, all this is the perverse material force of heaven and Earth. If a person obtains this material force, he or she will become a bad person. How can this be doubted? (Zhu 2002, vol. 14: 198)

While this may seem to be very bad news for people with bad material force, from Zhu’s point of view, there may be no particular reason to fret: although many are

 To be clear, neither Confucius nor Zhu Xi conceives of moral or intellectual success in absolute terms, where people either achieve it or they do not: both counsel their students, for example, to pay close attention to the moral lessons their social inferiors may have to teach them (see Analects 7.21; Zhu 2002, vol. 13: 190). Nonetheless, rather than promoting the egalitarianism many might see as naturally flowing from such admonitions, Confucius and Zhu (and many, many other Confucian thinkers) seek to improve upon and even shore up the political and social hierarchies in which they lived by identifying and training those fit to lead the rest of us (See Klancer 2015: 211–13; 229–31). 16  Huang Yong reads Zhu Xi more optimistically than I do. He draws on Cheng Yi’s distinction between innate and learned knowledge that enables Cheng (and later Zhu) to argue that while the common people cannot be made to understand virtue, they may come to understand it on their own (Huang 2008). Although I can see his theoretical point, I also wonder about its practical application: how will the people come to such an understanding, if not through education? In a tradition conspicuously lacking in appeals for divine assistance in either moral or intellectual development, there seems to be little hope for those born with average levels of aptitude other than that outlined in this section—that someone else be born to lead them. 17  See note 5 above for a brief discussion of this term. 15

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constitutionally challenged, morally and/or intellectually speaking, only the most hardened will be unable to happily obey the right men in the right positions.18,19 In Zhu’s thought, the moral failure of the many is more than outmatched by the moral power of the few, who can order the state by example rather than through violence. In his commentary on Confucius’ comparison of the moral example of the superior person to wind and the common people to grass in Analects 12.19, Zhu essentially restates Confucius’s point, asking, “with regard to government, what the people see, they put into effect—so how can one speak of killing [in order to keep order]? If the ruler desires what is good, the people will desire what is good” (Zhu 2002, vol. 6: 174). If people have a good example to follow, Zhu says, they will follow it. As is often the case, what we find Zhu saying in his conversation with Confucius we also find him saying in his conversations with his contemporaries. As he tells his own students in the Yulei, amongst the people born of Heaven, there must arise brilliant people who rise to become leaders to rule the others. The rulers will govern the people so that quarrels will stop, lead them so that the sustenance and support of life will follow, and teach them so that the principles of human relations are clear. Then the way of human beings will be established, the way of Heaven will flourish, and the way of Earth will be at peace. (Zhu 2002, vol. 13: 202)

Clearly, he is hardly as optimistic about the power of individuals to make good choices as Rawls, nor as eager as Kymlicka to give everyone the “liberty” to figure out things on their own. I hasten to add here that Zhu is in fact in favor of expanding access to education, across social classes (see Gardner 1986: 58) and even genders (see Zhu 2002, vol. 14: 271) in the firm belief that it will help people advance some way along the path of moral improvement.20 Nonetheless, while other Confucians have argued that, through proper discipline and study, “anyone can become a Yu” (Xunzi 1996) or a sage king, in the passages discussed here Zhu seems to be making a fundamentally different argument about the limited capacity of many human beings to progress along the road to wisdom, and hence against an egalitarian view.21

 To be clear, Zhu does not rule out the possibility of bad but clever men, but he does not consider them to be truly intelligent: for him, wisdom is a virtue tightly linked with humaneness (see Note 14 above). Similarly, while humane tendencies may be both sincere and powerful in the intellectually challenged, from Zhu’s point of view, humaneness is dependent for its full flowering on the aid of wisdom (see Note 15 above). 19  Huang Yong pointed out in his comments on an earlier draft of this essay that Zhu believes that dark qi can be brightened. I agree, and in fact interpret his faith in the power of the morally exemplary to positively influence the rest of society as an expression of this fundamental position; however, I would not read such faith as involving confidence that all people can become morally exemplary. 20  Peng Guoxiang has an excellent recent discussion of Zhu’s understanding of both the physical and spiritual benefits that can accrue to the conscientious student—whether struggling or otherwise—from reading the Confucian classics. See Peng 2015. 21  For a thoughtful recent discussion of this passage, and the moral reflection behind it, see Huang 2013: 51–53. 18

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While Zhu is not nearly so optimistic about the mass of people as Rawls and Kymlicka seem to be, his optimism about the power of great men to lead the rest of us seems to separate him from MacIntyre and Sandel. Although the contemporary reader may automatically dismiss Zhu’s pronouncements regarding the ability of certain individuals to fundamentally change society as rhetorical flourish or hyperbole, there is little indication that Zhu or other Confucian scholars would have wanted them to do so. The answer to the question of how seriously to take an author’s intent is, of course, neither obvious nor universally agreed upon, and different circumstances may call for different approaches. As Bryan Van Norden notes, while there is certainly a time and place for the hermeneutics of suspicion, which aid greatly in projects of deconstruction, there are also times for the more constructive hermeneutics of restoration (Van Norden 2007: 5–6). In this latter type of engagement, rather than dismissing claims we have been culturally conditioned to reject out of hand, we read the author and the argument he is trying to make in good faith, on the assumption that he is going about his business in good faith himself. It is in this spirit that Herbert Fingarette warned “the sophisticated citizen of the twentieth century” against reading the “magical” power of the sage out of Confucian texts (Fingarette 1972: 5). More recently, and more specifically relevant to this discussion, Stephen Angle has written that Zhu himself believed sagehood, or a state of possessing perfect and full virtue (Angle 2009: 18) to be “a genuine possibility” (Angle 2009: 143).22 Arguably, reading Zhu in good faith requires taking him seriously when he says that a great man has the power to, essentially, save society from itself. It might seem that MacIntyre would be on board with this line of thinking, given that he seems to be anticipating a heroic individual to save us from ourselves in the very last sentence of After Virtue: “we are waiting not for a Godot, but for another— doubtless very different—St. Benedict” (MacIntyre 2007: 263). However, reading this line literally, or in a “Confucian” manner, presents some problems, most immediately due to MacIntyre’s own commentary, published in the book’s third edition: “It was my intention to suggest, when I wrote that last sentence in 1980, that ours too is a time of waiting for new and unpredictable possibilities of renewal” (MacIntyre 2007: xvi).23 The more impersonal “possibilities” is more in keeping with the project of After Virtue as a whole, which, while certainly meant as a project of cultural rescue, relies more on certain moves—for example, rejecting Nietzsche’s philosophy in favor of rediscovering Aristotle’s—than on the rising up of great men. Much the same can be said for Sandel, who promotes what he calls a “deliberative model of respect” between people of different opinions, but does not look for a sage to either devise or promote one (Sandel 1998: 217–18). Neither MacIntyre nor  As Angle points out elsewhere, the faith of Zhu and other Neo-Confucians in the possibility of sagehood did not require a corresponding belief in the intervention or assistance of the divine, or the sage’s transcendence of his or her own human nature: “however unlikely [attainment] of sagehood may be, it is a metaphysical possibility because it is a fundamentally human status. Sages are exceptional humans, to be sure, and may sometimes appear to be mysterious, beyond the ken of ordinary people. But they are humans, nonetheless” (Angle 2009: 26). 23  Italics added. 22

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Sandel, unquestionably both highly sophisticated citizens of the twentieth—and twenty-first—century, appears to believe in the magical power of one person to change everything: or, if they do, do not foreground such beliefs in their professional works of philosophy—a point developed in more detail in the section below. On the other hand, Zhu, as a Confucian, believes in what Fingarette calls the “magical” power of the sage. It is my contention that Zhu cannot be wholly contained on either side of the liberal/communitarian debate, due not only to the intellectual and moral elitism he displays alongside such Western thinkers as Thomas Carlyle and Herbert Spencer—an important point to remember in this cross-cultural comparison—but also to the degree to which he displays it, going so far as to claim, as we have seen, that his great man can create a society that promotes and produces human flourishing in alignment with the great powers of Heaven and Earth.

6 Zhu the Cosmologist As the references to Heaven and Earth above suggest, Zhu’s elitism is grounded in an understanding of the human condition that is both deeper and broader than that informing the liberal/communitarian debate. Even more than not fitting into either side, I would argue, Zhu cannot be contained in this debate as a whole, as his worldview places human beings in a context far greater than they are, and leads him to consider both persons and communities from many different angles. Zhu’s system of thought is wholly infused with his faith that the universe is a fundamentally good place permeated with moral significance. Like Confucius, he believes that Heaven speaks to human beings in morally significant ways through the processes of the natural world, commenting on Analects 17.19 that: The four seasons run their course; the hundred things are born: is it not the case that the flowing substance of heavenly principle can be seen [everywhere], and that it does not have to speak in order to be seen? … [Master Cheng] said, “‘What does Heaven say? The four seasons run their course, the hundred things are born:’ this saying may be called reaching the utmost of enlightenment.” (Zhu 2002, vol. 6: 224)

In his conversations with his students, Zhu develops Confucius’ belief that nature speaks to us in morally significant ways within a complex system of basic cosmological elements and their interaction: as Zhu expresses in his doctrine of “one principle, many manifestations (liyifenshu 理一分殊),” the principle he refers to above is one, connecting and grounding all of existence, but its many manifestations are expressed in the fecund diversity of the wanwu 萬物, or ten thousand things.24 According to Zhu, such “things” are not limited to organisms: the world is  See Jinsilu 近思錄 (Reflections on Things at Hand), compiled by Zhu and Lü Zuqian 呂祖謙, in Zhu 2002, vol. 13: 167, for a statement of his cosmology. According to the Yulei, the taiji 太極 (Great Ultimate) in this account is a synonym for “principle” (“the great ultimate is merely the principle of heaven and earth and the ten thousand things”) (Zhu 2002, vol. 14: 113).

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neither limited to living creatures nor even to the products of nature. He says in the Yulei, “as soon as there is a thing, it has its principle. Heaven cannot produce a pen, but humans can make a pen out of rabbit hair. As soon as there is a pen, it has its principle” (Zhu 2002, vol. 14: 189). The key to moral development is to correctly identify the manifestation of principle, both practical and moral, in every object the senses present to us—hence Zhu’s famous dictum to investigate things (gewu 格 物)—and then treat and/or use those things accordingly (for example, to use the pen to write essays that expound upon principle rather than to poke people in the eye). On the other hand, while the thought of the contemporary philosophers in the liberalism/communitarian debate is clearly grounded in metaphysical conceptions of the human self as fundamentally separable—or not—from its community, and doesn’t cancel out the possibility for a complementary or even causal cosmology, it does not require such a cosmology. In fact, as far as much thought in the contemporary academy is concerned, cosmology is the “superlative hypothesis” of Laplace.25 For Zhu, however, neither the human individual nor the community can be adequately explained in narrowly or exclusively anthropocentric terms. Rather, to use Tu Weiming’s term, a full understanding of humanity requires an anthropocosmic worldview, in which the seeker refers to Heaven and the principle with which it has endowed him or her, which, in turn, is present in a myriad of manifestations in all other things in existence. The centrality of his belief in principle can be seen precisely in the way in which it informs the break between Zhu and the participants in the liberal/communitarian debate: an individual can separate herself from the community not primarily because she’s a free rational self-making agent, but rather because she can get in touch with the truest and best part of herself, which, while certainly activated by a good communal culture, upbringing, and education, is not composed of them, but rather bestowed on her by Heaven. In other words, some of us can separate ourselves from our communities in fruitful ways through exploring how we are deeply joined to the cosmos. Those who succeed in so doing become members of the true elite, capable of promoting genuine flourishing and prosperity not only of the human realm, but also of Heaven and Earth. Zhu’s belief in the profound significance of every particle and corner of the cosmos grounds his breadth of scholarship, which is astonishing from a contemporary point of view. To cite just a few examples, in recent years, articles have appeared on everything from his theory that “people could not only use dreams to test their accomplishments, but also improve their morality” (Y. Chang 2010) to his excursions into such “scientific” topics as calendrical astronomy and “esoteric” subjects as

 In some circles, much the same can be said for metaphysics. Philip J.  Ivanhoe, for example, writes approvingly of the “naturalist” turn, in both East and West, from medieval attempts such as Zhu’s to ground ethical philosophy in a complex metaphysical framework to a more narrowly circumscribed psychological or empirically scientific approach (see Ivanhoe 2016: 180–81). Nonetheless, others like Huang Yong (and myself) feel that is still “justifiable” to desire metaphysical explanations for moral values, and that if people “find Zhu Xi’s ‘ontological articulation’ unacceptable, they may need to provide an alternative one” (Huang 2011: 278n29. The term “ontological articulation” is Charles Taylor’s.) 25

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internal alchemy (Kim 2015) to his own highly accomplished work as a poet (Yang 2012). Today, scholars are not expected to publish works on both the nature of the self and calendrical astronomy. Living in an era in which “generalist” is not a term of flattery—in fact, often rather the opposite—it is particularly fitting to close this essay on Zhu Xi, a man who allied himself more with his predecessors than with what he perceived to be prevailing trends of his own society, with a brief and possibly counterintuitive consideration of what we might gain from Zhu’s broad approach to learning.

7 Conclusion The Pulitzer Prize winning novelist and essayist Marilynne Robinson has critiqued what she calls the pervasive contemporary “tendency to fit a tight and awkward carapace of definition over humankind, and to try to trim the living creature to fit the dead shell” (Robinson 2012: 7). Zhu and other Confucians who came before him are certainly in no danger of indulging in such a practice. The Confucian sage is famously broad in his knowledge; in commenting on Confucius’ lack of a particular specialization such as archery or charioteering, described in Analects 9.2, Zhu approvingly writes: “the way of the sage is to completely prepare for virtue; he can’t be partial” (Zhu 2002, vol. 6: 139).26 However, this sort of teaching does not translate into knowing nothing of practical use; as Kim Yung Sik points out, Zhu, a government official, would have had to have a working competence in a variety of subjects, ranging from music to mathematics to medicine (Kim 2015: 123). Moreover, in any case, his doctrine and practice of gewu are based on the explicit understanding that moral principle is everywhere waiting to be discovered: the danger is not that any one practical or specialized field of study is useless, ethically speaking, but rather that restricting one’s attention to one or even a few such fields will limit one’s moral vision. Moreover, restricting oneself to one type of attention may be a mistake: although this essay has focused on his more analytical pronouncements, Zhu also expresses himself in more lyrical terms, leaving behind 1240 poems. As Yang Zhiyi puts it, “the writing practice of Zhu Xi as poet tacitly acknowledges aspects of human experience with the world which cannot be fully expressed discursively, but can be recreated in poetry through skillful language” (Yang 2012: 610). Throughout the body of his work, Zhu embraces not only the complexity of the world, but also the complexity of the human response to it. If anything has been left out of his writings, it seems, its absence is not due to a lack of effort on his part to be all-encompassing. Hence, what Zhu does is to give us a model of how to deal with reality as human beings actually experience it, with what Rosemont calls “the actual world in which

  Quoting the Master Yin (Yinshi 尹氏), possibly Cheng Yi’s disciple Yin Chun 尹焞 (1071–1142). 26

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everyone lives when not philosophizing” (Rosemont 2012: 58), in which we are not only encumbered by our social responsibilities, but also prone to poetic expression, curious about dreams, interested in the workings of the natural world, concerned about national politics, and desirous of moral and spiritual advancement. While the vast majority of us will not be able to fully imitate Zhu’s arguably magical ability to explore so many aspects of the world and human experience with so much depth and insight, he nonetheless provides us with a model for taking all the parts of our lives seriously. Moreover, in an age of information overload and compassion fatigue, Zhu gives us advice for more positively dealing with the complexities of reality. As he notes in his commentary on Analects 9.7, Confucius modestly says that he has no real knowledge, but that when a person, however stupid, comes to him with a request, he doesn’t dare to not give it his full attention [and] delves into the beginning and the end, the roots and the branches, the top and the bottom, the fine and the coarse, all without limit. (Zhu 2002, vol. 6: 141)

Zhu’s own oeuvre is replete with protestations of his own lack of knowledge27; this self-perception, whether real, feigned, or a complex combination of both, clearly does not stop him from continuing to explore and publish in a variety of fields, and to at least aim for doing so in a manner respectful both to the world and to the people who are waiting to hear from him. In the end, one of his most important lessons to us may be that, while the world presents us with many questions that no one person will ever be able to answer, there are very few questions on which a thoughtful person with a willing spirit cannot shed some light: perhaps, none at all. While Zhu Xi does not join with Leibniz in explicitly claiming that we live in the best of all theoretically possible worlds, it is clear that he thinks that ours is an exceptionally good one, one that repays a reverential attitude toward it and intellectual curiosity about it. Daring to make such extravagant statements concerning the fundamental nature of this world, as Zhu does, can, of course, go terribly wrong: in shying away from grand cosmological theories and attendant political promises about the magical power of great men to put things to rights for the rest of us, philosophers like Rawls, Kymlicka, MacIntrye and Sandel unquestionably avoid a great deal of danger. However, in so doing, they also preclude a great deal of possible good: Zhu’s account of a great universe that makes a truly great man possible may help to alleviate what Charles Taylor has called “the stifling of the spirit and the atrophy of so many of our spiritual sources” (Taylor 1992: 107).28 In closing, in fitting into neither liberal nor communitarian thinking nor even the debate between them as a whole, Zhu raises questions not only about the relationship

 For one example, see his preface to the Daxue quoted above.  In this passage, Taylor is referring to the costs of refusing to articulate one’s most deeply held beliefs and values, but I believe that similar costs accrue to the person who limits the range or depth of her spiritual and moral vision. N.B.: Taylor is yet another of the thinkers labeled a communitarian against his own inclination. 27 28

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between the individual—especially when unusually gifted—and his or her community, but also about the deeper resources Confucianism may have to offer; in particular, to the perennial question of how to best understand human beings and their relationships with each other, in order to promote their flourishing, and the flourishing of the world at large. Acknowledgements  The author would like to thank Huang Yong, Ng Kai-chiu, Brian Loh, Michael Ing, and Stephanie Nelson for their valuable feedback and advice concerning earlier drafts of this essay.

References Angle, Stephen. 2009. Sagehood: The Contemporary Significance of Neo-Confucian Philosophy. New  York: Oxford University Press. (An insightful and wide-ranging reflection on why the Confucian understanding of sagehood continues to matter). Bell, Daniel. 2016. “Communitarianism.” Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy, March 21, 2016. https://plato.stanford.edu/entries/communitarianism/ (This is an introduction to communitarian thought, including a brief discussion of points of contact and difference between it and the Confucian tradition.) Carlyle, Thomas. 1840. Heroes and Hero Worship. London: Chapman and Hall Ltd. (A work famously claiming that history is moved by great men.) Chang, Carsun. 1957. The Development of Neo-Confucian Thought. New  York: Bookman Associates. (A classic discussion of the Confucian revival beginning in the eighth century CE and flourishing in the eleventh and twelfth centuries.) Chang, Yu. 2010. “The Spirit of the School of Principles in Zhu Xi’s Discussion of ‘Dreams’— And on ‘Confucius Did Not Dream of Duke Zhou.’” Translated by Deyuan. Frontiers of Philosophy in China 5.1: 94–110. (An analysis of Zhu’s work on dreams.) Elstein, David. 2009. “The Authority of the Master in the Analects.” Philosophy East and West 59.2: 142–172. (An analysis of the relationship between Confucius and his students as depicted in the Analects.) Fingarette, Herbert. 1972. Confucius: The Secular as Sacred. Long Grove: Waveland Press. (A modern classic of Confucian philosophical interpretation.) Gardner, Daniel K. 1986. Chu Hsi and the Ta-hsueh: Neo-Confucian Reflection on the Confucian Canon. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. (An explanation of how Zhu Xi interprets the Daxue.) ———. 2007. The Four Books: The Basic Teachings of the Later Confucian Tradition. Indianapolis: Hackett. (An introduction to the Four Books, with commentary on selected passages from each that draws on Zhu Xi’s work.) Huang, Yong. 1996. “Zhu Xi on Humanity and Love: A Neo-Confucian Solution to the Liberal– Communitarian Problematic.” Journal of Chinese Philosophy, 23.2: 213–235. (An alternative understanding of how Zhu fits into the liberal/communitarian debate.) ———. 1998. Religious Goodness and Political Rightness: Beyond the Liberal–Communitarian Debate. New  York: Bloomsbury Press. (An argument for reading the liberal/communitarian debate as fundamentally about different prioritizations of the right and the good.) ———. 2008. “Neo-Confucian Hermeneutics at Work: Cheng Yi’s Philosophical Interpretation of Analects 8.9 and 17.3.” Harvard Theological Review 101:69–201. (A deep and thoughtful reading of important passages in the Analects.)

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———. 2011. “Two Dilemmas in Virtue Ethics and How Zhu Xi’s Neo-Confucianism Avoids Them.” Journal of Philosophical Research 36: 247–281. (An exploration of resources in the Confucian tradition helpful in solving problems raised in Western virtue ethics theory.) ———. 2013. Confucius: A Guide for the Perplexed. London: Bloomsbury. (A deeply informed and insightful discussion of various topics in Confucian moral philosophy.) Ivanhoe, Philip J. 2016. Three Streams: Confucian Reflections on Learning & the Moral Heart-­ Mind in China, Korea and Japan. New York: Oxford University Press. (A masterful discussion of how Confucians in three countries reacted to Zhu Xi’s turn toward metaphysics in the centuries that followed him.) Kim, Yung Sik. 2015. “Zhu Xi on Scientific and Occult Subjects.” In Returning to Zhu Xi, edited by David Jones and Jinli He. Albany: State University of New York Press. (An introduction to the astonishing breadth of Zhu Xi’s intellectual agenda.) Klancer, Catherine H. 2015. Embracing Our Complexity: Zhu Xi and Thomas Aquinas on Power and the Common Good. Albany: State University of New York Press. Knapp, Keith. 2012. “Sympathy and Severity: The Father–Son Relationship in Early Medieval China.” Extrême-Orient Extrême-Occident Hors-série 2012: 113–136. (An exploration of the complex parent/child relationship in medieval China, as depicted in filial piety stories and their pictorial representations.) Kymlicka, Will. 1988. “Liberalism and Communitarianism.” Canadian Journal of Philosophy 18.2: 181–203. (A defense of liberal thought against communitarian challenges.) MacIntyre, Alasdair. 1988. Whose Justice? Which Rationality? London: Duckworth. (An exploration of different accounts of practical reasoning and rationality, and how to judge between them.) ———. 2007. After Virtue: A Study in Moral Theory. 3. Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press. (One of the most important texts in the revival of virtue ethics; challenges many liberal views of the self.) Makeham, John. 2003. Transmitters and Creators: Chinese Commentators and Commentaries on the Analects. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. (A magisterial work on both specific commentaries and the importance of the commentarial tradition as a whole.) Peng, Guoxiang 彭國翔. 2007. Confucian Tradition: Between Religion and Humanism 儒家傳統: 宗教與人文主義之間. Beijing 北京: Beijing daxue chuban she 北京大學出版社. Peng, Guoxiang. 2015. “Spiritual and Bodily Exercise: The Religious Significance of Zhu Xi’s Reading Methods.” Translated by Daniel Coyle and Yahui Anita Huang. In Returning to Zhu Xi, edited by David Jones and Jinli He. Albany: State University of New York Press. (A thoughtful discussion of Zhu’s teachings regarding the importance of reading the Confucian classics in a spirit of lectio divina.) Rawls, John. 1999. A Theory of Justice. Revised ed. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. (A landmark work of political and ethical philosophy that inspired debate and challenge from libertarian and communitarian thinkers alike.) Robinson, Marilynne. 2012. “Freedom of Thought.” In When I Was a Child I Read Books, edited by Marilynne Robinson. New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux. (A collection of essays on various contemporary topics.) Rosemont, Henry, Jr. 2012. A Reader’s Companion to the Confucian Analects. Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press. (A valuable guide to understanding the philosophy and the ethics of the Analects.) ———. 2015. Against Individualism: A Confucian Rethinking of the Foundations of Morality, Politics, and Religion. Lanham: Lexington Books. (A thought-provoking exploration of the human self from a Confucian perspective.) Sandel, Michael. 1996. Democracy’s Discontent: America in Search of a Public Philosophy. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. (A critique of the diminished sense of community and citizenship in the United States.)

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———. 1998. Liberalism and the Limits of Justice. 2. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. (A criticism of the thought of John Rawls and others that helped to start the liberal/communitarian debate.) ———. 2017. “Harvard University’s JUSTICE with Michael Sandel.” Harvard University. Accessed 28 Aug 2017. http://justiceharvard.org/justicecourse/. (A gateway to Sandel’s absorbing and demanding course on justice.) Spencer, Herbert. 1896. The Study of Sociology. New York: D. Appleton and Company. (A work exploring the role of society and culture, as opposed to that of the individual, in human history.) Stalnaker, Aaron. 2016. “Dreaming of a Meritocracy.” Paper presented to the American Academy of Religion Annual Conference, San Antonio, TX, November 22, 2016. (A study of the political and pragmatic realism of ancient Confucian philosophers.) Taylor, Charles. 1992. Sources of the Self. Reprint edition. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. (An attempt to articulate and write a history of the modern identity, particularly in the West.) Thompson, Kirill O. 2007. “The Archery of Wisdom in the Stream of Life.” Philosophy East and West, 57.3: 330–344. (An exploration of the innovative and critical elements of Confucian wisdom.) Tu, Weiming. 1998. “Epilogue.” In Confucianism and Human Rights, edited by Wm. Theodore de Bary and Tu Weiming. New York: Columbia University Press. (A thoughtful reflection on what Confucian thought has to offer to Western liberalism.) Van Norden, Bryan. 2007. Virtue Ethics and Consequentialism in Early Chinese Philosophy. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. (An analysis of Confucianism as a virtue ethics, and Mohism as a consequentialist, tradition.) Xunzi 荀子. 1996. Xunzi 荀子. http://sangle.web.wesleyan.edu/etext/, Chinese Philosophical E-Text Archive— Pre-Qin Texts. http://sangle.web.wesleyan.edu/etext/pre-qin/xunzi.html. (The works of the ancient Confucian master Xunzi.) Yang, Zhiyi. 2012. “Zhu Xi as Poet.” Journal of the American Oriental Society 132.4: 587–611. (A thoughtful engagement with Zhu’s literary theory and poetic output.) Zheng, Shizhong. 2016. Zhu Xi and Meister Eckhart: Two Intellectual Profiles. Leuven: Peeters. (A comparison of Zhu Xi and Meister Eckhart that draws attention to the role their engagement with the scriptural texts of their respective traditions plays in their thought.) Zhu, Xi. 1991. Chu Hsi’s Family Rituals: A Twelfth Century Chinese Manual for the Performance of Cappings, Weddings, Funerals and Ancestral Rites. Translated and edited by Patricia Buckley Ebrey. Princeton: Princeton University Press. (A very helpful English edition of the Zhuzi Jiali.) Zhu, Xi 朱熹. 2002. The Entire Works of Zhu Xi 朱子全書. 27 vols. Shanghai 上海: Shanghai guji chubanshe 上海古籍出版社. (A collection of all of Zhu’s formal writings, including his commentary on the Analects and the Jinsilu, as well as his Yulei.) Catherine Hudak Klancer is a senior lecturer at the Core Curriculum and the Religion Department at Boston University. Her research interests are in the areas of comparative religious ethics, Confucian pedagogy, and the intersection of religion and politics.  

Chapter 36

Zhu Xi’s Normative Realism and Internal Moral Realism JeeLoo Liu

1 Introduction The debate between realism and anti-realism takes the center stage in contemporary metaphysics. The debate is not merely about what truly exists, but also about whether the thing’s existence is dependent on human perception or conception. According to the realist, the world has some facts of the matter that the mind can discover and verify. Statements about these facts have definitive truth-values, which do not alter from one perspective to the next or from one conceptual scheme to another. According to the anti-realist, however, the world is nothing but the projection, interpretation, and construction of the mind. There is no world existing independently of us because there is no such thing as a view without a viewer. The realism/anti-realism debate can proceed at various levels: on the global level, the debate can be about the existence and the nature of the world itself. On the local levels, there are debates on scientific realism, moral realism, aesthetic realism, mathematical realism, and so on and so forth. Within each local debate, realism is the claim that “an object has objective existence, in some sense, if it exists and has its nature whatever we believe, think, or can discover; it is independent of the cognitive activities of the mind” (Miller 2016). In other words, the two dimensions in which the debate takes place concerns existence and independence. In the characterization of Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy, “realism” is defined as follows: [Generic Realism] a, b, and c and so on exist, and the fact that they exist and have properties such as F-ness, G-ness, and H-ness is (apart from mundane empirical dependencies of the sort sometimes

J. Liu (*) Department of Philosophy, California State University, Fullerton, Fullerton, CA, USA e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2020 K.-c. Ng, Y. Huang (eds.), Dao Companion to ZHU Xi’s Philosophy, Dao Companions to Chinese Philosophy 13, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-29175-4_36

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encountered in everyday life) independent of anyone’s beliefs, linguistic practices, conceptual schemes, and so on. (Miller 2016)

According to this definition, realism about a category of objects is committed to the objective existence of these objects and their properties. By “objective,” realists typically mean response-independence or opinion-independence. That is to say, the existence and nature of things do not depend on human conception. This chapter construes Zhu Xi’s metaphysics as a form of normative realism— the view that certain normative principles are fact-based and certain normative truths are objective truths about the world, rather than merely human constructions or projections. This particular form of realism is a local issue particularly concerned with the existence and independence of the law of nature or the paradigms of things as norms. Under normative realism, statements about these normative truths have truth conditions that are independent of human opinions and not restricted to human verifiability. There are norms in nature that define the nature of things, and these norms are independent of anyone’s beliefs, linguistic practices, conceptual schemes. This construal of Zhu Xi’s metaphysics is derived from Zhu Xi’s notion of principle (li 理) as “what makes it so (suoyiran 所以然).” According to Zhu Xi, “Everything in the world must all have the foundation that makes it so (suoyiran zhigu 所以然之故), and the rules that define what it ought to be (suodangran zhize 所當然之則). This is the so-called ‘li’” (Zhu 2002, vol. 4: 512). By a contemporary scholar Zhang Dainian’s 張岱年 (1909–2004) analysis, the former depicts laws of nature (ziran guilü 自然規律) while the latter denotes moral standards (daode zhunze 道德準則). “What Zhu Xi means by li has both the connotation of natural laws and the connotation of moral principles, and li also serves as the foundation of the world” (Zhang 1989: 43, cited in Le 2016: 14). This analysis serves as the groundwork for this chapter’s treatment of two different but related kinds of realism in Zhu Xi. The first notion of principle is used in the context of “the principle of things (wuzhili 物之理)” or “the principle of qi (qizhili 氣之理). On the basis of this notion, this chapter interprets Zhu Xi’s view as normative realism. On the basis of the second connotation of Zhu Xi’s notion of li, this chapter also presents his moral philosophy as internal moral realism. The debate between moral realism and anti-realism is a dominant theme in contemporary metaethics. Moral realism, in contemporary terms, is a theory about the ontological and epistemic status of moral facts, moral properties, and moral judgments. In its generic form, it shares the two basic claims of generic realism: (1) existence: there are moral facts and moral properties; (2) independence: moral truths are objective in the sense that they are independent of personal or interpersonal (collective) opinions. The key notion here is objectivity: in what sense could moral judgments be objective since moral judgments are undoubtedly human judgments? Moral anti-realism takes many forms and denies the existence of moral facts or the objectivity of moral judgments in varying degrees. On the far extreme, moral anti-realism is a form of moral irrealism or error theory, denying the existence of moral facts and moral properties, or the truth-aptness of moral judgments. Similarly, some radical anti-realists are also moral constructivists, arguing that morality is fundamentally a human con-

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struct. To a lesser degree, moral anti-realism could also be a form of moral skepticism, denying the possibility of ever knowing or verifying moral truths. Some anti-realists embrace moral relativism, advocating the view that there is no absolute moral truth, since moral truths are relative to perspectives and evidence. Some anti-­ realists, at the other end of the spectrum, actually proclaim to be moral realists, in that they identify objectivity with intersubjectivity—humans’ universally shared opinion achieves the status of objectivity. It is arguable, however, whether intersubjectivity is sufficient to establish objectivity, because under such a view, moral truths are determined by human opinions and are thus response-dependent. Zhu Xi was undoubtedly committed to a robust form of moral realism, and his moral realism embraces both the existence and the independence dimensions of moral principle. In contrast to his normative realism which ascribes opinion-­ independent norms in all things, his moral realism is particularly concerned with the fact of human goodness and the objectivity of moral standards for human conduct. Whereas the previous notion of principle places norms in external things, this notion of principle traces human goodness internally within human mind as part of human nature. It is with this notion of principle in mind that Zhu Xi declared: Human nature is principle (xingjili 性即理). Since the root of goodness and various forms of human virtues is taken to be inherent in human mind, and not from social conditioning, we shall characterize this view as internal moral realism. A major goal of this chapter is to reconcile the apparent contradiction between Zhu Xi’s normative realism, which places principles in particular things themselves, and Zhu Xi’s internal moral realism, which locates moral principles within human mind. Highlighting Zhu Xi’s theory of humaneness (ren 仁), this chapter will explicate Zhu Xi’s moral metaphysics as the unification of fact and value. This very unification of fact and value constitutes the essence of Confucianism, and Zhu Xi’s moral metaphysics adds philosophical sophistication to this Confucian worldview.

2 Zhu Xi’s Normative Realism of Li Building on Cheng Yi’s 程頤 thesis “Principle is one but its manifestations are many (liyiwanshu 理一萬殊),” Zhu Xi constructed a sophisticated interpretation of the role of the one Principle in the universe—it is permanent, complete, and independent of human conception.1 The material world in which we are situated cannot exist without Principle—the world could not even have come into existence without Principle. Furthermore, Heavenly Principle (tianli 天理) and its myriad manifestations in particular things define the norms for the world’s existence. Principles in particular things represent the optimal form for each kind of things’ existence as

 When li is used to denote a single principle of the universe, the word “principle” is capitalized in this chapter to highlight its uniqueness. 1

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well as the ideal way of one’s interacting with the thing. As Zhu Xi put it, “Everything one encounters and deals with is a thing (wu 物), and everything has its optimal principle (jizhi zhili 極至之理) that one ought to investigate” (Zhu 2002, vol. 14: 461). Humans’ role is to grasp the principles in particular things and work to ensure that each thing fits its ultimate principle. In other words, principles in particular things represent the norms both for the thing’s existence and for humans’ interaction with the thing. In Zhu Xi’s worldview, nature precedes human effort while human effort completes nature’s order. According to Zhu Xi, the existence dimension of principle is beyond dispute. Principle is what makes things’ existence possible, principle is “what makes it so (suoyiran 所以然)” for each thing. This “making it so” could be taken either as the cause or as the substance for a thing’s existence.2 Taking principle in the sense of cause, we know that if the effect is real, then the cause must be real too. Taking principle in the sense of substance, we also know that the function, in this case the world, is simply the manifestation of the substance. The world is real; hence, principle either as its cause or as its substance must also be real.3 Zhu Xi says, Before heaven and earth existed, there was after all only principle. As there is this principle, therefore there are heaven and earth. If there were no principle, there would also be no heaven and earth, no man, no things, and in fact, no containing or sustaining (of things by heaven and earth) to speak of. As there is principle, there is therefore [qi 氣] to operate everywhere, and nourish and develop all things. (Zhu 1986: [1] 1; Chan 1963: 635)

Whereas for Cheng Yi, principle has primarily the sense of serving as the ontological foundation for all things, Zhu Xi’s principle also has a normative sense. Principle in Zhu Xi’s schematism serves two functions: one as the ontological foundation for all things, which he calls “what makes it so (suoyiran 所以然)”; the other as the normative principle for the ideal state of the thing’s existence, which he calls “what ought to be (dangran 所當然).” According to a contemporary scholar Meng Peiyuan 蒙培元, Zhu Xi uses these two concepts, suoyiran and suodangran, to express the difference between fact and value: what makes it so and what ought to be. Meng argues, “what makes it so” belongs to the dimension of fact, since “whether a thing is square or round, is a boat or a carriage, all has its principle of what makes it so. This concerns only fact; it has nothing to do with humans’ attitude of good and bad and does not involve human desire or need”4 (Meng 2005: 4). “What ought to be,” on the other hand, belongs to the dimension of value. It signifies what is permissible and impermissible according to Heavenly principle and is  This distinction could perhaps be compared to Aristotle’s distinction between “the efficient cause” and “formal cause.” The former is the primary source of a thing’s coming into existence while the latter is the form or the blueprint of the thing. Both of these are covered under the first sense of principle as “what makes it so (suoyiran 所以然).” The second sense of principle, what ought to be (dangran 所當然), can be compared to Aristotle’s notion of “the final cause.” A careful comparative study is beyond the scope of this chapter. 3  Later in this chapter, we shall see that Zhu Xi treats principle more as the substance (ti 體) than as the cause of the world. 4  The original text is in Chinese. All translations of this text are my own. 2

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obviously in the category of norm and value. Meng suggests that this concerns human will and desire, is therefore not related to fact itself (Meng 2005: 4). Meng argues that Zhu Xi did not set up a dichotomy between the two, as what is typically done in Western philosophical tradition; rather, Zhu Xi unified the two dimensions, and this is the characteristic of his philosophical stance (Meng 2005: 1). Zhu Xi’s conjoining the two connotations under the same concept ‘principle’ represents his attempt to eliminate the supposed gulf between fact and value. According to Meng, before Zhu Xi, there had never been any definitive language to analyze the connection between fact and value in Confucianism. We can analyze Zhu Xi’s position on fact and value in terms of his view on the connection between the One and the Many. Zhu Xi embraced Cheng Yi’s view that there is a close connection between the universal Principle that is the One, and the particular principles in the myriad things. The clear distinction between the One and the Many, in Zhu Xi’s conception, lies in the normative duties of man for the myriad things. He says, “[Cheng Yi] says it well: ‘Principle is One but the dues (fen 分) are multifarious (Liyifenshu 理一分殊).’5 When heaven, earth, and the myriad things are spoken of together, there is only one principle. As applied to man, however, there is in each individual a particular principle” (Zhu 1986: [1] 2; Chan 1963: 635, emphasis added). In this passage, Zhu Xi points out that particular principles are principles “applied to humans” even though in things themselves, there is only one Principle. In other words, particular principles instantiate not only the norm for the things’ optimal existence, but also the norm for our treatment of particular things. Each particular kind of thing has a different norm and requires our different treatment in order to actualize its norm. Hence, applied to man there are multiple principles. Zhu Xi says, “To investigate principle to the utmost means to seek to know the reason for which things and affairs are as they are and the reason according to which they should be, that is all. If we know why they are as they are, our will would not be perplexed, and if we know what they should be, our action would not be wrong”  This phrase has frequently been misinterpreted and conflated with “Principle is one but its manifestations are many (liyiwanshu 理一萬殊).” The Chinese word is fen, in the falling tone. The same word also has a first tone reading, in which case it means “divide” or “apart.” This is why there has been such a widespread conflation with the other phrase. Once we see the phrase in its context, its meaning becomes clear. A supporting evidence for my reading is another comment made by Cheng Yi: “The principles of all things are already self-sufficient, and yet one often cannot fulfill one’s due (fen 分) in the interactions between the emperor and the subject or between a father and a son” (Cheng and Cheng 1981: 1267). In this quote, the word “fen” is clearly used as due or obligation. However, Chan Wing-tsit thinks that even when the word is pronounced in the falling tone, it should still be translated as “manifestations.” He says, “The term fen is not to be pronounced in the upper even tone, meaning to divide. This misunderstanding had led to such a wrong translation as ‘distinction.’ Rather it is pronounced in the falling tone, meaning duty, share, endowment. Philosophically, it means principle or material force endowed in an individual person or thing, that is, the universal embodied in the particular partially or completely. Hence the translation “manifestation” here” (Chan 1978: 106). I think his explanation does not fit the passage in Cheng Yi’s discussion on Zhang Zai’s Western Inscriptions. It does not sufficiently separate the ethical from the ontological issue of principle. 5

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(Chan 1963: 611, slightly modified). In this passage, Zhu Xi clearly relates the project of the investigation of things to the pursuit of moral cultivation. According to Chan Wing-tsit, for Zhu Xi as well as for other neo-Confucians, the i­ nvestigation of things does not employ the scientific method of observation and reflection. “The result was that to ‘investigate things’ came to mean understanding right and wrong and handling human affair” (Chan 1963: 612). That is to say, the epistemic quest is at the same time a moral quest for Zhu Xi. We investigate things with the aim to understanding how we ought to act with regard to each kind of things. If myriad particular principles only arise in the realm of human action, is Zhu Xi denying the independence dimension of particular principles then? The answer is no. For Zhu Xi, even if particular principles are principles for human beings, they nonetheless have objectivity that is independent of human conception. Building on Mencius’ view of a normative kind, Zhu Xi declares the normative sense of “nature” unequivocally: “The nature [of everything] is principle; it is the principle of what ought to be (dangran zhi li 當然之理). In this sense, there is nothing in the nature that is not good” (Zhu 2002, vol. 14: 196). What he claims here is that a particular thing’s nature is what the thing ought to become. Human nature is good, not in the sense that we are guaranteed to be free from wrongdoing, but in the sense that we all ought to be good. As defined in the Doctrine of the Mean (Zhongyong 中庸), which Zhu Xi endorses, this ought-to-ness comes from Heaven’s Mandate (tianming 天命); in other words, it is our inborn obligation or our assigned role in the universe. While the origin of this normative regulation of ought-to-ness is objective and external to us, it is at the same time inherent in our very existence. The standard of right and wrong is embedded in our nature, but it is not invented or constructed by us. From the investigation of things, we achieve the extension of knowledge. For Zhu Xi, the knowledge in question is moral knowledge—knowledge of how to conduct oneself. This is why he advocated exhaustive investigation of things: “From the most essential and most fundamental about oneself to every single thing or affair in the world, even the meaning of one word or half a word, everything should be investigated to the utmost, and none of it is unworthy of attention” (Chan 1963: 610). It is not because we wish to be a Renaissance person—knowing everything, capable of doing all traits—that we need to investigate all things. It is rather because our moral self is tested and reaffirmed in our daily encounter of all states of affairs, however trivial they might seem. If we truly know how to act with regard to everything in accordance with their intrinsic nature (their particular principles), then we would be not far from a sage. A challenge to this interpretation is to question whether Zhu Xi posits normative principles “outside of human mind,” and if so, then whether Zhu Xi’s moral philosophy could accommodate the notion of autonomy—humans as lawmakers and self-regulators. Meng Peiyuan, for example, suggests that if we take Zhu Xi to be an “objectivist,” then we encounter of problem of explaining who or what the “legislator” is. Since according to Zhu Xi, principles for action are not “outside the mind” and humans do have autonomy, we would be making a mistake to regard “principle” as law or rule (Meng 2005: 2). Here we encounter the dilemma of

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whether to treat Zhu Xi’s principle as internal, dependent on human mind, or objective, and independent of human mind. To settle this difficulty, we need to investigate in what sense principle is embedded in human nature, as Zhu Xi’s doctrine nature is principle (xingjili 性即理) entails.

3 Zhu Xi’s Internal Moral Realism Moral realism acknowledges the existence of moral facts and moral properties and considers them to be part of the fabric of the world. What is distinctive of moral realism is its claim of “response-independence”: the nature of moral facts and moral properties does not depend on human opinion and human response. A moral truth holds even if we cannot verify it, and its truth is not dependent on our acceptance. Moral facts are for us to discover, to investigate, to recognize as true, but this relationship is merely epistemic, not ontological. In other words, the status of moral truth does not rely on whether or not we accept it to be true. David Wong provides the following analysis of the possible claims of moral realism: 1. There are moral facts that obtain independently of human cognitive capacities and conceptual schemes. 2. There are moral facts that obtain independently of our ability to recognize them as obtaining. 3. A moral statement is true or false independently of our ability to recognize it as true or false. 4. A moral statement is true or false in virtue of its correspondence with the world (or roughly, it is true or false in virtue of its structure, referential relations between parts of its structure and parts of the world, and the nature of the world) (Wong 1986: 95). With these criteria, Zhu Xi’s moral theory would qualify as moral realism. Zhu Xi’s notion of Heavenly principle as well as particular principles in things depicts the moral facts in the world that “obtain independently of human cognitive capacities and conceptual schemes.” Their truth holds independently of our ability to recognize them as obtaining and our ability to recognize them as true, since most of us are in the process of learning to know Dao 道. The sage, on the other hand, would be able to recognize moral truths with their superior intellect and moral character. However, moral truth does not depend on the sage’s endorsement to be true, in that a moral statement “is true or false in virtue of its correspondence with the world”— in Zhu Xi’s as well as other neo-Confucians’ terminology, a moral statement is true when it coheres with Heavenly principle, which is an objective fact in the world. At the same time, Zhu Xi advocated Cheng Yi’s thesis that nature is principle— he believes in the natural endowment of humans’ moral essence. This is a metaphysical conviction of the reality of humans’ being moral creatures. Zhu Xi defines “human nature” in an a priori way—“What Heaven endows in all things is called

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destiny (ming 命); what things receive from Heaven is called nature. . . . Human nature and human destiny are meta-physical form (xingershang 形而上); qi is within physical form (xingerxia 形而下). What exists prior to physical form is the one harmonious and homogenous principle, which is invariably good. What exist after physical form are diverse and manifold, and therein lies the distinction between good and evil” (Zhu 2000: [67] 3386, emphasis added). In this exposition on human nature, Zhu Xi attributes the empirical differences in human good and human badness to the composition of qi, but he categorically affirms the a priori goodness in human existence, and he traces the foundation of human morality to the heavenly endowed human nature. Human nature is identified with Heavenly principle. Zhu Xi’s internalization of moral principle can be described as what Kai Marchal calls “moral inwardness” (Marchal 2013a), which means that the moral principle itself “transcends any social structure and is unrelated to particular actions and situations” (Marchal 2013b: 192). For Zhu Xi, the moral principle we humans must embrace as absolutely and objectively true is already internal to us—it is within our nature endowed by heaven. Zhu Xi embraced the view about the origin of human nature in the Doctrine of the Mean: “human nature is Heaven’s mandate,” as well as the view advocated in the Yijing: “what succeeds Dao is good (shan 善) and what completes Dao is nature (xing 性).” In answering a student’s question about the connection between principle and nature, Zhu Xi said, “When this principle is in heaven and earth, it is simply the good (shan 善). . . . It is only this principle, which is called ‘mandate’ in Heaven, and in humans it is called ‘nature’” (Zhu 2002, vol. 14: 216). Zhu Xi’s locating Heavenly principle in human nature demonstrates his realist commitment to both the moral principle itself and to our capacity to realize this moral principle. The universal presence of human nature provides the grounding for our intersubjectively shared core values, but as pointed out by moral anti-­ realists, sheer intersubjectivity does not by itself establish objectivity. Zhu Xi’s placing Heavenly principle within our nature is Zhu Xi’s version of moral realism that combines the objective with the intersubjective, and both of which are internalized in the agent’s inborn constitution—the agent’s moral selfhood. As Kai Marchal puts it, “for Zhu, morality is identical . . . with the sphere of the inner self” (Marchal 2013b: 199). Zhu Xi embraced classical Confucian moral metaphysics wholeheartedly and developed his theory of human nature on this basis. Since this moral reality is defined to be within human mind, we call this view internal moral realism. What Zhu Xi means by the innate goodness in human is the claim about the natural inclinations in humans to choose moral deeds. Along with Cheng Hao’s endorsement of Gaozi’s definition of “nature” as “what is inborn,” Zhu Xi likens human’s natural tendency to be good to water’s natural tendency to flow downward. He says, “From observing that water always flows downward, we know that the nature of water is to go downward. By the same token, from observing that the emanation of nature is always good, we know that nature involves goodness” (Zhu 2000: [67] 3386, cf. Chan 1963: 598). Using this analogy to water, Zhu Xi did not offer any empirical evidence for human nature’s emanation of goodness, as he did with the evidence of water’s natural flow. However, to him this is not an issue because he

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was not trying to establish an empirical claim about the goodness of human nature. His claim is metaphysical and a priori. Zhu Xi explicitly asserted that moral principle is real and is inherent in human nature. This is done through the deductive reasoning from the original state (ti 體) of the mind (xin 心) to the nature (xing 性) of human beings. According to Chan Wing-tsit, “Since [humaneness] is the character of the mind, it is the nature of every man, and as such, universal nature” (Chan 1963: 597). The explanatory deduction, however, is also based on Zhu Xi’s ontological conviction of the a priori foundation for human nature. Huang Chun-chieh 黃俊傑 cites the following passage in one of Zhu Xi’s essays: Human beings acquire the heart of Heaven and Earth to produce things as their own heart. It is exactly because human heart is the instantiation of the heart of Heaven and Earth, that the four virtues, humaneness, righteousness, propriety, and wisdom, are inherent in human mind even before their manifestations, and humaneness comprises them all. After their manifestations, the four moral sprouts (siduan 四端) become explicit and they are called [the heart of] commiseration, shame and disgust, reverence and compliance, and sense of right and wrong. The heart of commiseration penetrates them all. This is the original state (ti 體) and function (yong 用) of humaneness. This is how (suoyi 所以) humaneness can encompass all things, pervades everywhere, dominate the mind’s many marvels, and be the summit of all moral virtues (Zhu 2000: [77] 3867–69, cited in Huang 2017: 304).6

In this passage, Zhu Xi unifies the heart of Heaven and Earth and the heart of human, and seemingly giving it a causal explanation. However, Zhu Xi’s assertion is on the a priori rather than the a posteriori connection between the two. In other words, he is not presenting the makeup of human mind from an evolutionary point of view; rather, he is making a metaphysical assertion on the nature of human existence. According to Huang, the greatest contribution that Zhu Xi’s theory of humaneness makes is to “elevate the height as well as depth of human existence, bringing neo-Confucians’ pursuit of the ‘Greater Self (dawuo 大我)’ to the level of cosmology and ontology. . . . By treating humaneness as the principle of love, Zhu Xi transforms ‘humaneness’ from being an ethical value in the social network of interconnections among ‘self’ and ‘others,’ into being a transcendent principle that intersects the ‘self’ with the cosmos itself” (Huang 2017: 306). Even though this analysis is a bit too dense to unpack, we can sum up Huang’s main thesis this way: Whereas for early Confucians such as Mencius and Han–Tang Confucians, humaneness is defined in terms of love (cf. Huang 2017: 138–49), for Zhu Xi, humaneness is a moral principle that derives its objectivity from the way the world is—the normativity exemplified in Heaven and Earth. At the same time, this moral principle of humaneness constitutes the essence of human existence. It prescribes what humans ought to do and ought to become. Therefore, the very principle of humaneness regulates both the cosmos and the self. Huang introduces many Japanese scholars’ criticisms of Zhu Xi’s definition of “humaneness.” Their general view is that Zhu Xi deviated from the traditional Confucian view of treating humaneness as the sentiment of loving people and as the character (de 德) of the mind. They think that Zhu  The original text is in Chinese. All translations of this text are my own.

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Xi’s error was in locating humaneness in human nature rather than in human mind. According to Huang, this kind of criticism misses exactly what Zhu Xi aims to accomplish—to find a metaphysical foundation for the innate goodness of human beings, and to ground the normative duty of humaneness in the facts of nature. Chan Wing-tsit argues that Zhu Xi was the first among neo-Confucians to expound on the relationship between substance and function of humaneness (ren). Chan takes the substance of humaneness to be human nature, and he views love as the function of humaneness. He says, “In ignoring the nature of [humaneness (ren)] and confining his teachings only to its practice, Confucius taught only the function of [ren]. . . . In interpreting [ren] as love, Han Confucians viewed it almost exclusively from the point of view of function. Early Neo-Confucians, on the other hand, . . . viewed [ren] almost exclusively from the point of view of substance. Here [Zhu Xi] gives substance and function equal importance, as they are synthesized neatly in the saying [ren] is the character of the mind and the principle of love” (Chan 1963: 596–97; cited in Chan 1978: 119). In Chan’s assessment, Zhu Xi’s contribution to the discourse on humaneness (ren) was to unify nature and emotion in the form of substance and function. We can see that since Zhu Xi treats humaneness as the substance of human emotion, he takes human emotion to be the manifestation of humans’ moral essence (xing). In other words, human emotion is not the source of evil. Zhu Xi’s theory of emotion follows that of the Doctrine of the Mean, establishing equilibrium (he 和) and moderation (zhongjie 中節) of human emotions such as pleasure, anger, sorrow, and joy as the normative state that is the truthful manifestation of human nature. As Zhu Xi sees it, there is a deductive connection between the way the world is and the way we are: Heaven and Earth possess the heart to produce things, and when human beings were born, they inherited the heart of Heaven and Earth as their heart.7 We can explain in more detail. The moral qualities of Heaven and Earth are four: origination (yuan 元), advancement (heng 亨), enrichment (li 利), and perseverance (zhen 貞). Of these, the principle of origination unites and controls them all. In their operation, they constitute the course of the four seasons, and the qi of spring permeates all. Therefore, in the mind of man there are also four moral qualities—humaneness (ren 仁), righteousness (yi 義), propriety (li 禮) and wisdom (zhi 智)—and humaneness encompasses all. In their emanation and function, these moral qualities in men constitute the feelings of love, reverence, appropriateness, and discernment—and the heart of commiseration penetrates them all.” (Zhu 2002, vol. 23: 3280, under A Treatise on Ren; cf. Chan 1963: 594, italics added)

In this passage, the most crucial word is therefore (gu 故). Is Zhu Xi offering a causal or deductive explanation of the connection between the heart of Heaven and Earth and the heart of human? In Zhu Xi’s metaphysics, the connection between these two is actually both causal and deductive. Humans are produced by the heart  In the context of discourse on neo-Confucianism, contemporary scholars commonly adopt an inelegant translation of ‘xin’ as heart-mind. In this chapter, the word will be translated as either “heart” or “mind” as most appropriate to the text, but not in conjunction. A new translation suggested by Chad Meyers is “affective mind.” I think it is much preferable to the awkwardly coined “heart-mind.” 7

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of Heaven and Earth; that is to say, human beings are part of nature in an organic rather than a mechanic way. This production theory is anti-reductivist and ­non-­physicalistic; that is to say, the causation is not reduced to the micro-level physical entities as contemporary reductionism and physicalism conceive it. Heaven and Earth are depicted as having the heart to produce things, possessing moral attributes, and so on, as if they were the sentient creators of all things. However, this would be a wrong way to interpret Zhu Xi’s moral metaphysics. His emphasis is on humans’ role as moral agents who have the mission—“the Mandate of Heaven (tianming 天命)”—to assist other living things in their fulfillment. Heaven and earth are humane in the sense that they jointly produce things. Zhu Xi clarified what he meant by “the heart of Heaven and Earth” this way: “Heaven and Earth have no mind of their own. It is like this. The four seasons run their course and the various things flourish. When do Heaven and Earth entertain any mind of their own? As to the sage, he only follows principle. What action does he need to take?” (Chan 1963: 643). At the same time, he stresses that humans’ mission has an objective grounding: Heaven and Earth. Zhu Xi says, “Humaneness is nothing but the heart of men,” and then explains, “The Dao of humaneness is simply that the heart of Heaven and Earth to produce things is immanent in all things” (Zhu 2002, vol. 23: 3280, under A Treatise on Ren). With this comment, Zhu Xi elevates Mencius’ assertion of the inborn and instinctive heart of commiseration to a metaphysical thesis of humans’ necessary moral obligation. He further explains that humaneness is nothing but the principle of life itself. He says, “Take for example such things as seeds of grain or the peach and apricot kernels. When sown, they will grow. They are not dead things. For this reason they are called ren (the word ren 仁 means both kernel and humaneness). This shows that humaneness implies the spirit of life” (Zhu 1986: [3] 113; modification of Chan 1963: 633). This passage demonstrates that Zhu Xi’s notion of humaneness is closely related to the principle of life that dominates the world of nature. This is the key point that connects fact and value in his moral metaphysics. Zhu Xi’s teaching of humaneness differs from Mencius’ heart of commiseration (ceyinzhixin 惻隱之心) in that he was not a sentimentalist as Mencius was. Commiseration is a sentiment that can be triggered under suitable conditions, as Mencius illustrated in his example of seeing a child about to fall into a well. To be humane, on the other hand, does not rely on feeling or emotion, and is not a sentiment that can be on or off at times. As Zhu Xi puts it, “Before feelings are aroused, the original state (ti 體) is already present; after the feelings are aroused, its function (yong 用) can be inexhaustible (Zhu 2002, vol. 23: 3280, under A Treatise on Ren). To maintain the mind’s original state (ti 體) of humaneness, according to Zhu Xi, one must “overcome and eliminate one’s selfishness and return to Heavenly principle” (ibid.). This is the unification of the heart of human and the principle of heaven. In Zhu Xi’s assessment, humaneness is the source of all values and the foundation of all good deeds. In nature (heaven and earth), the virtue of humaneness is exemplified in the fact of the continual generation of life after life, things after things. In human beings, the virtue of humaneness is realized in the intent to love other people (airen 愛人) with warmness and to assist other things in their fulfillment (liwu 利 物) (ibid.). Zhu Xi defended Cheng Yi’s separation between humaneness and love,

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even though by his own definition, “humaneness” includes love of others. He explained that what Cheng Yi rejected was the identification of the expression of love with humaneness, while what he advocated was the identification of the principle of love with humaneness (ibid.). This is another proof that Zhu Xi was not a sentimentalist, since the expression of love is simply the expression of a feeling or a sentiment. The principle of love, on the other hand, expresses the normativity of humaneness. One ought to be humane since this is what the principle of ought-to-be (suodangran 所當然) dictates. Humaneness is not a psychological state and does not depend on the individual’s subjective awareness (jue 覺) or “the mind’s possession of consciousness (zhijue 知覺)” (Chan’s translation, Chan 1963: 596). According to Zhu Xi’s Diagram of the Treatise on Ren (Zhu 2002, vol. 17: 3455, under Renshuotu 仁說圖), humaneness (ren) is the heart of heaven and earth to produce things (shengwu zhi xin 生物之心), which human beings inherit to have as the faculty of the mind (xin). Humaneness is the fundamental state (ti 體) of human mind. Since the role of the mind is to command both nature and emotion, humaneness becomes an inborn commandment to act in accordance with the heart of heaven and earth. Therefore, the ideal (the sagely) state of humaneness is the consistent practice of “conferring extensive benefit on the people and bringing salvation to all” (Analects 6.28. In Zhu Xi’s A Treatise on Ren; Chan 1963: 596). In addition to humaneness, which is a natural virtue exemplified in nature, Zhu Xi also includes in human nature such social virtues as the Three Bonds (sangang 三綱) and the Five Constant Virtues (wuchang 五常). The Three Bonds depict the normative relationships between ruler and minister, between father and son, and between husband and wife, whereas the Five Constant Virtues are: righteousness of a father, love of a mother, brotherliness of an elder brother, respect of a younger brother, and filial piety (Chan 1963: 614). If these virtues are social virtues, developed in societal relationships, then how could they be part of human’s inborn nature? Zhu Xi explains, “When ancient sages and worthies spoke of nature and destiny, they always spoke of them in relation to actual living. For example, when they spoke of the full development of human nature, they mean the complete realization of the moral principles of the Three Bonds and the Five Constant Virtues” (Chan 1963: 614). In this comment, Zhu Xi may have laid the seed for the famous developmental thesis of human nature by Wang Fuzhi 王夫之 (1619–1692) five hundred years later: the daily renewal and daily completion of human nature. Even though Zhu Xi takes human nature to be an inborn character (de 德) or the original state (ti 體) of human mind, he does not confine either nature or mind to a pre-­ civilization, pre-education, or pre-cognitive infant mind. The moral accomplishments that human mind can obtain in “actual living” are made possible by the natural as well as social virtues embedded in human nature. This conviction is the crux of Zhu Xi’s internal moral realism.

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4 The Compatibility Between Zhu Xi’s Normative Realism and Internal Moral Realism Finally, we must examine whether Zhu Xi’s normative realism and his internal moral realism are truly compatible with each other. The issue to be addressed is whether principle is in the things as normative realism asserts, or in the mind as internal moral realism confirms. On the surface, the two views seem to contradict each other. According to Zhu Xi, principles of things are in the things themselves. He says, “The principle of thing is, of course, inherent in their nature” (Chan 1963: 619). At the same time, he also says, “These principles inherent in the mind are what we call nature” (Chan 1963: 642). “It is not true that outside of the mind there is principle, or that outside of principle there is a mind” (Chan 1963: 620). If principles are in the things themselves, and we ought to act towards things in accordance with their principles, then it seems that normativity is external to us and we are regulated by objective external laws. At the same time, if Zhu Xi advocates autonomy in moral agency, and puts principle within human mind itself, then it seems that moral principle is indeed internal to us. Here we seem to derive a contradiction in Zhu Xi’s metaphysics and ethics. According to Meng Peiyuan, the way to resolve the apparent contradiction is to separate the ontological issue from the epistemic one. On the epistemic level, there is the separation of the knower and the known, the subject and the object. Zhu Xi’s theory of investigation of things places particular principles external to the mind, since these principles are objectively in things themselves. On the ontological level, at the same time, the normative principle is embedded in human nature. The principle in human nature ensures that we are naturally inclined to do what we ought to do, and what we ought to do conforms to how things naturally are. Hence, “principle of things (wuzhili 物之理 or shizhili 事之理)” is external, while “principle of nature (xingzhili 性之理)” is internal. Meng explains that this is the way Zhu Xi combines the principle that is what makes it so (suoyiran 所以然) and the principle that is what ought to be (suodangran 所當然). Insofar as principle is what makes life possible with objective value, Zhu Xi’s moral philosophy advocates regulation from without (talü 他律). Insofar as principle is within human nature and fulfilled by human mind, Zhu Xi’s moral philosophy underscores self-regulation (zilü 自律) (cf. Meng 2005: 4–5). To Zhu Xi, however, principle of things and principle of nature are one and the same. He says, “Things and the principle [inherent] in my mind are fundamentally one. Neither is deficient in any degree. What is necessary is for me to respond to things. Things and the mind share the same principle” (Chan 1963: 608). Zhu Xi also identifies Dao with human nature: “Dao is identical with the nature of men and things, and the nature is identical with Dao. They are one and the same, but we must understand in what connection it is called the nature and in what connection it is called Dao” (Chan 1963: 614, slightly modified). With Cheng Yi’s assertion that human nature is principle, Zhu Xi explains, “In relation to the mind, it is called the nature. In relation to events, it is called principle” (Chan 1963: 614). When asked

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whether all the particular principles one investigates in things will eventually converge on one point, Zhu Xi replied, “There is no need to talk about the converging point. All that is before our eyes is things and affairs. Just investigate one item after another somehow until the utmost is reached. As more and more is done, one will naturally achieve a far and wide penetration. That which serves as the converging point is the mind” (Chan 1963: 610, emphasis added). In other words, Zhu Xi takes human mind to be the agency that comprehends and unifies particular principles into the one comprehensive Heavenly principle or Dao. When human mind can achieve this cognitive ascent and moral elevation, it is the unification of heaven and men (tianrenheyi 天人合一). This unification is not “human-dependent” or “response-dependent,” since the ultimate justification for human morality comes from facts of nature, the fabric of the world. Therefore, the way to reconcile whether principle is outside of or internal to the mind is to consider them as two sides of the same coin: the particular principles in things dictate how men ought to act toward things; the moral principles within human mind provides the foundation for humans’ compliance. In other words, it is because humans possess moral principle in the mind that humans would naturally comply with the principles of particular things. For example, from studying the principle of plants we learn when is best to water or to fertilize, but it is also because within our mind we follow the commandment to be humane—to cultivate life of all forms and to foster growth and maturation—that we would act as best as we have learned. The moral commandment of being humane is internal to us, and yet how to be humane with respect to each particular kind of things depends on the nature/ principle of things, which is external to us. We are autonomous moral agents, but we need to investigate external principles in things in order to fulfil our moral essence of being humane. Principle in the mind provides the reason why particular principles are the aims of human’s moral and intellectual pursuit. As Zhu Xi puts it, “The nature consists of concrete principle, complete with humanity, righteousness, propriety, and wisdom” (Chan 1963: 614). These inborn virtues provide the metaphysical grounding for human’s cognitive ascent and moral completion.

5 Conclusion In this chapter, we examine Zhu Xi’s commitment to realism on two levels: normatively, principles are independent of human mind as they are facts of nature; morally, Principle is embedded in human mind as its moral essence, and it dictates the values that should hold for all human beings. Meng Peiyuan puts the spirit of Chinese philosophy as the integration of value and fact and makes an apt contrast against Western philosophy. He says, Chinese philosophy acknowledges the “internal value” in Nature itself, and the highest value is the principle of life (shengdao 生道 or shengli 生理), so it is called “the virtue of heaven (tiande 天德).” Western philosophy, in contrast, generally denies any internal value in Nature, and regards all values as humans’ attribution. Chinese philosophy regards human

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as the virtuous agent that fulfills the virtue of heaven; i.e., the principle of life, having obligations and missions towards nature. In Western philosophy, on the other hand, human is the epistemic agent who cognizes and reforms nature, without having any obligation toward Nature. (Meng 2005: 9, emphasis added)

This description, though too general in its depiction of Chinese and Western philosophy, does highlight an important aspect of Zhu Xi’s metaphysics and moral philosophy. In Zhu Xi’s worldview, metaphysics and ethics cannot be separated. Humans reside in a moral universe; hence, the foundation of moral value lies in Heaven and Earth, in Nature, and in all particular things. At the same time, humans are moral creatures themselves; hence, the foundation of moral value is also internal to human existence. Zhu Xi inherits the traditional Confucian view in the Book of Change (Yijing 易經) that Heaven, Earth, and human are the “Three Capacities” (sancai 三才), and the moral duty of human is to fulfill what Heaven and Earth have started: the creation and sustenance of life (shengsheng 生生). This principle of life is the dominant principle of nature, and it serves as the moral precept for human beings.

References Chan, Wing-tsit. 1963. A Source Book in Chinese Philosophy. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. ———. 1978. “Patterns for Neo-Confucianism: Why Chu Hsi Differed from Cheng I.” Journal of Chinese Philosophy 5: 101–126. Cheng, Hao 程顥, and Cheng Yi 程頤. 1981. Collected Works of the Two Cheng Brothers 二程集. 4 vols. Beijing 北京: Zhonghua Shuju Chubanshe 中華書局出版社. Huang, Chun-chieh (Huang, Junjie) 黃俊傑. 2017. A History of Discourses on Humanity in East Asian Confucianism 東亞儒家仁學史論. Taipei 臺北: National Taiwan University Press 國立 臺灣大學出版中心. (A detailed analysis on the notion of ren in Confucianism, and the analysis is helpful in placing Zhu Xi’s view on ren in historical contexts.) Le, Aiguo 樂愛國. 2016. “The ‘Principle’ of Zhu Xi: ‘What Makes Things So’ or ‘How Things Ought to Be—Focusing on the Views of Li Xiangxian and Tang Junyi 朱熹的「理」:「所以 然」還是「所當然」——以李相顯、唐君毅的觀點為中心.” Journal of Sichuan University (Social Science Edition) 四川大學學報(哲學社會科學版) 2: 14–21. Marchal, Kai. 2013a. “The Virtues, Moral Inwardness, and the Challenge of Modernity.” Dao: A Journal of Comparative Philosophy 12.3: 369–380. (This paper highlights the internalism aspect of Zhu Xi’s virtue ethics.) ———. 2013b. “The Virtues of Justice in Zhu Xi.” In Stephen C. Angle and Michael Slote eds., Virtue Ethics and Confucianism (192–200). New York: Routledge. Meng, Peiyuan 蒙培元. 2005. “How to Unify What Makes It so and What Ought to Be—from Zhu Xi’s Solution of the Problem of Fact and Value to Examine the Differences and Similarities between Chinese and Western Philosophy 「所以然」與「所當然」如何統—從朱子對存 在與價值問題的解決看中西哲學的異同.” Journal of Quanzhou Normal University 泉州師 範學院學報 23.1: 1–11. (An insightful paper that takes a comparative approach to Zhu Xi’s philosophy.) Miller, Alexander. 2016. “Realism.” In Edward N.  Zalta. ed., The Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy (Winter 2016 edition), https://plato.stanford.edu/archives/win2016/entries/realism/. (A reliable survey on various versions of realism in the West.)

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Wong, David. 1986. “On Moral Realism Without Foundations.” Southern Journal of Philosophy 24 (Supp): 95–114. (Provides a clear taxonomy of various moral realisms with distinct criteria.) Zhang, Dainian 張岱年. 1989. Treatise on the Conceptual Categories in Ancient Chinese Philosophy 中國古典哲學概念範疇要論. Beijing 北京: Zhongguo Shehui Kexue Chubanshe 中國社會科學出版社. Zhu, Xi 朱熹. 1986. The Classified Dialogues of Zhu Xi 朱子語類. Beijing 北京: Zhonghua Shuju Chubanshe 中華書局出版社. ———. 2000. The Collection of Zhu Xi’s Essays 朱子文集. Taipei 臺北: Defu Wenjiao Jijihui 德 富文敎基金會. ———. 2002. The Complete Work of Zhu Xi 朱子全書. Shanghai 上海: Shanghai Guji Chubanshe 上海古籍出版社. JeeLoo Liu is a professor of philosophy at California State University, Fullerton. Her primary interest is to reconstruct Chinese philosophy analytically, in topics such as Chinese metaphysics, Confucian moral psychology, and Neo-Confucian virtue ethics. In 2019, she is named Andrew Carnegie Fellow for her new research topic: Confucian robotic ethics. She has published NeoConfucianism: Metaphysics, Mind, and Morality and An Introduction to Chinese Philosophy: from Ancient Philosophy to Chinese Buddhism, and she is a co-editor of Consciousness and the Self and Nothingness in Asian Philosophy. She is currently the executive director of the International Society for Chinese Philosophy (2017–2022).  

Chapter 37

Zhu Xi and the Debate between Internalism and Externalism Shui Chuen Lee

1  Introduction Bernard Williams’s pathbreaking essay on internal and external reasons for action was hotly debated in metaethical analysis among Western ethicists (see Williams 1981; Darwall et al. 1992a, b). It is path-breaking in the sense that it brings the problem of motivation into the discussion of moral theories. More than 2000 years ago, Western philosophers mainly focused on the theoretical or conceptual analysis of ethical concepts and principles, largely neglecting practical issues of moral motivation, and paying less attention to the problem of how to put ethical theory into practice—that is, the moral cultivation and the realization of a moral person. In the so-called practical philosophy of ethics, philosophers seemed to care little about the mechanisms of moral practice.1 If ethics, however, is to mean anything, it must first and foremost attend to practice; ethics should address the problem of how to realize  Though Aristotle first called ethics as a branch of practical philosophy, Kant is perhaps the first great philosopher to show some concern about how to realize a moral act in our daily dealings. His third chapter on the incentive of practical reason in the Book I, Part I of the Critique of Practical Reason is a discussion of how practical reason is practical and the last Part II on Methodology contains some discussion on how to make the objective principle of moral law a subjective principle, that is, how to secure a person to act morally. It is in fact a piece of moral cultivation though very primitive in the eyes of Confucianism. Unfortunately, later development in philosophy pays no attention at all to Kant’s idea of moral practice and relegates the duty to educators or psychologists. 1

I am grateful to Professor Jennifer Liu in styling and polishing the paper so that it is much better readable in its present form. S. C. Lee (*) Graduate Institute of Philosophy, National Central University, Taoyuan, Taiwan, Republic of China e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2020 K.-c. Ng, Y. Huang (eds.), Dao Companion to ZHU Xi’s Philosophy, Dao Companions to Chinese Philosophy 13, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-29175-4_37

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a moral act. Although, Williams’s analysis of action-­explanation phrases may be novel in Western philosophy, related problems have long been addressed in Asian philosophical writings especially in the Chinese Confucian tradition. Williams’s essay is primarily a linguistic analysis of the relationship between reason and motivation implied in the utterance of an action-­making sentence; however, it brings to the fore the inner structure of our moral language, and more importantly, moral judgment and moral action. Furthermore, subsequent discussions have gradually led to reflections on the relationship between reasons, moral principles, motivation, desire, and further, to the important and tricky problem of ‘why be moral?’ (Setiya 2012a, b). However, such approaches remain more theoretically-oriented than practical. They require further development towards a theory of moral cultivation in order to make a comprehensive ethical theory and, hopefully, to thus help solve some of the controversies. Here, I suggest that Confucianism, and especially Zhu Xi’s theory of moral cultivation, can provide such a solution, providing a more adequate understanding of moral action and human conditions. The terms “internalism” and “externalism” were coined prior to Williams’s essay and some treatments along these lines had been undergoing discussion well before Williams’s exposition (Darwall et  al. 1992b: 305–12).2 However, they received serious attention and discussion only after Williams put forward his analysis of the kinds of reasons that one has in proclaiming that “one has the reason to do A,” where A is the action that one takes (Williams 1981). According to Williams, this sentence could have two different interpretations for the term “reason,” namely, internal or external. When applied to ethics, moral theories can be classified as internalist or externalist, depending on which meaning is applied to the term “reason” in moral action. This raises the importance of determining what kind of theories are, i.e., internalist or externalist, for, according to Williams’s analysis, there should be a strong argument in support of internalism and a rejection of externalism. Thus, it becomes both important and controversial to determine which of the classical ethical theories, such as those of Hume, Kant, Plato, and utilitarianism, are internalist or externalist. More controversial still are the questions of what kind of reason is an internal reason for moral action and how to relate the reason for acting and the motivation to act according to the moral judgment. Since Williams employs Hume’s theory as his model, calling his a sub-Humean model, his analysis seems biased to moral theories built upon emotion or desire and, thus, only internalism is justifiable; all rational theories are regarded as externalist and thus would be unjustified (Finlay and Schroeder 2017). While no one seems to doubt that Hume’s theory is internalist, more diverse perspectives exist on the question of whether Kant’s is internalist or externalist. Kantian moral theorists offer strong rebuttals, arguing forcefully that

 Stephen Darwall in his essay “Reasons, Motivations, the Demands of Morality: an Introduction” for the Part IV the book Moral Discourse and Practice: Some Philosophical Approaches, has noted that the term “internalism” derived from W. D. Falk’s “‘Ought’ and Motivation,” published in Proceedings of the Aristotelian Society 48 (1947–1948), pp.111–38. Cf Thomas Nagel, The Possibility of Altruism (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1970), p. 7, n.1; Part of the first chapter is reprinted in Moral Discourse and Practice: Some Philosophical Approaches, pp. 323–40. 2

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moral reason is as motivational as desire and is the appropriate motive for moral action.3 Herein, questions of what kind of moral theory is true and consequently how we should act, raise serious issues and stakes in the evaluation of different ethical theories. There are also rebuttals that externalism, which emphasizes the objectivity of morality, is as good as internalism and true to our moral experience. The question of motivation for moral action and of how moral acts can be both secured and better understood, brings a new dimension to moral discussions in Western ethics. This is in fact the very point of talking about ethical theories as ethics is a branch of philosophy in the practical sense and consequently it has to do with how to make people act morally and to practice morality. In Chinese philosophy, especially Confucianism, moral practice is always the major concern. The figure of the sage is the ideal, and the sage is the highest personality achievement through moral self-cultivation. On the other hand, Confucian theory also places great emphasis on the objectivity of moral principles, thus raising the question of whether Confucianism is an internalist or externalist theory. And, as Confucianism basically takes a practical approach and the central issue for Confucians is how we should and could act morally, the problem of desire or emotion has long been an issue of moral cultivation for all Confucians since Confucius. In a sense, Song–Ming Confucians had already deeply considered the mechanisms of moral practice and moral decision-making. Their personal reports on meticulous observations and substantial self-conscious reflections provide some very deep understanding of human moral experience and a model that transcends the partition of reason and emotion in moral discourse. As one of the most renowned Neo-Confucians of the Song–Ming period, Zhu Xi’s theory is regarded as representative of this second generation of Confucianism. His moral theory brings us a deeper understanding of the mechanism of moral judgment and moral action, and can shed much light on the present discussion of internalism and externalism. His analysis of the mechanism of moral cultivation can help to solve some of the controversies, especially about what kind of theories are internal or external. It reveals that the controversy in the West has its roots in the tri-partite division of our subjective faculties into reason, will and emotion, and in assuming that motivation comes, after Hume, only from emotion and even further limited to desire. Confucianism argues and shows in moral practice that moral action is not only motivated emotionally but is also motivated by reason and, in fact, the two are an integrated unity in moral action.

2 The Issues of Internalism and Externalism and the Significance of Moral Cultivation Bernard Williams proposes a sub-Humean model for the analysis of the sentence: “one has the reason to do A,” where A is the action that one does (Williams 1981: 101). It focuses on the source of motivation in our moral acts and asks what the kind

 Cf. The views and reasons by Nagel and Korsgaard are discussed below.

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of reason we have in doing a certain action is. Williams makes a distinction between two kinds of reason for action, namely, the internal and the external. The former implies that there is a factual connection of the agent’s acting on A and the subjective motivation of the agent, otherwise the sentence would be falsified. In contrast, there is no such implication for externalism. According to Hume, reason does not motivate and rather, what moves us to action is our passion. Williams restricts this further, framing action as the function of desire, and thus holding that it is because we have some kind of desire that can be satisfied by doing A that leads us to do A. Hence, it is because we want A that we are motivated to do A. This fits well with Hume’s moral theory, for according to Hume, we make the moral judgment that a willful murder is evil because we have a strong emotion of disapproval against it and this is the same motivation that moves us to work against murder. Thus, Hume’s moral theory is a standard form of motivational internalism. Though Williams did not explore it in any detail, basically he regards Kant’s theory as one of externalism since, for Kant, moral law is the reason that we judge whether an act is moral or not; the source of our motivation is external to, and perhaps even against, our desire. However, when Williams applies his analysis to moral action, it has to face and would be difficult to explain our common experience that very often we feel compelling to act according to our moral judgment and it is our non-moral desire that distracts us from doing our duty. Moral discourse restricting motivation to desire in our moral acts is at least incoherent. For we commonly regard doing moral act as rational and the motivating element would be very strong, especially when it is a case of important moral decision. It means simply that moral judgment does have reason and motivational, which is likely rejected by our desire or emotion or other personal reasons. So if, as Williams proposes, reason cannot provide any motivation towards moral action, then our subjective motivational set must have some very strong pro-moral motivation so that we will act accordingly, otherwise we would never do any moral act at all. However, faced with the call of duty, we usually feel ashamed if we retreat or follow our desire to do otherwise.4 Feeling ashamed suggests that we do have a moral motivation to do our duty according to our moral judgment, even though we may fail to perform our duty for various reasons, such as weakness of will, selfishness, misjudgment, or being under strong emotional conditions such as anger, hatred. Moral judgment thus does have motivation that can materialize in moral action. We do perform moral actions, and we know that we must properly perform our duties, thus desire cannot be the sole agent for moral action. There must be some explanation for why moral judgment can motivate us to act morally beyond the mere satisfaction of our desires. Either we are born with moral desire or proper moral judgment or what lies behind them as Nagel argues, which provides us with sufficient motivation to act according to our moral judgment. Hence, motivation by desire is inadequate and inappropriate for the explanation of moral judgment and moral action.  Those marginal cases of apathy, even anti-sociopaths personality are relatively uncommon and could be treated as marginal cases and could be reasonably assimilated as cases needing effective moral cultivation or education. 4

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There are of course strong arguments against the Humean presupposition of the impotence of reason in moral action. In her thorough examination of Williams’s analysis, Christine Korsgaard maintains that his analysis does not exclude the possibility that reason can function as part of our subjective motivational set because Williams still allows that deliberation of all sorts could be part of the set, though Korsgaard admits that Williams is skeptical of the existence of unconditional moral principle with the motivating power of reason (Korsgaard 1992). However, as he allows deliberation as part of his subjective motivational set, Korsgaard argues that if our deliberation of reason is our principle for action, this kind of principle could not be the means/end kind of reason. Hence, with Williams’s model, if reason as principle could be part of our subjective motivational set, practical reason could at least be part of a motivating set for our action. Korsgaard’s reading of Williams’s kind of skepticism on practical reason centers on whether there is an unconditional principle of action which could be ultimately justified, and Williams seems to reject it out of hand. Korsgaard makes the important distinction between the existence of the principle of reason that never failed to motivate and that we may fail to act according to the call of our duty. The existence of the latter is not a reason for skepticism regarding the existence of the former, as we could have many other reasons and motivations leading us astray, even as those moral principles do motivate us to act morally. In a similar vein, Thomas Nagel argues forcefully against the omnipresence of desires in action and argues that reason must be capable of motivating action. Instead of deriving motivation from desire, Nagel’s analysis shows that that some desires are motivated by reason, or the moral requirement is itself motivational. A significant factor is that we have the capability of thinking in terms of others’ points of view and taking others as persons like ourselves. According to Nagel, as conscious beings we must apply our system of normative principles to ourselves, that is, have a reason and motivation to act according to our moral judgment (Nagel 1992). Korsgaard makes it more explicit in her explication of the implications of Kant’s notion of autonomy of the will in the legislation of the moral law. The moral law is that which we freely legislate to our own selves. That is, we have a practical identity to which we have a duty according to moral law. This is our reason to act morally. We are reluctant to enact self-negation or self-denial. We usually have a strong practical identity with which we act according to how our moral law commands. Hence, moral judgment comes from both our moral law and our practical identity, and the moral law is the motivating power that motivates us to act according to our moral judgment. In other words, this is the source of our normativity and practical identity that is the greatest motivating force for us to act morally. It could override our desire. Since the principle and motivation to act comes from our autonomy and self-legislation, it is by all means an internalism. In this account, moral reason is a motivating factor derived from our own will together with our compassion for others, and thus Nagel’s theory could meet the internal requirement and also be interpreted as an internalist theory. Korsgaard understands the internal requirement as a psychological demand on ethical theories rather than a way of refuting them. In fact, she suggests further that even utilitarianism or intuitionism are not excluded,

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but would only require a reformulation of the theory in relation to motivation (Darwall et al. 1992a: 384). The recent development of the criterion of an internalist theory is much broader and leaves open how a theory relates motivation to some internal factors such as emotion, desire, or reason. The idea is abbreviated as a form of “simple internalism” as follows: Simple internalism: Necessarily, if a person judges that she morally ought to φ, then she is (at least somewhat) motivated to φ. (Björnsson et al. 2015: 3)

This is the basic requirement for an ethical theory to be counted as an internalist theory. In fact, it states only a formal connection between making a moral judgment and the motivation to act accordingly. The definition does not restrict the motivation to desire or anything like it as long as the motivation comes directly or indirectly from the moral judgment. This definition could accommodate not only Humean model, but also Kantian model, as the latter specifies that our choosing to act according to moral law is motivated by our unconditional imperative derived ultimately from the autonomous and self-legislating free will and thus a self-­ascribed command and internal reason in opposition to any motivation from desire or whatever else. Hence, to be more specific, it needs to specify the condition under which and how this happens. It is turned into a formulation called conditional internalism: Conditional internalism: Necessarily, if a person judges that she morally ought to φ, then she is (at least somewhat) motivated to φ if she is C. (Björnsson et al. 2015: 9)

Since the condition could be stated or elaborated in a number of different ways, there are different kinds of internalism, such as psychological normal, rational, perceptual internalism as well as unconditional and deferred internalism, which could also be expanded to cover many other kinds of internalism. However, any meaningful internalism must meet the following four conditions as Gunnar Björnsson et al. suggest that Conditional internalism has to answer the following four questions: First, they need to offer an account of moral judgments explaining why such judgments have a necessary connection to motivation given that the judge is C. Second, they need to specify C in a way that does not threaten to make internalism explanatorily impotent. Third, they should specify C so as to account for the relevant categories of amoralists. Fourth, and finally, the argument’s motivation internalism should support the version of internalism resulting from the specification of C. (Björnsson et al. 2015: 11)

Accordingly, different versions of C would produce various kinds of internalism. Condition C is a theory explaining the connection of moral judgment and moral motivation that leads to a moral action according to our moral judgment. It remains for us to determine which kind of internalism represents the kind of model that captures the sense of our moral experience. A sound moral theory has to give an account for the internal and objective meanings of moral action. One of the underlying questions that needs to be given serious consideration is that if we have two

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major different kinds of internalist theories, namely the Humean emotional type and the Kantian rational type, then we need to give an account as to which one is true to our moral experience and could thus provide a way that prompts us to act morally. This is important in understanding our moral psychology, ontology, and in general, our human conditions, and it has important implications for our shared social and political life. Ethics is principally a practical enterprise, and it must address both the way we live and the person we become in our life. Different kinds of internalism lead us to different ways of practicing morality and thus lead to our actualization as different kinds of moral persons. This is significant to our own estimation of the worthiness of our life and the actualization of our value or possible dreams. We cannot be indifferent to different kinds of moral theories. Since an internalist theory requires that our moral judgment has a connection with our motivation to act, this connection can be utilized to prompt us to act morally. If we have a motivation to act morally and do not act accordingly, then there must be other motivating forces that may leads us astray. Hence a moral theory must explain not only that we have motivation to act and shall act accordingly, but also must account for the reasons why we may do otherwise. Thus, a moral theory will contain a theory of moral cultivation, the effectiveness of which provides a test of the truth of the moral theory. While most Western ethical theories pay some attention to the explanation of what constitutes a moral act, few raises the question of moral motivation, and almost none addresses the cultivation of moral character. While recent discussions of externalism and internalism address the problem of moral motivation in relation to the realization of a moral act, they do not provide a proper theory of moral cultivation and thus can neither test the correctness of their theory nor give an explanation of the experience of moral virtue in daily life. They do not explain how we might ensure that one will act morally when making moral decisions. The reason that the two types of internalism, as well as some forms of externalism, enter into a dead-lock lies in the tripartite division of reason, will and emotion which attribute different functions to each as the origin of morality and the source of normativity. Since the founding of Confucianism, the goal of philosophy has been to address the question of how to become a man of virtue, a moral person (junzi 君子) or sage. That is, moral cultivation is the goal of doing philosophy. Moral theory and related metaphysical theory are in fact built upon the moral experience of personal moral development and moral cultivation. Moral motivation is certainly an important element of being a virtuous person. In what follows, I shall show how Confucianism, in particular Zhu Xi’s moral theory, could satisfy the four conditions listed above. Furthermore, Zhu Xi gives not only an ethical theory but also the mechanism of how to be a better person through moral self-cultivation. It is through moral practice that we get to the heart of our moral experience and the understanding of our own self.

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3 The Background of Zhu Xi’s Theory and A Short Preliminary Introduction of the Development of Pre-Qin Confucianism An internalist moral theory assumes that moral motivation can be generated internally which means moral motivation can be strengthened through self-­cultivation, thus, an internalist moral theory must be able to provide a theory of moral cultivation, that is, a way to promote and secure our motivation to act morally. A reasonable and effective theory of moral cultivation serves as a testing stone for the truthfulness of a moral theory. Hence, a good moral theory must not only provide an adequate explanation of our moral action, but must also provide some workable instruction as to how we can make use of the theory in order to better ourselves through our moral character. Furthermore, a theory of moral cultivation must include a mechanism that can secure our performance of moral action independent of external conditions, i.e., it must show that we have a way to improve our moral performance through moral self-cultivation. Confucianism satisfies both conditions and is thus an internalist and workable theory of moral cultivation. Confucianism is a rational theory with an internal rational moral motivation that derives from the unique capability of our heart/mind in its process of moral decision-making and moral motivation. Moral action, in this way, confirms us as a moral person with a moral and practical self-identity and a related high self-esteem. Since Zhu Xi is a dedicated Confucian and many of his ideas are shaped by pre-Qin Confucian texts, and especially those of Confucius and Mencius, a preliminary exposition of pre-Qin Confucianism will help to clarify the contours of his theory. As we know, Chinese philosophies, Confucianism as well as Taoism and Buddhism, have as a common goal the practice of philosophy or philosophical activities, that is, they address how to become a sage, an authentic person or a Buddha. The very first chapter of the Analects starts with Confucius discussing the pleasure in learning moral cultivation (xue 學) through repetitive practice, by which he means the cultivation of moral practice following virtuous persons (Zhu 1984: 47). This is much more than book learning as the goal is to become a better self with the ultimate aim of becoming a sage. The attainment of such a state of sagehood is the highest possible achievement of being a person. In such a state, not only does one become a person with infinite worth, but one is also in union with the Universe and all others, thereby transcending both the problem of bodily death and the distortion or torture of a confined self. Breaking out of such a limited and self-­ enclosed ego, one becomes absolutely free and totally immersed and united in Dao in a boundless state of mind. This transcendence of the limited self or ego, with a vision of holism under Heaven or within the Universe, necessitates the recognition that one lives in community and solidarity with others, including non-human entities, and as such must care and contribute unselfishly in the service of the happiness for all. It is a liberation and enlightenment of the self. The underlying principle or wisdom is called Dao, the ultimate reality of our life and the Universe. The process of self-cultivation is also a hermeneutic of Dao or the realization of Dao

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with one’s life. Sage, Buddha and the Daoist authentic person personify Dao in his or her life. In this, Confucius is the leading and paradigmatic person who, through reflection on the experience of self-cultivation realized his own sagehood. These exemplary people ground Chinese philosophies’ recognition that we are born with certain capabilities and that through a process of demanding personal effort we can realize the ideal state of a person, i.e., that of a sage. It is thus a self-liberating process. Hence, practical cultivation of the self is of central importance for Chinese philosophies; it is the ultimate concern for Chinese philosophies. Theories and theoretical systems are outgrowths of this core concern and they should be understood with practice rather than solely as a theoretical exposition. In order to understand the specific status of moral cultivation in Zhu Xi’s philosophy and his contribution to the understanding and solution to the problem of internalism, some background on his Confucianism is useful. That is, below, I will introduce his basic ideas on the relationship between theory and practice in moral cultivation with a heuristic explanation of some of the basic terminology in pre-Qin Confucianism. In his reflection upon his own experience of learning, or moral practice, Confucius recounts how he made up his mind to learn and practice at the age of 15 following the models of virtuous men. He recounts how, step by step, he achieved a stage in his seventies, his last years, at the level usually designated as a sage (Zhu 1984: 54). It is clear that moral cultivation is a life-long process that can be achieved through the conscious, continuous cultivation of our moral practice. In the last stage, Confucius reports being able to conjure up with his mind any thought or wish freely, and none of them would be contaminated by any immoral volition. That is, his desire or volition always remained bound by moral law; they were moral without exception. In a sense, his will became purified so much as to become practically a holy will. Selfish desires were completely eradicated. In this way, Confucius constituted himself as a person who acts morally as if without any effort or need for self-disciplinary control. Sometimes Confucius regards himself as accompanying the flood of tian dao and as living completely free and in harmony with Nature (Zhu 1984: 180). What Confucius or Confucians mean by “learning,” then, is not just ordinary book learning but a kind of moral practice that, as a result of life-long moral reflection, cultivation and promotion, finally leads one to the end of moral development, that is a sage. His success enlightened later Confucians regarding conscious reflection as the method of moral cultivation and drawing attention to the progressive stages that one could achieve through practice. Mencius was one of the first Confucians to make a moral theory built upon an understanding of how our moral judgment flows spontaneously from our moral mind which cannot bear to see the sufferings of others. In his famous paradigmatic case (Zhu 1984: 237), Mencius points out that when we are suddenly confronted with the scene of an innocent small child at the brink of falling into a deep well and drowning, our mind has a spontaneous response; it is one of alarm at the serious harm about to happen to this innocent child. It manifests as a self-­ ascribed duty to help the child and a motivation to act commanded by our moral mind unconditionally. It is thus an internal motivational force that prompts us to take action. Mencius points out that this response is the revelation of the humanity

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(ren 仁) of our moral heart/mind (xin 心). It comprises a strong feeling of compassion at the suffering of the child (chuti ceyin 怵惕惻隱) and is itself a basic principle of our heart/mind. Ren is regarded as one of the most basic, and often as the supreme, moral principle and thus it is a reason, or the rational expression, of our heart/mind (Zhu 1984: 237).5 According to Mencius, we could become a sage and could help all people under Heaven just by enlarging this unbearable heart/mind continuously. Mencius’ exposition of Confucius’ theory emphasizes the priority of moral practice which becomes the central issue for all Confucians. Pre-Qin Confucianism foregrounds the discussion and description of the state and achievement of being a sage and develops into a full blown encompassing holism, especially in the books of Daxue 大學 (the Great Learning) and Zhongyong 中庸 (the Doctrine of the Mean). Moral cultivation involves theory and practice which are embedded in the relations between subjective agency, usually covered under the term heart/mind, and objective principle, usually referred to as human nature (xing 性), principle or reason (li 理), and Heaven (tian 天) or Heavenly Mandate (tianming 天命). The practice of morality comprises simply the orders of our heart/mind, which issues our moral judgment and the moral command. The reasons that might cause us not to follow such orders are due to the negative effects of our bodily inclinations to indulge in improper desires.6 Moral cultivation strengthens our abilities to overcome the effects of desire, as well as the obstacles of various physical and conceptual limitations. In the long history of Confucianism, especially Song–Ming Confucianism, there have been heated, and richly documented, debates among different Confucian Schools examining the relationship between reasons and desires, will and volitions, and their relation to the realization of a moral act, and ultimately to the realization of sagehood in one’s life. Though they do not directly address the problem of internalism and externalism, they provide some very insightful ideas and analysis regarding the issue. As arguably the most important Confucian of the Song–Ming period, Zhu Xi’s idea is certainly one of the most significant contribu Mencius puts forward his analysis and argument in his famous, though short, statement of the spontaneous response to the alarming scene of a small child at the brink of falling into a deep well and who will thus be serious hurt. The spontaneous response is an unconditional imperative to ourselves urging us to stop the great harm coming to the innocent child. This is our moral mind that finds unbearable the suffering of others. It is the foundation of moral judgment and motivates us to act spontaneously, and thus unconditionally, for it is a moral decision made before any reflection or deliberation of means and end, and made even before we determine what kind of action to save the child. Mencius is of course aware that we may finally help to save the child or alternately just walk away. Though some may not do anything to help save the child, it does not mean that we do not have the spontaneous response and a self-motivation within our mind, as Korsgaard maintained the distinction of the two theses. For a detailed analysis of the argument contained in this passage, please refer to my book on the sources of normativity in Confucianism (Lee 2013: 190–98). 6  This is the basic way of picturing the two poles of our lives, first proposed by Mencius, with the reflective part as “hear/mind” (xin) called the lofty body (dati 大體) and the lesser body (xiaoti 小 體) which is non-reflective and acts merely following natural impulses. For Zhu Xi, the heart/mind is the reflective and active part of our life (qizhiling 氣之靈), and bodily inclination refers to the part of our life that is non-reflective, inert and impulsive. It is by no means a body-mind duality thesis like the one suggested by Descartes. 5

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tions to the field.7 In the following, I shall outline his basic theory of moral cultivation and discuss how it can contribute to the discussion of internalism and externalism.

4 Zhu Xi’s Analysis of the Basic Structure of a Moral Act: From Moral Cultivation to Moral Theory In his years of inquiry into moral cultivation, Zhu Xi has gone through at least three stages of development after his return to the study of Confucianism. In his first years of learning with Li Yanping 李延平 on the moral cultivation of Confucianism, Zhu Xi begins to cast off his former Buddhist conception of practice and theory. However, lacking depth and certainty of Confucian moral practice, Zhu Xi remained somewhat skeptical about theories of moral cultivation, for which he was rigorously criticized by Li (Lee 2014). Unfortunately, Li died shortly after starting his work with Zhu Xi, leaving the young Zhu Xi in a state of frustration and uneasiness with his own questions regarding moral cultivation. After Li’s death, Zhu Xi was introduced to the heir of the Hu-Xiang School 湖湘學派, namely Zhang Nanxuan 張南軒, also known as Zhang Qinfu 張欽夫. Zhu Xi later said that at this time he had felt like a drowning person who had been rescued. He quickly adopted the way of moral cultivation passed down from the older of the Cheng Brothers, Cheng Mingdao 程明道 through Xie Shangcai 謝上蔡 to Hu Wufeng 胡五峰. This approach is basically a Mencian model of moral cultivation in which the heart/mind serves as both the origin of morality and the source of motivation for moral action and moral cultivation. The self-consciousness of the heart/mind in daily affairs is the starting point of moral cultivation. The heart/mind is the manifestation of xing and in union with it. Moral cultivation is merely the continuous enlargement of this moral self-consciousness in every aspect of our daily life. In other words, the heart/ mind is central in all cultivation from a single moral act up to one’s actualization as a sage. This is basically Zhu Xi’s old version of the “Problems of zhong-he.” Here, though Zhu Xi repeatedly asserts the centrality of the Hu-Xiang School’s idea of a moral mind, he is not quite comfortable with it and finds it difficult to grasp its function to adopt it as his way of moral cultivation. It seems that Zhu Xi retained a residual Buddhist conception of the mind as something neutral that could be the source of immoral desires and volitions. Following his rejection of this old version of moral cultivation, Zhu Xi wrote that he had, in fact, felt at that time that it did not fit quite well with Yichuan’s teachings, but had regarded them as perhaps the early and immature thoughts of a younger Yichuan. But then, Zhu Xi recounts, in discussing his theory of moral practice with one of his students, he became skeptical  There is in fact a heated debated issue of whether Zhu Xi is representative of Confucianism or is a side development. Whatever it is, Zhu Xi is still representative of a very important School of Confucianism. In the following, I shall give an exposition of Zhu Xi’s ideas and how they related to the issue of internalism and externalism. 7

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himself. Reconsidering what the masters had said about the relation of xin and xing, Zhu Xi turns to a new version of how to understand the function of the heart/mind in moral cultivation; this becomes his new and final version of moral cultivation under the name of “New version of Zhonghe” (Zhonghe xinshuo 中和新說) (Zhu 2002a: 1125–6, 1173–4, 2002b: 3130–3131, 3266–3269). This version contains substantial changes in his conceptions of xin, xing, li and Dao. The most important change is that Zhu Xi, is now a faithful disciple of Cheng Yichuan 程伊川, interpreting almost all pre-Qin Confucianism along Yichuan’s line of thinking and bringing it to its full perfection. Zhu Xi now rejects all other methods of moral cultivation including those of Cheng Mingdao’s, to whom he remained respectful but mainly in the form of lip service. Now, Zhu Xi has reconstructed a new philosophical system of Confucianism which appears to unwittingly distance itself from Confucius and Mencius.8 Zhu Xi’s mature and final philosophical system and moral theory, retrieved from his theory of moral cultivation, is as follows. After returning to the teachings of Cheng Yichuan, Zhu Xi takes as the core of his doctrine, Yichuan’s declaration that “xing is principle” (xing ji li 性即理) (Zhu 1983: [1] 82, 93), while the heart/mind is no longer purely a moral mind and thus can waver between in accordance with heavenly principle (tianli 天理) or human desires (renyu 人欲). The heart/mind is still the center of moral decision-making and choice. It is active with the important function of the perception of good and bad, but it is not necessarily making moral decisions by itself. The heart/mind is subject to the motivation and moral commands of xing and thus is regarded as the most active and creative on the part of qi (xin nai qi zhi ling 心乃氣之靈) (Zhu 1983: [5] 85, 87). However, it needs the guidance of the principles of xing to make good moral decisions; otherwise, it may be led astray by desires and selfishness. Projected back onto the original state of the heart/mind, like that of a newborn child uncontaminated by worldly desires, xin and xing are of one piece, though in a double-fold relation. They are existentially one—in a piece—but ontologically different (bu li bu za 不離不雜), with xing belonging to the metaphysical level of being, while the heart/mind belongs to the level of qi 氣, which has something of a mundane and concrete existence (Zhu 1983: [1] 3). Now, xing is the sole source of morality and moral principles and the ground of the existence of the heart/mind, as well as of all things. The two are related as ti 體 (substance) and yong 用 (manifestations), and xing with its principles coming from the Heaven or Dao, is the metaphysical ground of the existence of the heart/mind and they are inseparably united as one in human beings. Xing promotes, and, in a sense, motivates the heart/mind to act morally according to the principles or moral judgments. However, human desire may interfere and block the fulfilment of the command of duty. Hence, Zhu Xi has outlined a coherent system of Confucianism, that addresses the distinction of metaphysical and concrete matters (li–qi 理氣), xin–xing relation  One of the most rigorous critique of Zhu Xi’s theory of moral cultivation is by one of the most famous and important contemporary Neo-Confucian, the late Professor Mou Zongsan, who devotes a whole book on Zhu Xi’ philosophy in his justly famous volumes on Song-Ming Confucianism (Mou 1969). 8

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(xin–xing guanxi 心性關係), the distinction of human-mind (ren xin 人心, i.e., desire) and Dao-mind (dao xin 道心), the separation of knowledge and practice in which knowledge comes first (xian zhi hou xing 先知後行), and the necessary study of the ultimate source of the principles of everything (ji wu qiong li 即物窮理). Finally, it confirms that when the heart/mind exerts itself hard enough with respectfulness, it will be enlightened at a certain point of cultivation and grasp all the principles thoroughly, so that one can know every details of all things and the total function of heart/mind. We then shall be acting always in accordance with the principles of xing, or Heaven, and thus will always act morally and in harmony with everything. By continuously practicing in this manner, one will ultimately arrive the stage of a sage like Confucius. Now as the source of moral principle or principles or xing is something other than the center of agency the heart/mind, it seems that Zhu Xi’s ethics is a kind of externalism. However, his theory is more complicating in that xin and xing have a very particular internal relation, that is ti and yong, which centers them into one active subject and inseparable from each other. I shall examine their relation in moral cultivation to show their relation in a moral act.

5 Zhu Xi’s Theory of Moral Cultivation: The Realization of Sagehood Principle (li) refers to the reality of the Universe, the creative principle of all things. It is called by  different names in different occasions, such as Dao, Heavenly Mandate, Heaven, Taiji 太極, and others. It is the transcendental reality and it has a metaphysical status, in contrast with the mundane or physical status of vital matter (qi 氣) which has some aspect of concrete form (Zhu 1983: [1] 3). This means that we are all born with a common endowment that comes from Dao, which is supposedly the principle that creates Heaven and Earth and everything (Zhu 1983: [4] 56, 61). Dao is understood as the ground of everything, sustaining existence and reality. It is the Principle of creation and it is present in processes of production and reproduction and the procreation of all things (sheng sheng zhi de 生生之德) (Zhu 1983: [5] 85). As the nourishing fountain of all things, it permeates them all and exists as their nature or xing. Hence, everything shares the Principle though it manifests in different degrees (li yi fen shu 理一分殊) (Zhu 1983: [1] 2). The variation reflects the combined effects of principle and matter. Zhu Xi even asserts that plants and grass also have a kind of heart/mind though they have no clear perception like the human heart/mind (Zhu 1983: [4] 60). This is in congruence with his saying that everything has xing, and having xing means that they share the same kind of endowment in their different concrete forms. As heart/mind is a kind of qi, hence everything also has heart/mind. Zhu Xi thinks that when plants move with the sun, they are actively responding to outside stimulus, hence showing different responses to similar and dissimilar stimulations, it is a kind of sensitive reaction or perception of

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the environment. However, the heart/mind of plants and grass is minimal and it shows, according to Zhu Xi’s observation, that they lack a kind of clear perception; hence, they show no consciousness and never self-consciousness. Human beings have a unique capability to recognize, in their self-consciousness, the universal principle within their lives, and they act from this endowment in moral acts which in turn resemble creation and procreation. This self-consciousness reflects our heart/ mind and is the ground of moral action. According to Confucianism, moral acts are creations. For instance, a moral act of helping to relieve the suffering of a child creates a moral fact in this mundane world. It becomes part and parcel an objective fact of our living world. Such creative acts are particular acts, but they are of infinite value. Such an act transcends far above the specific space and time in which it is performed, and it carries a value that is high above any price. The performance of a moral act raises the value of our lives beyond any price and thus, using Kant’s terminology, confers dignity to our lives. For Confucianism, the value of such creativity is the same as the creativity of Dao, which is beyond any human price. Hence, though we are not physically infinite, we share a kind of infinity with Dao. This is the important function and value of our heart/mind, which can raise the value of our lives far beyond any mundane evaluation. This is the way that Confucianism understands the special feature or value of being human. This much is common for all Confucians, Zhu Xi as well as his opponents. The difference is in their accounts of how to achieve it, namely, how to complete a true moral act (Tang 1975). Zhu Xi regards everything on Earth as endowed with principles, though maybe in different forms, which ultimately converge into the grand ultimate principle of Taiji—the ultimate principle of the Universe. Our heart/mind belongs to the realm of vital matter and is supposed to be the most self-conscious and reflective element. However, for Zhu Xi, our heart/mind by itself is not absolutely good. It may be good and it may be bad. It needs to act out of the principles of xing, that is, according to Dao or Taiji, so that it is truly moral and creative in its action. It is then in the state of Dao-heart/mind (dao xin 道心); otherwise, it would remain in a state full of all kinds of desires from our bodily conditions as human-heart/mind (ren xin 人心). It is upon such deep experience of our heart/mind and its operation that Zhu Xi develops further his way of moral cultivation, again drawing from Cheng Yichuan with his own interpretation and expansion: “Before any action, our heart/mind must be kept upright with respect, and in our cultivation we have to learn the knowledge of the ultimate principles.” There are two aspects of moral cultivation. First, in our ordinary daily live, before we move to act, we have to nurture our heart/mind. For Zhu Xi, it is very important to have our heart/mind ready for moral action in order to be able to respond morally to stimulations and challenges. Hence, our moral cultivation should start with the concealed and motionless state of our heart/mind, and have it kept in a state of respectfulness. For, in such a state of respectfulness, we will not be distracted by our greed, desires, and tardiness. Our mind is in a solemn state, concentrating on the preservation of the principles lying within our heart/mind to keep all sorts of distractions and desires away. It keeps our mind clear and upright and ready to perform actions in accordance with the moral command or moral order of the principles of our xing. When the time comes, we will be able to respond to all

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kinds of affairs in line with the principles without any immoral thoughts or desires (Zhu 2002a: [32] 1418–21). However, it does not mean that before any action, we are just motionless and meditating; in fact, we are always actively nurturing our heart/mind with moral principles. Meanwhile, we are also taking the second step of cultivation in expanding our knowledge of the principles through everything and our everyday life. In order to make our heart/mind clear and full of such principles, Zhu Xi thinks that the only way is to reach out to the things and to chase them all the way to their ultimate reality or the principles within everything, or all matters. In such a way, we have all the knowledge, great or small, simple or complicated, within our grasp. Now, with our heart/mind full of principles and without the hindrance of human desires, the moral decision made by our heart/mind carries a motivation to act, and what comes from such motivation must be a moral act. If we could maintain our heart/mind in such a state, we are guaranteed to act morally. Through repetition of the aforementioned process of moral cultivation, according to Zhu Xi, we shall be able to act in a moral way all the time. As a result of a long process of practice, we will finally arrive at the level of a sage. Basically, the reason that people do not act morally is not because the principles do not motivate, but rather that the force of motivation from principle is not strong enough. Other motivations may come from desire, improper education, or socialization, or due to a long practice of immoral action, such that one becomes less prone to our moral motivation. The way to combat these kinds of defects is to practice moral cultivation, to reassert the guiding status of the principles and to actively improve their authority over our heart/ mind by maintaining it with respectfulness so that it is not distracted and thus follows the order of the principles. For those with an apparent total lack of moral consciousness or moral judgment, such as apathetic people or those with anti-social personality, Zhu Xi employs the method of stimulation of the heart/mind with moral examples in suitable situations. Here, the hope is that the faint voice of our moral consciousness may be heard and thus may activate our heart/mind with principles. In extreme cases, confining such people with proper lawful arrangements can be viewed as similar to keeping wild animals from hurting others. The question of the effectiveness of this method of moral cultivation remains. Zhu Xi’s method had been seriously challenged and criticized by his contemporary, Lu Jiuyuan 陸九淵 and many of the Confucians of the Ming dynasty, most notably Wang Yangming 王陽明. They charged that Zhu Xi’s conception of the relation of xin and xing, and his way of cultivating the state of our heart/mind is problematic and not in line with the practice of Confucius and Mencius. One of the most important contemporary neo-Confucians, the late Professor Mou Zongsan 牟宗三 points out that Zhu Xi is not the true heir of pre-Qin Confucianism, because his way of moral cultivation is not the right one and could not achieve the goal of a sage (Mou 1969). An important charge is that Zhu Xi’s interpretation of the relation of xin and xing makes his system a heteronomous system, rather than the originally autonomous system as it is for Confucius and Mencius. This charge requires further investigation.

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6 How to Realize a Moral Act: Relation between Xin and Xing Again As we have explicated in the former sections, Zhu Xi is in line with other Confucians in taking the heart/mind as the nexus of moral action. The principle of xing is the source of morality and that of xin, or heart/mind, is the agency for action. However, with the ontological distinction and separation of xin and xing, our heart/mind belongs to qi. The heart/mind fluctuates between Dao and desire. Hence, for Zhu Xi the heart/mind cannot complete a moral act all by itself. Zhu Xi makes the delicate observation that though xin and xing are not one, they are inseparable, that is, they are in one body with the same agency. This fact is central to his moral cultivation. When Zhu Xi says that they are not one, he means that they are ontologically different. Xing is the principle, something formless, metaphysical and transcendental, while xin is an element of the vital matter (qi 氣), something with form, physical and immanent. They belong to different realms of reality and thus are not one. On the other hand, they are inseparable, as the heart/mind is the function (yong 用) of xing and in a sense a manifestation of xing. Furthermore, they are in one body, and the principles of xing have no other location—they must be located within our heart/ mind (Zhu 1983: [5] 88, 89). It is because of xing that we can reach out and be united with Dao. Zhu Xi employs a conception from another great Song Confucian, Zhang Zai that “the heart/mind integrates the xing and the qing 情 (feeling, emotion, or passion).” The heart/mind integrates and unites the two together (xin tong xing qing 心統性情) (Zhu 1983: [5] 92, 93). Some of Zhu Xi’s sayings or explications sound like the heart/mind is something lying between the two (xing and qing), and sometimes even seem to imply that the heart/mind is the form of xing or the concretization of xing itself. It seems to put the two as one. However, when push to the endpoint, Zhu Xi admits that the heart/mind has a certain concrete form while xing is definitely formless. And, the heart/mind belong to the realm of yin-yang 陰 陽 that is, the changeable or forever in the flux of changes, and hence cannot be something timeless and motionless like the principles or xing. The most definite difference is that our heart/mind can be morally good or morally bad while the xing is forever morally good as it is itself the source of morality. So, while in spatial terms they appear together, metaphorically in the same space, they are different kinds of entities. One is the center of agency while the other is the principle of agency. With the difference drawn out as such, the question of how the heart/mind can produce a moral act needs be explained. It seems that Zhu Xi sometimes does recognize a discrepancy here. If the heart/mind is not also the source of morality or normativity, then how the two can work together requires explanation. That is, how does the heart/mind put the principles into action? When asked, Zhu Xi sometimes responded that they need not be integrated, they are already integrated as they are. Even if they are integrated, however, this does not make them automatically one. In fact, Zhu Xi was consistent that they are not one ontologically. Thus, moral action is completed with the heart/mind cultivated to a level saturated with the principles of our xing and rid of all other distractions, and is enacted according to the command

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of principles. The center of agency, that is, our heart/mind, is heteronomous. According to Kant, if the heart/mind is not autonomous in its action, then the act can never be truly a moral one, and it will never bring us to the stage of a sage. Another way to look at Zhu Xi’s problem is that his theory of cultivation does not explain how the maintenance of respectfulness can be other than something already in accordance with the principles. Purely external solemnness or prudency could not lead to the constitution of the ground for moral action. Cultivation of the heart/mind before moral action is surely something external to the heart/mind itself. It may appear obvious that the pursuit of knowledge of the principles of all things leads the heart/mind to turn toward something external to itself. This is why other Confucians suggest that Zhu Xi separates the heart/mind and the principle (xing) into two, leading the heart/mind astray. Though Zhu Xi asserts that the principles of things are also the principles within the heart/mind, his moral cultivation requires intense study with external things and internal reflections. Knowledge, and knowing how to act in ordinary affairs, is no doubt helpful for us in developing good moral intentions. The main point is that it is not a union of the subjectivity of the heart/ mind with the objectivity of Dao wherein the subject will be lost in the vast and never-ending search to grasp the principles inside and outside. Rather, the practice of moral cultivation to achieve the state of a sage is a never-ending process (jian jiao 漸教), and thus one could never arrive at the state of being completely moral, through and through, as a sage. Zhu Xi may rebut such a charge of heteronomy in that the two aspects of moral cultivation are in constant interaction and integration. Zhu Xi has reason to hold that though our heart/mind is not the origin point of morality, it is by nature susceptible to the influence of the principles of xing, and can be kept in line in a calm and motionless state. Zhu Xi is well aware that our heart/mind is replete with fluctuations and distractions, and for this reason we need certain meditations to keep our heart/mind in a calm and unwavering state. In such a state, the principles within our heart/mind can shine through and resist desires and distractions that derived from our bodily needs and greed. This is similar to Mencius’ depiction of our state in the early morning when, after a long night’s rest, our heart/mind recovers and stays in a clear and undisturbed state in which the activity of the heart/mind is independent of the rest of the world. While, this picture of our heart/mind seems closely resembling Buddhist meditative practice, Zhu Xi emphasizes that the way and point of Confucian practice are different and here moral respectfulness as a way of li is coming from the Dao of Heaven, rather than a kind of emptiness. In such a way, Zhu Xi’s moral cultivation is a practical manifestation of the principles within our heart/ mind and basically originates from our xing. Hence, it is a way of autonomous moral practice.9

 I have made a comparative study of Zhu Xi and Kant, with xin and xing in contrast with Kant’s idea of wilhur (volition) and wille. I have argued that the two are homological and both are autonomous kind of agency though different from the kind of Mencius (Lee 1993). 9

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7 Zhu Xi’s Internalism vs. that of Korsgaard and Williams We may now return to the question of internalism and externalism. According to Bernard Williams’s original formulation, and in accounts of conditional internalism more generally, Zhu Xi’s account of moral action is by all means an internalism. For, the heart/mind is motivated to act by the principles of xing which is itself both within and inseparable from the heart/mind. Williams’s formulation is somewhat biased toward an empiricist conception that views motivation solely as the operation of desire or passion, thus we have to consider the more refined version of Kieran Setiya and others (Setiya 2012b) which, by taking into consideration the analysis proposed by Thomas Nagel and Christine Korsgaard, is a better fit for the evaluation of Zhu Xi as well as for Confucianism in general. Setiya called their model, the Internalism about Reasons: The fact that p is a reason for A to φ only if A is capable of being moved to φ by the belief that p. (Setiya 2012a: 4)

In the famous example of seeing an innocent child about to fall into a deep well, we make the moral judgment that we should save the child; this is the reason that one would try everything to save the child. For Zhu Xi, we are internally moved by the alarm and commiseration of our heart/mind, grounded in the principles of our xing, such as ren. It is a call from our moral consciousness that places an unconditional command or duty upon us. It is obviously not something comes from desire, and certainly not selfish desires. Although this command may frequently go against our private or selfish interests or desires, it nonetheless motivates and commands us to fulfil it as our duty. We will feel regret if we do not fulfil the duty, especially when the child has fallen and died. Like Mencius, Zhu Xi would condemn anyone who does not respond to this call from our moral consciousness. It is clear that such a moral act is rooted in the internal moral structure of the heart/mind and our principles of xing. Hence, Zhu Xi’s theory is definitely an internalism. Zhu Xi’s theory easily fulfils the four conditions listed in the first section. First, it is a full-blown theory of moral cultivation and moral theory embedded in an internalist frame. It gives a very detailed analysis of the necessary connection between making a moral judgment and the motivation to act in accordance with the judgment, as they both come from the principle of our xing. It is internal to the agent. Second, it is clear that Zhu Xi’s internalism is very effective in the explanation of the diverse phenomena of both moral and immoral actions. Importantly, his moral theory and moral cultivation theory can secure the making of proper moral judgment and moral action. Thirdly, Zhu Xi recognizes that very often our moral motivation is not strong enough and may be overridden by other causes and desires. People who are apathetic or have anti-social personalities for example, may have strong immoral desires. Zhu Xi identifies them as examples of deviance and provides a method of remediation in moral cultivation. Lastly, the internalist motivation listed above clearly supports Zhu Xi’s theory. In fact, Zhu Xi and Confucianism in

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general provide a deeper understanding of our moral experience and development than other theories. If we rewrite Zhu Xi’s idea in terms of current terminology, we could say that a moral act is one that responds to our call of conscience which confers an unconditional duty upon ourselves to act—in this particular case the duty is to save the child. The consideration of other conditions, such as the troubles we may suffer, the delay of doing other things, etc., are all deemed irrelevant in comparison with the demand of this self-conferred duty. If we act as we are called upon to do, then it is a perfectly moral act made out of duty. If we act only after calculating the possible outcomes, such as whether the child’s parents are wealthy or powerful persons, whether there are witnesses, etc., our act at best only conforms with duty, but is not primarily driven by it. In the latter circumstances, we meet our call only because it satisfies our desires or interests. The saving of the child in this case would not be moral, as it is performed not for this self-conferred duty but for some other more mundane goals. It is worse yet if we just neglect the call altogether and let the child fall and die. In such a case, we are said to be totally against ren (buren 不仁) , that is, having no empathy for, nor commiseration with, the grave suffering of the child, and we will be condemned as not a human being at all. Here, Zhu Xi in fact shows a deeper understanding of morality in that it is bound closely with our inborn nature to be a moral being. The realm of morality is created or opened by the activation of our heart/mind and the principles of xing. In this, Zhu Xi and other Confucians recognize that we consider ourselves as a moral being through and through. The source of our morality, which bears great normative force upon us, is both self-identity and personal identity as a human being. For Zhu Xi, the respectfulness of our heart/mind is, in fact, a kind of reflexivity test, and the more it reflects, the more it endorses itself. It is comparable to Korsgaard’s idea of practical identity. Hence, the reason that motivates us to be moral is in fact an act of reflective endorsement (Korsgaard 1996: 89–121). According to internalism, the p and the motivational set must be statements of a situation that prompts us to action. The p is not a simple statement of fact or a situation; it must be a statement that asks for action in response. Zhu Xi’s analysis indicates that the motivational set must contain the source of action, whether or not the action itself is moral. For non-moral actions, we may need to recognize desire as a reason as well. For moral actions, the source of morality must be one of the factors in the motivational set, otherwise the agent—the heart/mind for Zhu Xi—may not be able to make the moral decision, and therefore to act morally. For Hume, this poses no problem because what motivates us is our moral sentiment, which is also the source of morality. For Williams, the outcome may not conform with the moral requirement as desire has no moral bearing and thus may lead to non-moral, even immoral, action. Hence, Williams’s model of moral internalism requires specification of the source of morality and its relationship with desire. Zhu Xi’s analysis leads us to understand both our moral situation and moral action better in that it furnishes us with a theory of moral cultivation that can explain how, if our desires are too strong and our moral cultivation underdeveloped, then even though our moral motivation is within our heart/mind itself, we may still deviate from our moral call.

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There are some additional points in Zhu Xi’s account of moral cultivation that are worthy of exploration. As the source and motivation comes from the principles of xing, he offers a reply to Michael Smith’s suggestion that there is no need for a fully rational example in his example model, not even his study model, because, the principles of xing is the rule and following its command is a moral act. A command issued from oneself is a motivation in itself. Thus, it establishes the claim that moral principles or reason is always motivational and that we can act just for the sake of being moral. This is a Confucian answer to the problem of “why be moral?”

8 Conclusion Though Zhu Xi’s philosophy and ethics may not follow the authority of Confucius and Mencius closely, it nonetheless maintains the basic structure of Confucianism. His system, as well as Confucianism in general, contains some salient elements that differ from all Western ethical systems. One of the most important features is that in our moral experience, reason and emotion are originally in union, in the heart/mind. The ethical analyses offered by Hume and Kant are biased—one toward emotion and the other toward reason—with the total separation of the two posited as a condition that underlies our moral experience, as well as the whole of our primordial experience with the world. The description of the union of reason and emotion in our moral judgment and motivation supports the layman’s simple and straightforward determination to act according to the call of our conscience and need no deep reflective training or speculation in acting as a virtuous person. This is simplified as acting out of our conscience or liangzhi 良知 and moral capability or liangneng 良能. Morality is a simple fact that is realized through and within the capacity of every human being and in everyday affairs. Another major difference from the West has to do with the ways with which to expand or cultivate the potential or capability of our inborn endowment, especially its morality. Zhu Xi’s analysis offers a practical approach to our understanding and realization of morality. It expresses the fact that the meaning and capability of our lives can extend far beyond confinement within our finite bodily lives and attachment to non-moral desires. Moral cultivation is the way to make morality actualized. It is, in a sense, the meaning of Mou Zongsan’s proposition that “though finite, human beings could be infinite,” and it is the core belief that Chinese philosophy, Confucianism, as well as Buddhism and Taoism, cherishes: it is the ultimate ideal we could hope for. Moral cultivation represents our efforts to improve our lives and to make them meaningful; it is the ultimate human concern. Taking inborn moral principles—as our xing and our moral heart/mind—as the source of morality, not only makes pure and true moral acts possible, but also endows every human life with dignity as an end-in-itself. It establishes the truth of why we should be moral, and offers the best answer in the search for the meaning and justification of internalism in ethics.

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References Björnsson, Gunnar, Fredrik Björklund, Caj Strandberg, John Eriksson, and Ragnar Francén Olinder, ed. 2015. Motivational Internalism. Oxford: University Press. (A collection of papers with a fairly well coverage of recent works on motivational internalism.) Darwall, Stephen, Allan Gibbard, and Peter Railton. 1992a, January. “Toward Fin de siècle Ethics: Some Trends.” The Philosophical Review 101: 115–89. Reprinted in Darwall, Gibbard, and Railton 1992b, 3–47. (This paper offers an overall view of the development of metaethics for the twentieth century.) ———, ed. 1992b. Moral Discourse and Practice: Some Philosophical Approaches. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1997. (it is one of the most comprehensive collections of essays on the development and issues of Western ethics for the last twenty years of the twentieth century.) Finlay, Stephen, and Mark Schroeder. 2017. “Reasons for Action: Internal vs. External.” Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy. First published on Sept. 4, 2008; substantive revision on Aug 18, 2017. URL.: https://plato.stanford.edu/entries/reasons-internal-external/ (As for “internalism,” this paper is heavily biased to a Humean model in total neglect of other models and it suffers many of those criticism against such a limited sense of internalism.) Korsgaard, Christine. 1992. “Skepticism about Practical Reason.” In Darwall, Gibbard, and Railton 1992b: 373–387. (A rebuttal of certain criticism of Kant.) ———. 1996. The Sources of Normativity. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. (This book offers well-documented essays on the problem and development of moral normativity in the West.) Lee, Shui Chuen 李瑞全. 1993. “Re-exmination of the Basic Pattern of Zhu Xi’s Moral Philosophy 朱子道德學形態之重檢.” In Philosophical Exploration of Contemporary Neo-Confucianism 當代新儒學之哲學開拓 (206–225). Taipei 臺北: Wenjin chubanshe 文津出版社. (This paper gives a comparative study of Zhu Xi and Kant, by comparing Zhu’s concepts of xin and xing with Kant’s concepts of wilhur (volition) and wille (will), and argues that both are homological and have a similar kinds of autonomous agency.) ———. 2013. On the Source of Moral Normativity of Confucianism 儒家道德規範根源論. New Taipei 新北: Legion Society 鵝湖月刊社. (It makes a critique of the tri-partition of reason, will and emotion in Western ethics tradition and argues for a unified theory of Confucianism and how it is true to our moral experience.) ———. 2014, September. “An Analysis of Zhu Xi’s Complex Development of His Early Stage of Moral Cultivation as Shown in Yanping’s Answers to Questions 從《延平答問》分析朱子 早期工夫實踐之糾結歷程.” In Journal of Chinese Philosophy and Culture 中國哲學與文化 14: 49–85, first read at the International Conference on Zhu Xi and Song-Ming Confucianism held in the Chinese University of Hong Kong in 2014. (This paper gives details of Zhu’s moral cultivation in his earlier years with an indication of moral cultivation as the key issue of Song– Ming Confucianism.) Mou, Zongsan 牟宗三. 1969. Xinti yu Xingti 心體與性體, vol. 3. Taipei 臺北: Ching Zhong Book Company 正中書局. (A Revolutionary and insightful analysis and explication of Song–Ming Confucianism.) Nagel, Thomas. 1992. “From the Possibility of Altruism.” In Darwall, Gibbard, and Railton 1992b: 323–340. (The paper is an excerpt from Possibility of Altruism [Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1978], a book that offers detailed explication of the problem and the argument of altruism.) Setiya, Kieran. 2012a. “Introduction: Internal Reasons.” In Setiya 2012b. (A good introduction to the problem and development of internalism and externalism.) ———. 2012b. Internal Reasons: Contemporary Readings. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press. (A good collection of papers on internal reasons and the issues of internal and externalism.) Tang, Junyi 唐君毅. 1975. On the Origin and Development of Chinese Philosophy: Of the Philosophical and Cultural Meaning of Teaching 中國哲學原論:原教篇. Hong Kong 香港:

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New Asia Research Institute 新亞硏究所. (A comprehensive and insightful explication of the major Song–Ming Confucians with a more or less moral cultivation point of view.) Williams, Bernard, 1981. “Internal and External Reasons.” In Moral Luck. New York: Cambridge University Press. (A path-breaking paper on the problem of internal and external reasons.) Zhu, Xi 朱熹. 1983. Classified Conversations of Master Zhu 朱子語類. Beijing 北京: Zhonghua Shuju 中華書局. ———. 1984. Annotations on the Four Books 四書章句集注. Taipei 臺北: Legion Society 鵝湖 月刊社. (A new and handy copy of the Analects with modern punctuation marks.) ———. 2002a. Zhuwengung’s [Zhu Xi] Collected Writings 朱文公文集. In vols. 20–25 of 2002b. ———. 2002b. The Complete Works of Master Zhu 朱子全書, Zhu Jeren 朱傑人, Yan Zuozhi 嚴佐之, and Liu Yongxiang 劉永翔, eds. Shanghai 上海: Shanghai guji chubanshe 上海古籍 出版社. Shui Chuen Lee is the director of the Research Center for Chinese Philosophy (under the Foundation for Academic Research on Oriental Humanities). He founded the curricula of applied ethics and contemporary interpretation of Chinese philosophy for the PhD program as well as the journal Applied Ethics Review when he was a professor and director of the Graduate Institute of Philosophy, National Central University. His research interest includes Contemporary NeoConfucianism, Confucian bioethics, Kant, and Hume.  

Chapter 38

Zhu Xi and the Debate between Virtue Ethicists and Situationists: Virtue Cultivation as a Possible, Practical, and Necessary Enterprise Yat-hung Leung

1 Introduction Despite revival, virtue ethics is subject to criticisms, most notably from situationism. Based on empirical findings, the situationists argue that only very few people possess virtues. Hence, virtue ethics that tells us to cultivate virtues is impractical as a normative ethics. Besides, explaining and predicting people’s behavior by using virtues, virtue ethics is descriptively inaccurate. Some defend virtue ethics against such situationist critique on the empirical level, questioning whether the findings can support the situationist claims.1 Some others focus on conceptual issues and accuse the situationists of missing the target.2 For instance, they challenge the situationist conceptions of virtue and character, as well as their understanding of the 1  For instance, some challenge the limitations of one-off studies (e.g., Fleming 2006: 26, 38; Sreenivasan 2002: 56; Doris 2002: 38). Some doubt that if the coefficient of 0.3 is really as insignificant as the philosophical situationists claim it to be (e.g., Slingerland 2011: 397). Some question the reliability of the experiments due to the quantities and the qualities of experiment subjects (e.g., Kamtekar 2004: 466, n.30; Prinz 2009: 130). Some suggest that there may be conflicting traits, thus the experiments failed to test the traits originally aimed at (e.g., Alfano 2013: 73; Doris 2002: 16). Some doubt that if the experiments were only testing for morally unimportant behavior (e.g., Sabini and Silver 2005: 540). Some doubt if the experiments can test for the traits, because the subjects and the experimenters may have different understanding of the traits in question or what traits are relevant in question (e.g., Sreenivasan 2002; Doris 2002: 76). Some are concerned with the ecological validity (e.g., Doris 2002: 35) and the replications of the experiments (e.g., Webber 2006: 653; Miller 2003: 392). 2  For examples, some accuse the situationist conception of virtue of being too narrow (e.g., Adams 2006; Besser-Jones 2014; Kamtekar 2004), and some defend that virtue ethics is not committed to the widespread existence of robust virtues (e.g., Athanassoulis 2000; Miller 2014).

Y.-h. Leung (*) Faculty of Arts and Humanities, University of Macau, Macau, People’s Republic of China e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2020 K.-c. Ng, Y. Huang (eds.), Dao Companion to ZHU Xi’s Philosophy, Dao Companions to Chinese Philosophy 13, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-29175-4_38

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nature of virtue ethics. Also, they contend that the situationist alternative is itself problematic. In this chapter, I focus on John Doris’s version of situationist critique and explicate the responses that Zhu Xi would have to defend virtue ethics. I argue that, while Zhu could accept Doris’s claim that very few people possess robust virtues, virtue cultivation is still possible, practical, and necessary. For Zhu, people do in some sense have certain (using Doris’s terms of art) “local traits” but not the global traits. Nevertheless, instead of merely seeking for situations conducive to ethically desirable behavior in light of the local traits in hand, the local traits can and should be extended to be global (or at least “less local”) traits because we have a good human nature. Situation management is important; but to effectively do so, inner management of oneself is indispensable. Studying Zhu’s view, we may also have an enriched understanding of the emulation model and advice model, which concern the use of the ideals of virtue or moral exemplars in ethical enterprise. I will first explicate the situationist critique of virtue ethics (Sect. 2). Next, I will illustrate Doris’s situationist alternative to virtue ethics, particularly his account of local traits and the redirection of ethical attention (Sect. 3) and the criticisms to them (Sect. 4). Then, I will bring in Zhu’s views (Sect. 5). I will further explain how and why virtue cultivation, for Zhu, is possible, practical, and in fact necessary (Sect. 6) and end with a conclusion (Sect. 7).

2 The Situationist Critique of Virtue Ethics Virtue ethics is a prominent approach in normative ethics that emphasizes virtues or moral characters of the agent that lead to a good life.3 Despite its revival in recent decades, it faces challenges from situationism. There have been studies on the influences of situation on people’s behavior since the 1960s.4 John Doris is one of the prominent philosophical situationists.5 They argue that since various experiments

 Virtue ethics can come in various forms. Although most contemporary virtue ethics are neoAristotelian, some develop alternatives by looking to David Hume, the Stoics, Nietzsche, John Dewey, and Confucianism. For introductions, see Crisp and Slote (1997), Russell (2013), Angle and Slote (2013). 4  For simplicity, I do not make a distinction between “behavior” and “action,” which may be important when discussing some issues on agency. Besides, I use “person” and “agent” interchangeably. 5  Another famous one is Gilbert Harman. The philosophical situationists are the philosophers drawing philosophical conclusions from psychological experiments. In this context, they are the ones who argue against the broad existence of virtues and emphasize the power of situations. They are to be differentiated with the psychologists in the situationist tradition, as they may have different interpretations of the same groups of empirical data, such as Walter Mischel (1968), who develops the cognitive-affective processing system (CAPS) theory, claiming that how a person acts depends upon how she interprets the situational factors and that there may be the relevant CAPS traits, which have the potential to be global traits (see Snow 2010: 11–13). 3

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show that only very few people possess virtues, virtue ethics that tells us to cultivate virtues is impractical as a normative ethics.6 Besides, explaining and predicting people’s behavior by using virtues, virtue ethics is descriptively inaccurate. More specifically, virtue ethics suffers from these problems as it relies on a problematic virtue theory, which Doris calls globalism.7 Globalism consists of three theses: (a) Consistency: “Character and personality traits are reliably manifested in traitrelevant behavior across a diversity of trait-relevant eliciting conditions that may vary widely in their conduciveness to the manifestation of the trait in question.” (Doris 2002: 22; emphasis added) For instance, if one has the virtue or robust trait of honesty, he will behave honestly in various situations where honesty is relevant. For example, he will not cheat on his wife, will report all his income to the government, will return extra change to the cashier, etc. (b) Stability: “Character and personality traits are reliably manifested in trait-relevant behaviors over iterated trials of similar trait-relevant eliciting conditions.” (Doris 2002: 22; emphasis added) For example, if one has the virtue or robust trait of honesty, one will return extra change in the supermarket, the cafeteria, the cinema, etc. over iterated occasions. (c) Evaluative integration: “In a given character or personality the occurrence of a trait with a particular evaluative valence is probabilistically related to the occurrence of other traits with similar evaluative valences.” (Doris 2002: 22) Namely, an honest person is more likely to be courageous, compassionate, etc. In short, globalism “construes personality as an evaluatively integrated association of robust traits” (Doris 2002: 23).8 The person possessing the trait is expected to “engage in trait-relevant behaviors in trait-relevant eliciting conditions with markedly above chance probability p” (Doris 2002: 19; emphasis original). However, various psychology experiments precisely show that seemingly insignificant situational factors can have significant impact on behavior and “are often better predictors of behavior than personal factors” (Doris 2002: 2); thus, “people  There has been the appeal to situationism in discussions on virtue ethics in the analytic tradition, such as Owen Flanagan (1991: 293–314), who suggests laypersons, psychologists, and moral philosophers to learn the lessons of situationist psychology (see Upton 2009: 107–8). However, the debate is on its height with the works of the philosophical situationists like Harman (1999, 2000, 2001, 2003, 2009), Doris (1998, 2002, 2010), Doris and Stich (2005) and the responses to them. 7  It is worth noting that “a virtue theory is a theory of what the virtues are, whereas virtue ethics holds the virtues to be central to a theory of the ethical evaluation of action. Virtue theory thus falls under the umbrella of moral psychology, and virtue ethics under normative ethics. To be sure, every virtue ethic must build on a virtue theory, but no virtue theorist—no one with a theory about the nature of the virtues—need for that reason be a virtue ethicist” (Russell 2009: ix). 8  Henceforth, I use “robust traits,” “traditional traits,” and “global traits” interchangeably. Besides, I take “virtue” or “moral character trait” as a kind of “character trait,” which belongs to the broader term of “trait.” 6

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typically lack character” (Doris 2002: 2). First, the variation in similar trait-eliciting situations is a factor leading to inconsistent behavior. A person may, say, act honestly in returning extra change in a supermarket but fail to act honestly when filing his income tax. The Hugh Hartshorne and Mark May (1928) study on honesty in children is famous on this kind of inconsistency. It tested the children by investigating their behavior in three honesty-relevant situations, namely, a stealing situation (taking the change on the table), a lying situation (making a false report), and a cheating situation (copying the answer key). The average correlation between the children’s not pocketing the change and their not making a false report was 0.13, which is thought as much lower than expected. Second, the seemingly insignificant situational, trait-irrelevant factors will significantly affect our behavior. Mark Alfano classifies these situational factors into “bad reasons” and “situational non-reasons” (see Alfano 2013: 40–50). Concerning the former, we should pay special attention to the insidious “situational demand characteristics,” which “comprise the subtle features of situations that either give people bad reasons without their realizing it or induce them to attend too much to bad reasons and too little to good reasons” (Alfano 2013: 41). For instance, in the experiment in Bibb Latané and Judith Rodin (1969), the subjects were asked to fill in a questionnaire. The experimenter stayed behind the curtain and interrupted the subjects by a loud crash, followed by the woman’s cries of pain, which was to make it appear that the woman was hurt behind the curtain. 70% of subjects offered help when they were doing the questionnaire or waiting in the room alone; but only 7% when the subject was accompanied by an unresponsive experiment confederate. Psychologists conjecture that the presence of the bystander will lead to the fear of embarrassment for the possible misinterpretation of the situation as one of emergency, the diffusion of responsibility, and so on (see Doris 2002: 32–33). Other examples include pressures from authority (e.g., Milgram 1974, 1977; see Doris 2002: 39–51), degree of hurry (e.g., Darley and Batson 1973; see Doris 2002: 33–34), and so on. Next, the “situational non-reasons” are “merely causal influences on moral conduct, and yet they are hugely and secretly influential” (Alfano 2013: 44). They include mood elevators and depressors, which may be some ambient sensibilia. For instance, ambient smells have a significant effect on helping behavior. Robert Baron (1997) shows that subjects offer more helping behavior when exposed to pleasant smells than to no smells, probably because the smells cause positive moods. Concerning the positive relation between positive moods and helping behavior, one oft-mentioned example is the “Telephone Booth Experiment” by Alice Isen and Paula Levin (1972). An experimental confederate was set to drop some paper in front of the telephone booth. The experiment variable was that some subjects, who finished using the phone, would find a dime planted in the phone’s coin return slot, whereas some other subjects would not. The experimental result shows that 87.5% of the subjects who found a dime help, whereas only 4% of the subject who did not find a dime help. Isen and Levin conjecture that finding the dime influenced the affective states and led to the helping behavior (see Isen and Levin 1972: 387). That is, a bit of good luck elevated subjects’ mood and it is usually thought that “feeling

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good leads to helping” (Doris 2002: 30). Besides, the volume of ambient sounds may influence both helping behavior. Kenneth E.  Matthews, Jr. and Lance Kirkpatrick Cannon (1975) find that fewer subjects were willing to help a confederate who dropped a belonging when background noise was at 85 dB than when at 65dB. Visual perception may also be one of those sensibilia. Zhong Chen-Bo et al. (2010) find that people are more inclined to cheat in a dimly lit room than a brightly light room. To reiterate, we have two kinds of variations: (1) the variation in similar traiteliciting situations, and (2) the variation in the same trait-eliciting situations caused by seemingly insignificant situational, trait-irrelevant factors. They measure two kinds of consistencies. This important distinction is highlighted in the debate between Gopal Sreenivasan (2002, 2008) and Jonathan Webber (2006), and I hold that Doris does keep an eye on both kinds of consistencies. Remember, if people do have the robust character trait, they should have behaved cross-situationally consistently, that is, they should not have been so easily affected by subtle situational features. Now, given that people’s behavior is easily affected by the subtle situational factors, it is suspected that they lack the trait.9 Doris thus claims that globalism is incorrect and urges us to replace it with situationism, whose “three central theoretical commitments” include the following: (a) Behavioral variation across a population owes more to situational differences than dispositional differences among persons. Individual dispositional differences are not so behaviorally individuating as might have been supposed; to a surprising extent it is safest to predict, for a particular situation, that a person will behave in a fashion similar to the population norm. (Doris 2002: 24) (b) Systematic observation problematizes the attribution of robust traits. People will quite typically behave inconsistently with respect to the attributive standards associated with a trait, and whatever behavioral consistency is displayed may be readily disrupted by situational variation. This is not to deny the existence of stability; the situationist acknowledges that individuals may exhibit behavioral regularity over iterated trials of substantially similar situations. (Doris 2002: 24–25) (c) Personality is not often evaluatively integrated. For a given person, the dispositions operative in one situation may have an evaluative status very different from those manifested in another situation; evaluatively inconsistent dispositions may “cohabitate” in a single personality. (Doris 2002: 25) The first and the third are against the consistency and evaluative integration theses held by globalism, whereas the second maintains the stability thesis with the qualification that the stability of certain behavior is the result of repetition of similar situations.

 Doris does not deny there are rare “pure types” or saints who really possess robust character traits (Doris 2002: 65). However, they are too rare to prevent virtue ethics from being impractical. 9

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Subsequently, Doris criticizes virtue ethics for its descriptive and normative (or practical) inadequacies. First, as we fail to see the cross-situational consistent behavioral pattern championed by globalism, the attributions of virtue cannot accurately explain or predict people’s behavior. In fact, when we attribute virtues to people who do not really have them, we commit what Doris calls “overattribution” (Doris 2002: 93).10 Second, as robust virtues are so rare, they are thought to be difficult to cultivate. Doris thus asks, “[T]o what extent does reflection on a few extraordinary individuals facilitate ethically desirable behavior? Or more broadly: what exactly are the practical advantages enjoyed by ideals of virtue?” (Doris 1998: 512). There has been the demand called “psychological realism,” which holds that normative theorizing should be constrained by an empirically adequate picture of human nature (see Flanagan 1991). That is, the normative ideal should be achievable for creatures with the psychology like ours. Normative ethics should conform or be sensitive to psychological researches. Now, as the robust traits are so difficult to obtain, virtue cultivation and thereby virtue ethics are impractical. Next, let us look at Doris’s alternative in detail.

3 Doris’s Account of Local Trait and the Redirection of Ethical Attention Doris’s substitution of globalism with situationism leads to the use of local traits for descriptive needs and a redirection of ethical attention.11

3.1 The Substitution of Global Traits with Local Traits First, Doris suggests using local traits to fulfill our daily need of descriptions and predictions of character or personality and behavior. Local traits are specific to situations and temporally stable to those situations, but lack cross-situational consistency (see Doris 2002: 25, 64). They can be “extremely fine-grained,” just like Doris’s examples: a person might be reliably helpful in iterated trials of the same situation (such as when she finds a dime in a mall phone booth and someone drops a pile of papers in her path), and reliably unhelpful in other, often surprisingly similar, circumstances (say when confronted with the same dropped papers when her search for change is disappointed). (Doris 1998: 507)

 Or what Harman calls “fundamental attribution error” (Harman 2003: 90).  Doris takes this substitution as a kind of ethical revisionism, which is “conservatively revisionary—problematizing only particular, and dispensable, features of ethical thought associated with characterological moral psychology” (Doris 2002: 108; emphasis original). 10 11

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He calls such a local trait “dime-finding-dropped-paper compassionate” (Doris 2002: 115).12 Local traits can “reflect dispositional differences among persons” (Doris 1998: 507) and thus can be used to explain and predict the person’s behavior without committing overattributions.13 Some scholars thus regard Doris’s urge to use the local traits as one of the prescriptive claims of situationism: “For both epistemological and ethical reasons, we should try to resist the use of global character and personality ascriptions when explaining and predicting behavior” (Rodgers and Warmke 2015: 15).

3.2 The Redirection of Ethical Attention: Situation Management A related move is the redirection of ethical attention from character development to situation management. The lesson that Doris draws from the situationist findings is that people are often too confident in our character and “many times their confidence in character is precisely what puts people at risk in morally dangerous situations” (Doris 2002: 147). Thus, “[r]eflection on situationism has an obvious benefit: It reminds us that the world is a morally dangerous place” (Doris 2002: 146). Doris gives us an example: Imagine that a colleague with whom you have had a long flirtation invites you for dinner, offering enticement of interesting food and elegant wine, with the excuse that you are temporarily orphaned while your spouse is out of town. Let’s . . . assume further that you regard the infidelity that may result as an ethically undesirable outcome. . . . [I]f you take the lessons of situationism to heart, you avoid the dinner like the plague, . . . you simply doubt your ability to act in conformity with this value [i.e., fidelity] once the candles are lit and the wine begins to flow. (Doris 2002: 147)

In this case, one may overestimate the robustness of one’s trait of fidelity and underestimate the danger of the situation. Perhaps one’s fidelity is more local than one thinks of and only amounts to, say, “having-dinner-with-an-opposite-sex-colleague-in-a-public-restaurant-without-being-drunk fidelity.”14 One may not have the robust virtue of fidelity.15 Subsequently, Doris suggests that, “Rather than striving to develop characters that will determine our behavior in ways substantially independent of circumstance, we should invest more of our energies in attending to the features of our environment  Note that this term of art of Doris does not have a hyphen before the original virtue term.  By allowing the possibility of local traits that are “associated with important individual differences in behavior,” Doris’s situationism “does not entail an unqualified skepticism about the personological determinants of behavior” and is thereby not a Skinnerian behaviorism (see Doris 2002: 25). 14  It is my elaboration following Doris’s train of thought. 15  Another example that Doris provide is that one can be “sailing-in-rough-weather-with-one’sfriends courageous” but not (robustly or globally) “courageous” (Doris 2002: 115). 12 13

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that influence behavioral outcomes” (Doris 2002: 146; emphasis added). We should seek for situations conducive to moral behavior and avoid situations conducive to immoral behavior. Hagop Sarkissian thus calls it the “seek/avoid strategy” (Sarkissian 2010: 4). Apart from the above dinner example, Doris suggests that, “The recovering alcoholic is better able to stay sober if she cultivates relationships with sober people and stays out of bars, whether or not she undergoes a characterological sea-change” (Doris 2002: 120). The seek/avoid strategy can go hand in hand with the local trait account. For instance, those who have the trait like “smelling-aromatic-coffee compassionate” can try to place themselves more often in such places to induce helping behavior.16 In short, we should shift our ethical attention from the concern of character to situational features. Doris also highlights a technical aspect involved in such a seek/avoid strategy, namely, we should try hard to make a proper decision in the relatively “cooler” deliberative context (e.g., considering whether to attend the dinner) rather than putting ourselves into “hot zones” (e.g., consider whether to resist the romance in the dinner). That is, we have “a sort of ‘cognitive responsibility’ to attend, in our deliberations, to the determinative features of situations” (Doris 1998: 517). In other words, Doris suggests the strategy of “self-manipulation” and criticizes “brinkmanship” (Doris 2002: 149). In addressing the responses that the virtue ethicists would have to his proposed redirection, Doris brings out two models of ideas of virtue that may facilitate ethically desirable behavior. This in turn helps shed light on the situationist ethical enterprise. Let us first look at what brings the two models about. As Doris conjectures, the virtue ethicist may “grant that a situationist account of personality is often the most effective descriptive psychology for guiding our deliberations, since it will increase our sensitivity to ethical risk,” while still maintaining that we should emulate a virtuous exemplar if we are to lead to ethically desirable behavior (Doris 2002: 149). Now, Doris comes to evaluate if this is true (see Doris 2002: 150–51). Here, he introduces two models of understanding the ideals of virtue, namely, the emulation model, “which urges us to approximate the psychology and behavior of the moral exemplar,” and the advice model, “where deliberation involves consulting the advice of the ideally virtuous agent” (Doris 2002: 150). Doris thinks that virtue ethics involves “emulation of the virtuous rather than merely consulting their advice regarding particular behaviors” (Doris 2002: 151); however, he basically supports the advice model but not the emulation model. He gives an analogy between this distinction in the discussion of practical rationality and in virtue ethics. Referring to Michael Smith (1995)’s example, Doris says: Suppose that my fully rational self would shake his opponent’s hand after losing a hard game of squash. But my actual self, in his actual circumstances, will likely beat his opponent about the head in a fit of rage if he attempts to do the sportsmanlike thing. However, if he forces a grin and immediately departs the scene without shaking hands, no such calamity will ensue. . . . What my fully rational self would deem rational for my actual self is in part determined by the actual condition of my actual self. (Doris 2002: 150) 16

 See the experiment in Baron (1997) quoted on Doris (2002: 31). The trait is my suggestion.

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The analog in virtue ethics is that “[t]he guidance of the ideally virtuous advisor, like the fully rational self, must take into account the circumstances and capacities of actual, less-than-fully-virtuous agents in determining what they should do” (Doris 2002: 150). The point is that although the ideally virtuous advisor could themselves, say, attend the aforementioned dangerous dinner without risk, an ordinary person could not. Doris explains that “[b]ecause the actual persons typically cannot attain, or closely approximate, the psychology of an ideally virtuous agent, they cannot, in many instances, safely pursue the course the ideal agent would favor for herself” (Doris 2002: 150). So, emulation in some cases “could have disastrous results” (Doris 2002: 150). Accordingly, Doris claims that what effective deliberation requires is advice based on the best understanding of our situational liabilities, and this understanding will be aided by familiarity with the deliverances of situationism. Then if consultation with the ideally virtuous advisor is to help secure desirable conduct, the ideally virtuous advisor must be a situationist psychologist—reference to situationism is here practically indispensable. (Doris 2002: 150–51; emphasis added)

Doris then supposes that virtue theorists “should favor some combination of the advice and emulation models” (Doris 2002: 151) and highlights that “[e]thical emulation is not slavish imitation” (Doris 2002: 151) as one need not follow the moral exemplar in every respect and sometimes we need some other ways to secure ethical behavior. Nevertheless, “if emulation is to be selective, this selectivity requires reference to situationism” (Doris 2002: 151). In brief, situation management consulting the situationist findings is the focus of ethical endeavors. Thus, some scholars take it as the second prescriptive claim of situationism that: “If we desire to affect behavioral outcomes more in line with our values, we should, in our first-person deliberation, attend more to the determinative features of situations and less to the putative robustness of our characters” (Rodgers and Warmke 2015: 17). Next, let us introduce the criticisms to Doris’s alternative.

4 Criticisms to Doris’s Local Trait Account and the Redirection of Ethical Attention Some scholars point out the conceptual and practical problems of Doris’s alternative. Conceptually, first, either a local trait is not a trait at all but merely a single occurrence or it is still quite a broad trait, which after all includes abstraction or generalization, and does not fare much better than the global trait (see Slingerland 2011: 399). Second, the local trait changes the essence of a virtue, leading to theoretical costs. As Mark Alfano points out, each virtue distinguishes itself from other virtues by its characteristic reason. For instance, generosity appeals to the needs of other, and courage appeals to threats to valued object and ends (Alfano 2013: 65–66). However, local traits “are individuated by both their characteristic reasons and the normatively irrelevant causal powers of the situation” (Alfano 2013:

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66). The consistency condition of a virtue (which only appeals to reason) will have to be modified, and we will miss something we normally think important for a virtue. Consider Julia Annas’s example of the inconsistent Mary, who is respectful to colleagues but not to waiters, shop assistants and soccer coaches (see Annas 2005: 640). If Mary is “respectful to people whose opinions she needs to take account of, and disrespectful to people whose opinion she can safely ignore,” we do not think that she is respectful to her colleagues at all, for “[s]he does not, we say, understand what respect really is” (Annas 2005: 640). That is, it sounds more reasonable that Mary does not grasp and act on the characteristic reason of “respect” and does not really deserve the attribution of “colleague respectful” at all. The local trait account thus fails to consider what we think is important for a virtue.17 Third, the accessibility is threatened (since there are too many traits that we cannot possibly determine what they are) (see Alfano 2013: 66). The redirection of our ethical attention is also conceptually problematic, for there seem to be some inconsistencies or tensions between the situationist theses. Travis J.  Rodgers and Brandon Warmke point out that, when suggesting us to “attend more to the determinative features of situations and less to the putative robustness of our characters” in our first-person deliberation (Rodgers and Warmke 2015: 17), the situationists will have to admit that it is possible to have the ability to choose the situation conducive to moral behavior; and if such ability and disposition imply a global trait, it repudiates their claim that the global traits are rare and impractical to cultivate. Besides, practically, the adoptions of local traits and the seek/avoid strategy have limited effectiveness on moral cultivation and lead to an unappealing account of moral progress. First, local traits are so narrow, making habituation implausible. As Neera K. Badhwar notes that the idea that someone can have the stand-alone trait of dime-finding-dropped-paper-compassion is dubious in its own right. For habituation in virtue requires practice, and it is highly unlikely that anyone could have frequently enough run into a paper-dropper after unexpectedly finding a dime to have become habituated in dime-finding-dropped-papercompassion. (Badhwar 2009: 277, n. 40)

The habituation or practice of the unduly fine-grained local traits itself seems impossible. Besides, as Sarkissian suggests, “certain relationships or situations, even if known to elicit undesirable behavior, may nonetheless be practically unavoidable” (Sarkissian 2010: 5). Second, “while it is never a good idea to enter compromising situations blindly, one’s ethical commitments may require exposing oneself to less than ideal situations and less than virtuous persons” (Sarkissian 2010: 5). The seek/avoid strategy is passive and limited in operation. Third, as Xiaomei Yang suggests, “people sometimes choose to be in morally dangerous situations because of temptation rather than the confidence in their own

 See also Xiaomei Yang’s comment: “Local traits are not what we would admire and be aspired to develop if they are only situation-sensitive and insensitive to what we truly value. It is not clear whether local traits are reason- and value-based inner dispositions” (Yang 2016: 152). 17

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character” (Yang 2016: 153); and “the effective ethical management on nonmoral but possibly and indirectly related to moral deliberation itself may rely on developing certain good traits or dispositions” (Yang 2016: 153). Efficient situation management depends on one’s determination to be moral at the first place and his resolution thereafter; and the very determination and resolution are doubtlessly inner good qualities of the agents. It is not clear how these qualities can be created by the seek/ avoid strategy alone. Fourth, since the local traits under this strategy are only accommodated to lead to morally desirable outcomes, they are not expected and thereby can hardly, if ever, be broadened, not to say become global.18 But if so, we will have to accept a limited sense of moral progress, namely, a more efficient playing of the seek/avoid game. In short, while Doris’s alternative aims to cope with the situationist findings, it has some other problems. Let us see how Zhu’s philosophy can do a better job.

5 Zhu’s Responses to Doris’s Local Trait Account and the Redirection of Ethical Attention 5.1 Zhu’s Outlook on Virtue and Virtue Extension I argue that, while Zhu could accept Doris’s claim that very few people possess robust virtues, virtue cultivation is still possible, practical, and necessary. For Zhu, people do in a sense have, using Doris’s terms of art, the “local traits.” However, Zhu thinks that human nature is good and everyone has the bright virtue, which is inherently global and becomes local only because of human desires. Accordingly, Zhu, unlike Doris, who suggests merely seeking for situations conducive to ethically desirable behavior according to the local traits in hand, urges us to extend the local traits, making them global, or at least “less local.”19 On the one hand, Zhu knows well that it is difficult to cultivate the virtues that constitute the Confucian ideal personhoods, say, the good men (shanren 善人) or the gentlemen (junzi 君子), let alone the highest level, namely, sages (shengren 聖 人).20 As we will see, ordinary people have the difficult task to transform their turbid vital forces (qi 氣) with which they are endowed so as to be moral (see Zhu 1986: [113] 2738, [121] 2944). Indeed, Zhu often complains that people nowadays (jinren

 Doris may reply that as it is so difficult to acquire virtues, it is not worth risking bad consequences of moral failure to broaden our local traits. 19  Most of the quotations in this chapter are from The Topically Arranged Conversations of Master Zhu (Zhuzi Yulei 朱子語類) (Zhu 1986). I include the year, the volume (juan 卷) number (in the ancient sense), and the page number when I quote it. For instance, Zhu 1986: [16] 896 stands for Zhuzi Yulei, volume 16, page 896. For other Zhu’s texts, I just quote as usual. The translations are my own unless otherwise specified. 20  See Zhu (1986: [34] 896) and the Analects 7.26 in Lau (2000: 62) for the distinction. 18

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今人) fail to be moral (see Zhu 1986: [5] 89, [76] 1949).21 On the other hand, Zhu accepts Doris’s view that ordinary people in some sense have certain local traits. Let us consider the following example: It is just like the case that when King Xuan of Qi saw the ox shrinking with fear, he had the heart-mind which cannot bear [to see the suffering of the others] (buren zhi xin 不忍之心) aroused and thus substituted the ox with a lamb. This is where [he] saw [his] compassion (ceyin 惻隱), but this seeing was just not complete. When it came to “starting a war, imperiling the officials,” he joyfully wanted to do so. His seeing was not accurate. He failed to extend (tui 推) his heart-mind which loves the ox to love the people. (Zhu 1986: [14] 263; see Mencius 1A.7 in Lau 2003: 14–22)

The King was compassionate to (or showed his compassion to) the ox but failed to be (to do) so to the lamb and the people.22 Although we lack textual evidence that the King would behave in the same way next time when he saw another ox walking in the hall, let us assume that he would. Besides, it was obvious that the King constantly triggered wars and neglected the welfare of the people (see Mencius 1B.10, 1B.11 in Lau 2003: 44–46). Traditionally or normally, then, we say that the King had the trait or virtue of compassion to the ox, but indifference to the lamb, the officials, and the people. Zhu might agree that, using Doris’s terms of art, the King may have the trait or virtue approximately named as “seeing-an-ox-shrinking-withfear-in-the-hall compassion,” as well as the traits or vices of “lamb indifference,” “officials indifference,” and “people indifference,” or, somehow obstinately, the traits or vices of “not-seeing-the-lamb indifference,” “not-seeing-the-officials indifference,” and “not-see-the-people indifference.” Here we need to note the two types of variations mentioned in Sect. 2 which lead to inconsistent behavior. In King Xuan’s case, the first was the variation in the objects, namely, the ox, the lamb, the officials, and the people, who were all in need of compassion. The king was compassionate to the ox but not the rest of them. The second was the variation which was trait-irrelevant, namely, the variation in the King’s seeing the objects or not.23 The objects’ being out of his sight was not a good  Indeed, as Eric Hutton points out, “although Confucians take robust character traits such as ren as their ethical ideal, they also clearly do not expect that many people have achieved or will achieve this ideal” (Hutton 2006: 43). Zhu is no exception. 22  It is not clear if the King had shown empathy for the ox, since he did not mention that he felt the ox’s pain apart from being unbearable to that pain. 23  Concerning this second point, there can be two implications in this example. In a more direct reading, seeing certain groups of objects or not will affect the King’s being compassionate to them or not. One of the Zhu’s comments seems to express this: “The only thing is that seeing the ox in front of him, the [King’s] heart-mind [of compassion] was triggered; whereas it is not so when it came to those that were not seen” (Zhu 1986: [53] 1292). However, there can be another reading which is with a reasonable qualification. Originally, in order to test for the variable, i.e., “(the subject’s) seeing (the object) or not” in this case, the object(s) should remain the same so as to set up the control. In the above example, the objects of the King’s not seeing were different (i.e., ox and lamb). Nevertheless, the King declared that his substitution of the ox with a lamb was not because of the latter’s being cheaper but because he was unbearable to the ox’s suffering (see 21

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reason for him to not show his compassion. Adopting Doris’s way of analysis, thus, the King’s inconsistency of compassion consisted of these two kinds of variations. Both the differences in objects and his seeing the objects or not accounted for the localness of his trait of compassion. However, Zhu, unlike Doris, who suggests situation management so as to accommodate the local traits and not to work on the local traits per se, urges us to extend the traits and make them robust virtues.24 Before looking at Zhu’s methods for extending the local virtues (Sect. 5.2), we have to understand his views on virtue and human nature, with a particular attention that how the localness and the globalness of virtue would be comprehended. For Zhu, in fact, all the so-called (local) traits are inherent in every human being and are “originally global,” which can be regarded as a single virtue, namely, the bright virtue (mingde 明德).25 Therefore, from another perspective, such an extension can be taken as a recovery process. He says, “human beings originally have this bright virtue; and within the virtue there are benevolence (ren 仁), righteousness (yi 義), propriety (li 禮), and wisdom (zhi 智)” (Zhu 1986: [14] 262). As he gives a positive answer to someone’s question: “Is the bright virtue the nature (xing 性) of benevolence, righteousness, propriety, and wisdom?” (Zhu 1986: [14] 260), the bright virtue can in a sense represent our human nature. The term virtue has the Chinese word de 德 as its closest counterpart. In the Chinese tradition, it means “attainment” (de 得).26 Zhu succeeds this exposition and highlights the point of “attaining for oneself” (de yu ji 得於己) (Zhu 1986: [74] 1883): Mencius 1A.7 in Lau 2003: 16). If it was true, then the object could be taken as an animal in general. Then, whether the King’s being compassionate to the same object was merely affected by the variable of the King’s seeing and not seeing the object. In other words, the second reading fxes the object while the frst reading does not. 24 Here, it is not clear how Doris’s seek/avoid strategy can help facilitate moral behavior. Following the seek/avoid strategy, then, what the King should do will strangely involve these: Concerning the “seek” side, he was to see more often the suffering of the oxen so as to be able to have his compassion aroused and thus to act morally (to save them; let us leave aside the aftermath). This seems diffcult and meaningless, as Badhwar suggests that the occasions for practicing the dime-fndingpaper-dropped compassion are rare and such a narrow trait is not signifcant in life (see Badhwar 2009: 226–27). Concerning the “avoid” side, it is not useful to remind the King that his compassion was so limited and he should then not overestimate his compassion. Besides, it is puzzling that how he could prevent from being indifferent by avoiding “not-seeing” (weijian 未見) the lamb, the offcials, and the people (that is, by “seeing so”), although it was precisely the “not-seeing” that Mencius used to explain King’s indifference to the lamb. In fact, the globalness of compassion is what Mencius wants the King to have and he is trying to persuade the King that he did have it. However, Mencius’s analogy of the King’s ability to feel compassion for the ox and the ability to do so for the lamb is precisely challenged by the situationists and awaits proving. Another consideration is that, perhaps fundamentally, “not-seeing” is a dubious predicate of the trait. In any case, the seek/avoid strategy has a limited use. 25 This term appears in the Great Learning. 26 For instance, the “Record of Music” in the Book of Rites reads “virtue means attainment” (dezhe deye 德者, 得也) (Sun 1989: 982).

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The way (dao 道) is the common li 理 to be followed from the ancient to now.27 It is just as the kindness (ci 慈) of the father, the filial piety (xiao 孝) of the son, the benevolence of the king, the loyalty (zhong 忠) of the minister are one common li. Virtue means one’s attaining the way in the sense that one embodies it. Thus, that the king must be benevolent and that the minister must be loyal are what attained by oneself; it is what is meant [by the way and the virtue.] . . . Virtue means fully attaining the way by oneself. (Zhu 1986: [13] 231–32)

This passage shows that the substantial content of the virtues is the way, which is nothing but li. Here, Zhu succeeds Cheng Yi’s 程頤 idea of “li is one but things have different dues” (li yi fen shu 理一分殊) (see Zhu 1986: [6] 99, [18] 398).28 The due of the son is to be filial and the due of the minister is to be loyal. The due can be as broad as the one like benevolence that is manifested as compassion, which is the response we as ordinary people ought to have to others’ suffering (see Zhu 1986: [14] 263). When the due is fulfilled, that name of the due can be taken the virtue. In other words, the virtues have their relevant characteristic reasons, objects, and/or occasions. Given that there being the one single li and its manifestations is parallel to there being the one single bright virtue and its manifestations, all the virtues are really “one, unified whole, just as li is ultimately a unified, all-encompassing whole” (adapted from Angle 2015: 259), namely, benevolence. Here the two senses of benevolence are to be noted. Like in the Classical Confucianism, benevolence has its broad and narrow senses. For the narrow sense, it basically manifests as compassion as mentioned above. It is one of the four cardinal virtues, with the other three righteousness, propriety, and wisdom (see Zhu 1986: [14] 262), which allow us to have shame and dislike (xiuwu 羞惡), deference and compliance (cirang 辭讓), and feeling of right and wrong (shifei 是非) respectively (see Zhu 1986: [4] 63–64). For the broad sense, benevolence is the comprehensive virtue in that it encompasses and is the ground for all other virtues.29 He says, “The hundred virtues are derived from benevolence, righteousness, propriety, and wisdom” (Zhu 1986: [6] 107). He also says, “Speaking in an integral sense, benevolence is throughout a life-giving vitality (shengyi 生意). Righteousness, propriety, and wisdom are all benevolence. When speaking side by side, they are of the same [standing]” (Zhu 1986: [6] 107).30 Then, the bright virtue, which has benevolence as its essence, is global in the sense that it can be manifested in all situations necessary for morality. Also, we can thereby say that an action is moral or virtuous if and only if it is benevolent. Besides, the saying “Virtue means one’s attaining the way in the sense that one embodies it” in the above passage reveals the stability of manifestation. Zhu says, “If one is loyal today,

 Li is sometimes rendered as “principle” (e.g., Chan 1963; J.  Liu 2017), “pattern” (e.g., Shun 2010, 2013; Angle and Tiwald 2017), or “coherence” (e.g., Angle 2009). Given its complexity, I leave it untranslated. 28  This translation is adapted from JeeLoo Liu’s “principle is one but things have different dues” (J. Liu 2017: 91). 29  It is just as benevolence in the Analects is sometimes listed among other virtues like wisdom, but sometimes in “a broader sense of an all-encompassing ethical ideal” (Shun 2002: 53; see also Angle 2009: 54). 30  Zhu emphasizes that benevolence has the life-giving vitality (e.g., Zhu 1986: [5] 85). Unfortunately, I cannot go into detail here. 27

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but not tomorrow, then one has not attained it in oneself, and this cannot be called virtue” (Zhu 1986: [34] 867). Now we are told that people originally have the robust and global virtue(s). That being the case, why does the original robust and global bright virtue (that is manifested as different robust virtues) become merely “local virtues”? Zhu explains it in terms of the vital forces (qi 氣) that block the full manifestation of the bright virtue. The picture of morality is demonstrated when we understand Zhu’s notion of the heart-mind (xin 心). In his view, everything comes into existence in virtue of both the li and the vital forces: “For human beings and things to be born, they must be endowed with the li to have the nature, and must be endowed with the vital forces to take shape (xing 形)” (Zhu 2000: 2798; see also Zhu 1986: [4] 65). While li is the pattern or principle that signifies the ways in which the actions should be taken, or the states in which the things should be, vital forces are those of which the world is made (see Zhu 1986: [4] 61, [4] 65, [4] 66). The human nature with the bright virtue is good. However, the manifestation of the bright virtue relies on the heart-mind, for it is the heart-mind that represents our agency. Zhu describes the heart-mind as the master of the whole person (see Zhu 1986: [20] 464).31 Ever since his “New Doctrine on Equilibrium and Harmony” (zhonghe xinshou 中和新說), Zhu has confirmed the tripartite division of the heart-mind, nature, and emotions (qing 情) and the view that “the heart-mind encompasses nature and emotions” (xin tong xin qing 心統性 情) (see e.g., Zhu 1986: [5] 91–93, [53] 1285).32 Under this view, the heart-mind can grasp the li, which is inherent in human nature (e.g., Zhu 1986: [5] 88), and respond with emotional propensities (e.g., Zhu 1986: [4] 67, [16] 323, [98] 2514; see Shun 2013: 67). In other words, the heart-mind has the aforementioned virtuous nature as its substance (see Zhu 1986: [5] 89) and is thus inherently able to act virtuously on all occasions: “The capacity of this heart-mind originally includes the heaven and earth and benefits the myriad things” (Zhu 1986: [53] 1294). However, one may be endowed with turbid vital forces that lead the heart-mind astray. He gives us an analogy, “The human nature is originally bright. Just as a pearl sunk into the turbid water, its brightness is not seen. If the turbid water is removed, the pearl is still bright” (Zhu 1986: [12] 207; see also Zhu 1986: [4] 73, [14] 261, [117] 2808). The turbid vital forces will lead to selfish desires (siyu 私欲) that block that brightness of our nature and divert us from the right path, just as the turbid water blocks the shininess of the pearl (see also Zhu 1986: [4] 66, [4] 68, [13] 228–29, [14] 264, [16]

 Liu Shu-hsien 劉述先 takes the heart-mind as the pivot of Zhu’s philosophy (see Liu S. 1995: 230–68). 32  While some render it as “the heart/mind controls the nature and feeling” (Berthrong 2010: 162); “heart-mind unites nature and emotions” (Angle and Tiwald 2017: 83), I adopt this translation from Liu (2017: 132), for I think the verb “encompass” for tong 統 has a higher potential to include the meanings of “to include both . . .” (jian 兼) (see Zhu 1986: [98] 2513) and “control or command” (zuzai 主宰) (see Zhu 1986: [98] 2513). 31

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334).33 That is, the heart-mind is in its state of “the heart-mind of men” (renxin 人 心) when what it apprehends is human desires, is in its state of “the heart-mind of the way” (daoxin 道心) when what it apprehends is the li (see Zhu 1986: [62] 1487). It is in the sense that the heart-mind chooses to act on human desires that the bright virtue is blocked, making its manifestation limited or local. When the selfish desires are eliminated, the bright virtue will shine forth globally, as Zhu says, Human beings originally have this bright virtue, and there are benevolence, righteousness, propriety, and wisdom within the virtue. It is only because of being drown into and thereby hidden in the external maters that it is spoiled. . . . If one can learn, then one can be aware of this bright virtue, always preserves it and then “scratches” (guati 刮剔) it so as to avoid it from being obscured (bi 蔽) by the material desires. When it is extended to serve one’s father, it is filial piety. When it is extended to serve one’s emperor, it is loyalty. (Zhu 1986: [14] 262)

That is, removing the blockage that comes from selfish desires means extending the virtues; and Zhu urges us to do so. He says, “There is no one who cannot feel compassion [for other’s suffering]. They just fail to always do so” (Zhu 1986: [53] 1288; emphasis added) and “It is only because of people’s not fulfilling completely its capacity that it is not extended” (Zhu 1986: [53] 1294). King Xuan failed to show his compassion to the people not because of his “not being able” (bu neng 不能) but his “not willing” (bu ken 不肎) to do so (Zhu 1983: 209).34 He thinks that “even the occurrences of the small awakening (jieran  zhi  jue 介然之覺) are incessant and countless in daily life. The only thing is that people must recognize them, extend (kuochong 擴充) them, and preserve (cunyang 存養) them” (Zhu 1986: [17] 376).35 He stresses the importance of extension and perseverance of the heart-mind and thereby the virtues:36 One should enlarge and release from here and scatter it [i.e., the heart-mind of compassion] out. This is what is called to extend. Consider the heart-mind that is compassionate toward the child about to fall into the well. What can such a bit achieve? If it is not extended, when it is manifested today, it is over; when it is manifested tomorrow, it is over; and they are all idle (xian 閒). If it can be extended, one discovers from a single thing that it is the heartmind of compassion and that is benevolence, then, one extends this heart-mind to other things and makes everything benevolent. (Zhu 1986: [53] 1292)

 Apart from selfish desires, Zhu also talks about “material desires” (see Zhu 1986: [12] 202, [37] 982). As Kwong-loi Shun notes, “Presumably the two notions refer to the same psychological elements but with different emphases, the latter emphasizing the attractive force of external things and the former the lack of regulation of one’s likes and dislikes on the part of humans” (Shun 2013: 81). Besides, while Zhu uses “human desires” (renyu 人欲) to mean the desire for food when hungry and for clothing when cold, which can be morally neutral (see Zhu 1986: [78] 2009), more often he uses it in a pejorative sense as selfish desires, especially when he contrasts it with heavenly li (see Zhu 1986: [12] 207, [13] 224). 34  肎 ken is equivalent to 肯 ken. 35  I take tui 推 and kuochong 擴充 to be equivalent and they can be rendered as “to extend” or “to push.” 36  Given the aforementioned Zhu’s picture of human nature and virtue, “extending the virtues,” “extending the heart-mind of compassion,” “extending the compassion,” and “extending the benevolence” are denoting the different aspects of the same thing. 33

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Here we can see again the two requisites of a global virtue, namely, stability and cross-situational consistency, as Zhu emphasizes that the virtues are to be manifested every day and in different kinds of event. Otherwise, they are idle and useless. In short, in a sense, for Zhu, one’s “local virtue” are to be extended. However, in the sense that the virtues are originally robust and complete as the single bright virtue, the bright virtue can be said to be recovered.37 Let us turn to see how cultivation is done.

5.2 Zhu’s Methods of Virtue Extension Zhu’s cultivation, namely, the extension of local virtues to global virtues, thus relies on the elimination of the selfish desires that block the manifestation of the bright virtue. I agree with the general view that this involves two fundamental aspects or directions, namely, the inner management of the heart-mind’s activities and the inquiry to regain knowledge of li (see Shun 2010, 2013; cf. J. Liu 2017: 227). I will explain these two aspects and highlight how they help us perform better when we face the two kinds of variations that lead to the localness of virtues. Concerning the inner management, one is to be serious (jing 敬) whether one is dealing with the affairs or is without any specific object. Seriousness, or, as JeeLoo Liu puts it, “reverence,” is “a mental state that naturally manifests itself in outward appearance and conduct” (J. Liu 2017: 236).38 Seriousness implies one’s being fearful (wei 畏) (see Zhu 1986: [6] 103), being “in a state of alertness and clear-­ headedness” (xingxing 惺惺) (see Zhu 1986: [12] 208);39 and one will avoid wandering (zouzuo 走作) (see Zhu 1986: [12] 214) or being presumptuous (fangsi 放肆) (see Zhu 1986: [6] 103). In other words, one will be focused on one thing (zhuyi 主一) (see Zhu 1986: [96] 2464). Zhu says, “When there is no affair, the seriousness is within oneself. When there is an affair, the seriousness is on the affair. Whether there is or is not any affair, my seriousness has never been broken off” (Zhu 1986: [12] 213). Seriousness is thus said to “penetrate” (guan 貫) the active (dong 動) (that is, when dealing with affairs) and the quiet (jing 靜) (that is, when not dealing with affairs) states. Seriousness is important for being virtuous. An oftmentioned analogy by Zhu is that Seriousness is the guardian of the doors, and restraining oneself (keji 克己) is to ward off the thieves. To extend one’s knowledge is to investigate the things within and without the household. . . . For seriousness can win over the hundred evils and it naturally restrain [the evils.] . . . That the door is well guarded will mean the same thing as warding off the thieves, and there is no need to talk of the latter. . . . Therefore, if one is serious, there is no self to be restrained. (Zhu 1986: [9] 151)

 That is why Philip J. Ivanhoe classifies Zhu’s cultivation as the recovery model: Zhu comes to see self-cultivation “as the recovery or release of this ‘original nature’ by refining one’s imperfect and obscuring ‘material nature’” (Ivanhoe 2000: 46; emphasis original). 38  Daniel K. Gardner render it as “attentiveness” (see e.g., Gardner 1990: 89). 39  This translation is by Liu (2017: 235). 37

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As JeeLoo Liu explains, the state of seriousness can enable one’s heart-mind to be free of those distracting desires and one’s heart-mind would become clear and can manifest the heavenly li (see J. Liu 2017: 236). Besides, Zhu also ask us to be “cautious about ‘what others do not know about but oneself alone knows about’” (shendu 慎獨) (see Zhu 1986: [24] 567). As Kwong-loi Shun explains, du 獨 “has to do with the incipient activities of the heart/mind that others do not know about, and shendu involves one’s cautiously attending to such activities”; and shendu “serves both to prevent [the incipient activities] from going astray and to correct them as soon as they start going astray” (Shun 2013: 82–83).40 Another aspect of cultivation concerns the “inquiry to regain the knowledge of li that has been lost” (Shun 2013: 84). For Zhu, as mentioned, li is inside the heartmind (see Zhu 1986: [5] 88, [5] 94, [9] 154, [9] 155, [24] 578, [32] 824, [78] 1983, [87] 2262). But the selfish desires will block the li and it is in this sense that we have lost the li (see Zhu 1986: [4] 68, [13] 228–29, [14] 264). To regain it, we are to “reach out to the things and extend our knowledge” (gewu zhizhi 格物致知), an idea appears in the Great Learning.41 Zhu takes ge 格 to mean “arriving at” (zhi 至) (Zhu 1986: [15] 283) and wu 物 as things or affairs (shi 事) (Zhu 1986: [15] 284). As Shun puts it, “reaching out to the things” means “arriving at the li in things and affairs so that one can accord with li when dealing with them” (Shun 2013: 84; see also Tang 1990: 270–71). So “reaching out to the things” implies the idea of “exhaustively investigating the li” (qiongli 窮理) (see Zhu 1983: 4). “Reaching out to the things” can be carried out in ways like reading the classics (Zhu 1986: [11] 176), to see how the sages behave (Zhu 1986: [8] 134), how to deal with different affairs (Zhu 1986: [14] 266), and so on. This practice is possible because the li in the things and the li in one’s heart-mind are one, and the heart-mind has the cognitive ability to grasp the li. The heart-mind “is the delicacy (jing 精) and the briskness (shuang 爽) of the vital forces” (Zhu 1986: [5] 85) and “[e]mptiness (xu 虛) and intelligence (ling 靈) is the original state of the heart-mind” (Zhu 1986: [5] 87).42 Then, to extend our knowledge (zhizhi 致知) means to “push out” (tui 推) one’s knowledge (zhi 知) so that it reaches its limit (see Zhu 1986: [15] 296; Shun 2013: 84). The practice of “reaching out to the things” is to “enlighten the heart-mind” (Zhu 1986: [118] 2857). As emphasized in his famous supplementary commentary on “reaching out to the things” in the Great Learning, “to reach out to the things” is to illuminate “the total substance and the great functioning of the heart-mind” (Zhu 1983: 6–7). Hence, although Zhu always asks us to “reach out to the things”  Some may ask whether seriousness is a global trait; and if yes, whether it is also subject to the situationist critique and cannot serve as a solution to the critique. It is true that Zhu sometimes takes it as a virtue. For instance, he says, “benevolence and seriousness can be called virtues, but cannot be called the way” (Zhu 1986: [6] 101). But even if it is a virtue, global or not, it can still serve as a boost to the recovery of the “bright virtue,” that is, the extension of the local virtues to the less local virtues, for it is a state of heart-mind that is not subject to situational factors all the time. More pertinently, it is rather a state of heart-mind that one is committed to maintain before entering situations. With this state of heart-mind, one’s virtue can be extended. 41  Translation adapted from Shun (2010: 187). 42  Singular form is used here as I take xuling as one thing, even though I use two terms to denote its two qualities. 40

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extensively (see Zhu 1986: [18] 421), he does not expect us, and it is not necessary, to reach out to everything in order to enlighten the heart-mind. The key is to have enough accumulation that leads one to break through clearly (houran guantong 豁 然貫通) (see Zhu 1986: [18] 394, [18] 406–7; Zhu 1983: 7). Henceforth, one can know the li shared by everything and can deal with everything properly.43 Here we need to bring out Zhu’s distinction between “knowledge of hearing and seeing” (wenjian zhi zhi 聞見之知) and “knowledge of virtue” (dexing zhi zhi 德性 之知). Similar distinctions were drawn by Zhang Zai 張載 (see Zhang 1978: 24) and shared by the Cheng brothers (see Cheng and Cheng 1981: 317). The former is knowledge based on senses, whereas the latter is the knowledge about morality and itself moral for it has its roots in one’s virtue. So, although the former can be essential for moral behavior and that is partly why Zhu asks us to learn so in the early stage of cultivation (see Zhu 1986: [98] 2519), it alone does not motivate one to act morally. On the contrary, the latter does. It is a kind of “genuine knowledge” (zhenzhi 真知), which will necessarily lead to action. “Genuine knowledge” is a knowledge with greatest depth that can penetrate “the marrow of a thing” (Zhu 1986: [15] 283). This knowledge is of personal concern, as Zhu succeeds Cheng brothers’ example and says, one who is injured by a tiger will know that it is dreadful. Those who have never been injured by a tiger have to think of the li of being injured to the extent that they can achieve the understanding of those who have been injured. (Zhu 1986: [15] 309)

Zhu provides another example: If one knows that something is not good but still do it, then it seems that he knows it not quite genuinely. If he genuinely knows it, he will definitely not do so. It is as if people say that overeating and overdrinking will damage the body, which everyone knows. It is nevertheless not a genuine knowledge. Once one overate and overdrank and damaged her body one day, he will definitely not do so the next day. This is to genuinely know that it causes damages and to refrain from doing so again. (Zhu 1986: [118] 2849)

Those with “genuine knowledge” will act accordingly (see Zhu 1986: [60] 1436, [116] 2793). Zhu thus urges us to recognize first-personally (tiren 體認) what li and virtues are inside ourselves (see Zhu 1986: [11] 182, [14] 264, [35] 936–37).44  This may sound problematic and mysterious. As Liu Shu-hsien comments, “In fairness to Zhu, however, he surely did not mean that one can know everything or that an accumulation of empirical knowledge can bring about moral enlightenment. What he firmly believed was that there are principles [i.e., li] in all the things in the world, and that through the investigation of things one would somehow recognize all principles in the world as having the same origin—as manifestations of the same principle. . . . Evidently, Zhu’s problem was not realizing that without a leap of faith, a gradual accumulation of knowledge will not necessarily lead to seeing a single principle in the universe” (Liu S. 2003: 901). Lao Sze-kwang 勞思光 also points out that Zhu does not offer an explanation on how the grasp of the particular li in various things can lead to the grasp of the common li (see Lao 2005: 292). However, we cannot afford to go into details. 44  The ideas of “genuine knowledge” and “knowledge of virtue” are developed by the contemporary scholar Tu Weiming 杜維明 as “embodied knowledge” (tizhi 體知), which can be rendered as “the sensibility and awareness of the human heart-mind” (Tu 2014: 117). It is knowledge experienced personally (Tu 2002: 358) and has the function of creative transformation (Tu 2002: 358). Actions will naturally follow. 43

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The two aspects of cultivation in Zhu’s ethics is interrelated. JeeLoo Liu is right to take the former as the foundation of the latter, as “maintaining the mental state of reverence [that is, seriousness] enables one to gain insights into the principles of external things” (J. Liu 2017: 227; see Zhu 1986: [9] 150). But she seems to hesitate to stress on the latter’s function towards the former, for she thinks that the knowledge of li does not necessarily lead to moral actions, which will imply the elimination of one’s desires (see J. Liu 2017: 239–42). This seems a legitimate doubt, but Zhu does think that it works, for he says, “Within human’s heart-mind, if the heavenly li is there then the human desires will diminish” (Zhu 1986: [13] 224); “Human being only has the heavenly li and the human desires. When this one triumphs, the other retreats. When the other triumphs, this one retreats” (Zhu 1986: [13] 224); “If one is astringent, rests oneself upon the righteous li, and does not have much eccentric or fanciful thoughts, then gradually one will naturally look down upon material desires and look up to the righteous li” (Zhu 1986: [12] 201–2); “Exhaustively investigating the li to the clarity will help nurture the heart-mind” (Zhu 1986: [5] 150). Hence, the two aspects are interrelated. In Zhu’s view, these two aspects of cultivation can help eliminate the selfish desires, people will act morally, and their virtue will become less local. It is of our interest to explicate in what ways the elimination of selfish desire can help us perform better when we face the two kinds of variations that lead to the localness of virtues. Concerning the first kind of variation, which is the variation in the similar traiteliciting situations, the investigation of li urges people to find out what should be done in different situations, including how to treat different people in different relationships. Also, the investigation of li can help people realize that the scope of morality can and should be so large that covers everything in the world, because when the li is one and everything takes a specific manifestation of it, everything can be and should be put under our concern and be treated appropriately. That is, if one understands and acts on the li of certain relationship appropriately, then, when he recognizes the same li (although with different manifestations) is over there in another relationship, under the quest of consistency, he will know to act on the latter as well and he is also capable of doing so. The second kind of variation concerns the trait-irrelevant factors. The first group of them is the situational demand characteristics, which are bad reasons. For instance, in the bystander effect, neither the possible embarrassment nor the diffusion of responsibility is a good reason for not offering help; avoiding a few minutes late for a casual appointment may not be a good reason for not stopping to help the needy. While some of the moral failures caused by these bad reasons are due to really poor reasoning, some of them are due to selfish desires. Consider the Good Samaritan example (Darley and Batson 1973). The experiment tested whether the seminary students, who were told of being in a hurry, on time, or not hurry situation, would stop to help a slumped traveler on their way to a talk in a nearby building. It is possible that some of the hurry seminary students who did not stop to help take punctuality as more important than helping the traveler, whereas it is also possible that the students did not help because of their selfish desire to maintain their fame to the appointed audience. The former case can be rectified by Zhu’s

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investigation of li as aforementioned. The latter case that involves selfish desires can also be dealt with, as we see the reason in the next paragraph. Another group of the trait-irrelevant factors includes the “situational non-reasons” that are “merely causal influences on moral conduct, and yet they are hugely and secretly influential” (Alfano 2013: 44). They may be some mood elevators and depressors, which may be some ambient sensibilia. It can be said that Zhu’s caution about our inner mental activities can especially help cope with the intrusion of selfish desires that we may sometimes unaware of. Namely, being serious is a good antidote for the situational non-reasons like the mood effects. Zhu says, “when one is at a stability (an 安), one can be wholehearted. When the affair arrives, one can deliberate clearly” (Zhu 1986: [14] 275; see also Zhu 1986: [14] 276). With a serious heart-mind, one has a better chance to have her mood remained unaffected by the situational disturbances. For instance, being in a dark room will not affect one’s being honest. One will still help when no dime is found in the telephone booth. Then, one will treat the affairs in the way they ought to be treated and the virtue can be extended.

5.3 Zhu’s Responses to Doris’s Strategy of Situation Management Although I have been suggesting Zhu’s alternative view on virtue and virtue extension, some of Doris’s concerns and ideas are significant and are worth exploring in light of Zhu. I will focus on the significance of and the way to do situation management in this subsection and the significance of the emulation and advice models in the next subsection. One point to note is that while the above shows the two fundamental aspects of Zhu’s cultivation, there are specific measures to implement both aspects. For instance, reading the Confucian classics is an important way to know the sages’ thoughts (yi 意), which represent the li that is inherent in our heart-mind (see Zhu 1986: [10] 161–62, [10] 167). Similarly, then, both situation management and the use of emulation and advice models are more specific ways to implement or facilitate those two aspects of cultivation of Zhu. While situation management should not be taken as the sole measure of cultivation, it is still significant in Zhu’s cultivation program. Zhu would agree that situation management can be useful in virtue cultivation, as some situations may be too difficult or dangerous for us and are not conducive to moral development. For instance, Zhu notes the teaching in the Analects that it is unwise not to choose to have the neighbor who is benevolent (Zhu 1983: 69) and emphasizes that the ancient people “were sure to select carefully the village where he dwelled, and were sure to associate with well-bred men when he travelled”45 and “would not enter the state that  Appears in Chapter 1 of Xunzi: “Therefore, the gentleman is sure to select carefully the village where he dwells, and he is sure to associate with well-bred men when he travels. This is how he avoids corruption and draws near to what is correct” (Hutton 2014: 3). 45

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is in peril and would not stay in a state that is in danger”46 (Zhu 1986: [26] 642). It is generally thought that making friends with those who are virtuous can help make oneself virtuous as well (see Zhu 1986: [21] 505; cf. Zhu 1986: [27] 703). Zhu also explicates Mencius’s point that under difficult situations, people are more likely to behave immorally (see Zhu 1983: 329).47 Good environment is generally more conducive to moral development. Zhu thus would not totally oppose to the seek/avoid strategy, as such a seeking or avoidance may fit the li and can help one to develop her virtues. However, quite often, the affairs just arrive. Then, Zhu would simply suggest our coping with them according to what we have learnt about the li. He says, If one’s abilities have not reached the certain level, does it mean that he just does not respond to the affairs? . . . If one’s abilities have not reached the level, he should still try to treat the affairs with what her abilities have reached. [Cheng 程] Mingdao 明道 is right to say that “The learners must completely embody the heart-mind. Even if one’s learning has not reached its limit, if the affairs arrive, they cannot not be left unresponded to. One just responds to them with what he has, and then even if the response does not hit the target, it will not be far away.” (Zhu 1986: [116] 2791)

This picture has obviously assumed a reasonable amount of abilities of the agent. But the point is that, as Zhu believes that the li is one, people can infer what would be correct for the circumstances novel to them by what they have embodied or learnt before. When someone asks, “What do we do when the affairs have not arrived and they cannot get to be understood?” Zhu replies that, “It is only that [the thing] is not here. However, the li is here. When the thing arrives, we just treat it with the li” (Zhu 1986: [53] 1284). Ideally, when one has grasped the li, one can therefore respond to whatever situations correctly, even if the situations are somehow novel and cannot be predicted (see Zhu 1986: [13] 237). Constant efforts are needed. Adopting the seek/ avoid strategy will deprive one of the chances to investigate the li in various things. Besides, as mentioned before, effective situation management will depend on inner qualities. With Zhu’s cultivation, situation management will have a better chance to be effective, for one is serious when planning one’s dealing with the affairs.

5.4 Zhu’s Appreciation of the Advice Model and the Emulation Model To reiterate, Doris suggests that if we are to emphasize on moral ideals or exemplars in moral cultivation, although emulation is sometimes useful, the advice model that asks us to consult the advice of the ideally virtuous agent is preferred. It is because  Appears in the Analects 8.13 in Lau (2000: 72)  Although the situationist findings emphasize that even in non-extreme situations, people’s behavior is more susceptible to situational factors more than inner, personal factors, Doris’s train of thought on situation management should imply the consideration of situational effects in a comprehensive sense. That is also why Doris suggests that the recovering alcoholic “cultivates relationships with sober people and stays out of bars” (Doris 2002: 120). 46 47

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people may risk overestimating their abilities when emulating the psychology and behavior of the virtuous exemplar. Note that while Doris talks about the effectiveness of the two models in facilitating moral behavior, the two models can also be useful for virtue cultivation, as Nancy E. Snow argues that “virtue can develop through imitating role models and following practical advice” (Snow 2016: 140). I will examine the usefulness of the two models not only about their effectiveness for bringing out ethically desirable behavior but also, more importantly, for virtue cultivation in light of Zhu. Zhu also appreciates the significance of ideals of virtues or moral exemplars for moral cultivation. He says, “It is enough for one to be a gentleman if he meets the sage and learns from him” (Zhu 1986: [118] 2838). Let us first consider the advice model. Doris thinks that “the ideally virtuous advisor must be a situationist psychologist” (Doris 2002: 151), for he can tell the normal people how to effectively implement the seek/avoid strategy. However, after understanding the limitations of the seek/avoid strategy, the advice model for ethical cultivation (both for leading to ethical behavior and more importantly virtue cultivation) should not be so limited. Instead, the virtuous advisor should be able to tell us which actions are moral in particular situations; but more importantly, he must be able to make people grasp the li inherent in themselves. Presumably, then, the advisor should be a virtuous person, who has a clear and comprehensive grasp of li and is able to eliminate her selfish desires to a large extent. This can be revealed in Zhu’s view on the requirement of being a teacher (shi 師). Zhu annotates the Analects 2.11 (in Lau 2000: 12) as follows: It says that when one can frequently study what one has learnt and can get something new from it, then what is learnt is one’s own. It can respond [to different situations] and cannot be exhausted. Therefore, one is able to be a teacher. If it is the learning of indorsement (jiwen zhi xue 記問之學), then it is not attained by the heart-mind and what is known is limited. Hence, the “Record of Learning”48 ridicules it as “not sufficient to be a teacher.” (Zhu 1983: 57)

That is, the advisor should be able to grasp li. Besides, in order to give suitable advice to people with different levels of cultivation, the advisor should also be capable of “knowing the fellow men” (zhiren 知人). In Zhu’s conversations, this idea is about understanding the qualities of a person, especially the moral ones, so as to know how to deal with them, say, to select them to be the officials (see Zhu 1983: 195; Zhu 1986: [42] 1094–95, [64] 1560). However, “knowing the fellow men” should also be indispensable for giving advice. For although the li is one, its manifestations are many, and different people are endowed with different natures of vital forces (qizhi zhixing 氣質之性) and are on different levels of cultivation. Thus, the advisor can suggest the ways or aspects that he thinks appropriate for and useful to particular people in particular situations.49 For instance, when someone asks Zhu about the difference in Confucius’s answers for Yan Yuan 顏淵 and Zhong-gong’s 48 49

 A passage in the Book of Rites.  See the discussion on the nature of vital forces in our next section.

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仲弓 questions on benevolence, Zhu replies that “These were said according to their different qualities (zizhi 資質)” (Zhu 1986: [42] 1072). The advice model relies on one’s actual practice of the advice received. Zhu says, The merits of teachers and friends are only in being capable of revealing [the way] at the beginning and rectifying one at the end. The many portions of efforts in-between are to be made by oneself. The benefits are huge if one has their exhortations at the beginning, the self-encouragement in-between, and the discussions with the others that help rectify oneself. (Zhu 1986: [8] 146; see also Zhu 1986: [10] 161)

One should actually do the cultivation we aforementioned and grasp the li. The advice of the virtuous person only serves as an exhortation auxiliary to the extension of virtues.50 Let us turn to the emulation model. While Doris worries that normal people may fail to emulate the virtuous exemplars and may lead to detrimental consequences, he does not totally deny the usefulness of emulation. Some scholars have already pointed out that one of the special characteristics of Confucian morality is that it is exemplary. Instead of constructing a set of rules, the Confucians emphasize moral exemplifications and emulations that urge us to make moral progress by practical endeavors (e.g., Olberding 2012; Wang 2016). More importantly, we should focus more on its significance. We and Zhu would agree with Doris that “[e]thical emulation is not slavish imitation. We needn’t follow the moral exemplar in every respect—one needn’t be snub-nosed to emulate Socrates. Nor must we engage in emulation for every ethical decision” and that “[w]e should emulate the exemplar only in ethically significant respects” (Doris 2002: 151). However, as Doris has from the very beginning forfeited the goal of achieving a global virtuous personhood, emulation for him is limited to be for the sake of morally desirable behavior.51 It seems that it is not of Doris’s concern that we should by emulation acquire and embrace the psychology of the virtuous exemplar, which is the exemplification of the pursuit for the global moral personhood.52 To question the significance of embracing the psychology that manifests a global virtuous personhood amounts to the question that why virtue cultivation is necessary. This brings us to the final section of the chapter.

 Thus, I think that the advice model in Zhu’s view will be different from the one of Nancy E. Snow on advice-following, which suggests that “through the repeated performance of virtuous actions associated with roles or needed for the attainment of desired goals. . . . [People] can develop virtuous dispositions” (Snow 2016: 138–39), for such a virtuous disposition is not or is not formed by an unrooted habit but is a result of the recognition and the embracement of li. 51  The predicate “global” is important here, as Doris’s account may not deny a kind of moral or virtuous personhood that is fragmented or local. 52  In my understanding, it is in a similar sense that McGavin and Hunter (2014) criticize Doris for his derogation of the emulation model. For them, who take Aristotle’s ethics as the representative of virtue ethics in their paper, “Aristotle gives a motive for emulation—that is, the state of eudaimonia” (McGavin and Hunter 2014: 290). Emulation is not just for morally desirable behavior, but for a more ultimate ethical ideal or status, although the ones for Aristotle and Zhu may be different. 50

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6 How and Why Virtue Cultivation is Possible and Necessary in Zhu’s View In this section, I will explain further how and why, for Zhu, virtue cultivation is possible, practical, and in fact necessary. The answer is that, for Zhu, we are human beings that have a good, moral nature. That is, we are inherently virtuous. Let us start with the idea of necessity. The situationists remind us that virtues are so rare and cultivation is arduous and impractical. As mentioned in Sect. 5, Zhu admits that virtues are difficult to cultivate. Then, why should we insist on cultivating them? For Zhu, and in fact for all Confucians, the fact that people do not have the robust virtue now does not make the urge on virtue cultivation illegitimate or impractical.53 Despite the difficulty, Zhu urges us to be a sage, the exemplary human (see Zhu 1986: [34] 890). Like all other Confucians, Zhu highlights that there is something we must do: Someone asks, “What is it that the li 理 does not allow to stop (bu rong yi 不容已)?” Zhu replies, “What ought to be done naturally according to the li cannot be stopped. Mencius illuminates this point most clearly, as he says, ‘There are no young children who do not naturally love their parents and, when they grow up, will not respect their elder brothers.’ Naturally there are things that cannot be stopped.” (Zhu 1986: [18] 414) Someone asks, “What does it mean by ‘manifested from human’s heart-mind and unstoppable (bu ke yi 不可已)?’” Zhu replies, “When you see the child falling into the well, the heart-mind of compassion will be manifested. How can it be stopped (ruhe yi de 如何 已得)! Mencius uses these words with the utmost clarity. If a thing is managed by human efforts, it can be stopped. If it cannot be stopped, it is natural.” (Zhu 1986: [53] 1281) If one really understands that this is what oneself ought to do, then naturally there is something that cannot be stopped (bu ke yi 不可已). For instance, a minister must be loyal. It is not a deceitful saying, for a minister cannot be not loyal. A son must be filial. Again, it is not a deceitful saying, for a son cannot be not filial. (Zhu 1986: [18] 414)54

For Zhu, there is a kind of practical necessity that some actions must be done and cannot be stopped or relinquished, for there is the li that naturally signifies the ways in which actions should be taken, or the states in which the things should be.55 Zhu says,

 This is what the scholars call the “rarity response” to the situationist critique. In Christian B. Miller’s words, this response “is to deny that any reasonable form of virtue ethics is committed on descriptive grounds to the widespread possession of virtues” (Miller 2014: 202). Similarly, Nafsika Athanassoulis says, “Virtue ethics presumably requires that moral behavior, in the form of possessing virtuous character traits, is a possibility, rather than an actuality for the majority of people. Indeed, the virtuous agent is often discussed as an ideal which we aim towards, but do not necessarily ever achieve” (Athanassoulis 2000: 217). 54  The pair seems to be begging the question. But in the context, it should be stating the content of, not providing justification for, the li, which is understood in advance. 55  Practical necessity refers to the necessity for action, which is not limited to moral actions. Under practical necessity, “the course of action that [the normative reasons] dictate forces itself upon the agent with such authority that alternative courses of action are rendered practically impossible” (Bauer et al. 2017: 1). In Bernard Williams’s words, “some notion of impossibility of the alternatives, or of the agent’s incapacity, is at work” (Williams 1981: 126–27). 53

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As long as there are such things, then there must be the respective li of ought (dangran zhi ze 當然之則) that make them such things and they naturally cannot be stopped (bu rong yi 不 容已), as they are all endowed from the heaven and not what human beings can make. (Zhu 2001: 22)

Human nature is endowed from the heaven. He says, Nature is nothing other than li, and is the name of the ten thousand li.56 This li is also nothing other than the common li between the heaven and earth. I am endowed with it and it becomes mine. The mandate of heaven is just like the imperial court’s commanding and appointing the officers. Nature is the official position, and the officer has his duties. (Zhu 1986: [117] 2816) The origination, advancement, enrichment, and perseverance of the Qian 乾 [that is, Hexagram 1] concerns the heavenly way (tiandao 天道). When human beings obtain it, it is the nature of benevolence, righteousness, propriety, and wisdom. (Zhu 1986: [28] 725)

We can see that human nature has the virtues. He says, “Benevolence” (ren 仁) means “human being” (ren 人). A human being is a human being because he has it [that is, benevolence]. Within this very heart-mind, there thoroughly is the heavenly li (tianli 天理). In any movements and [even] in the moment of haste and times of difficulty and confusion, the heavenly li cannot be violated. (Zhu 1986: [61] 1459)

And, “Human beings are human beings only because of these four [i.e., compassion, shame and dislike, deference and compliance, and feeling of right and wrong]” (Zhu 1986: [15] 285). For Zhu, nature is identical with li (xing ji li 性即理) and li resides in the heart-mind. Then, what must human beings do to fulfill one’s nature? The answer is that one must be moral, i.e., one must cultivate one’s virtues like benevolence, righteousness, propriety, and wisdom, as he is a human being. A failure will disqualify one from being a human. Zhu says, A human being is named as human being because of his benevolence. If we talk of benevolence without talking of human being, we cannot see where li resides. If we talk of human being without talking of benevolence, then human being is only a piece of flesh. (Zhu 1986: [61] 1459)

He also says, “One who is without loyalty and faithfulness (xin 信) is not a human being. How can he talk about learning?” (Zhu 1986: [21] 489). In his exegesis of Mencius 2A.6, Zhu writes that, “This is to say that if a human being does not have it [i.e., the heart-mind with four sprouts], he cannot be called a human being” (Zhu 1983: 238). One is only a defective but not a genuine human being and is called a “beast” (qinshou 禽獸) if one violates one’s moral nature (see Zhu 1986: [4] 65–66). For Zhu, being virtuous is necessary for maintaining one as a human being. In other words, virtue cultivation is necessary if one is to be a human being. This is his idea that human beings and things must fulfill their heavenly-endowed nature: “That a human being is a human and a thing is a thing is to correctly fulfill its nature and destiny. To maintain its harmonious vital forces and nature and des-

56

 See the idea of “li is one but things have different dues” discussed in Sect. 5.

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tiny is what is mandated at the beginning” (Zhu 1986: [16] 317).57 Therefore, cultivating one’s virtues is necessary for one’s being a human. Moreover, with this human nature, virtue cultivation is possible and practical. He says, “As human nature is good, everyone can be a Yao or a Shun” (Zhu 1986: [55] 1306); “Our human nature is good and moral and comprises benevolence, righteousness, propriety, and wisdom” (see Zhu 1986: [14] 262). These are the virtues and they allow us to have compassion, shame and dislike, deference and compliance, and feeling of right and wrong (see Zhu 1986: [4] 63–64), and they are manifested in our daily life (see Zhu 1986: [14] 262), as mentioned in Sect. 5. Everyone is endowed with this original nature (benran zhi xing 本然之性) and is able to be moral (see Zhu 1986: [47] 1178). The moral differences among people are explained in terms of their differences in nature of vital forces (qizhi zhi xing 氣質 之性) and their efforts made. For Zhu, while “[p]eople are born with the merging of li and vital forces” (Zhu 1986: [4] 64), those who are endowed with clear vital forces become sages and good people. It is just like the pearl in clear and cold water. Those who are endowed with the turbid vital forces become fools and bad people. It is just like the pearl in turbid water. (Zhu 1986: [4] 73; see also Zhu 1986: [12] 207, [14] 261–62, [117] 2808)

Even the evildoers have the same moral nature; but they are just like having their nature muddled by the turbid water. As aforementioned, the turbid vital forces will lead to selfish desires that block that brightness of our nature and divert us from the right path. However, one can still endeavor to somehow transform the vital forces by cultivation. Their turbid vital forces will only make their cultivation difficult but not impossible (see Zhu 1986: [119] 2875). Zhu says, What is important is to recognize the li, even if he is an evil person. The mere worry is that he is stubborn and does not know to be enlightened. If the heart-mind slightly feels insecure, one then rectifies oneself right here. How cannot he be a good person? (Zhu 1986: [117] 2809; see also Zhu 1986: [17] 377)

Also, “Human nature is originally good. Even concerning the evilest people, if they can do good for one day, they are good people for one day. How can there be the li [reason] that one can never change?” (Zhu 1986: [47] 1178). Thus, Zhu would agree with the rarity response, i.e., that at this moment only few of us are virtuous is not a reason for abandoning virtue cultivation. With the good human nature, virtue cultivation is possible and practical. One may ask for the ground of such a worldview, i.e., there is the heavenly li that makes everything well-ordered, which includes mandating us with the moral nature. JeeLoo Liu mentions this concern: Classical Confucianism’s moral metaphysics connects human existence to some contingent a priori grounding—heaven’s endowment. Neo-Confucians, without exception, all

 JeeLoo Liu is correct to say that “Zhu Xi’s view of nature is thus the fusion of what is and what ought to be: a person’s nature is its function which it ought to fulfill in order to meet its name; a person’s nature is the normative duty which he or she ought to carry out in order to be deemed human” (J. Liu 2017: 128; emphasis original; see also Ivanhoe 2000: 46).

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embraced this view. In their eyes, we are moral creatures not by way of social conditioning; we are made this way by our nature. Of course, such a view should be empirically testable and even falsifiable; however, to neo-Confucians, this metaphysical fact about human nature is their first principle—taken for granted, indisputable, and objectively true” (J. Liu 2017: 126; emphases original).

This is not false. However, we may further explain the reason why the NeoConfucians come up with such a worldview. Some scholars offer insightful explanations. For instance, Huang Yong 黃勇 explicates the distinction between the two kinds of metaphysics, namely, foundational metaphysics and explanatory metaphysics. He thinks that the metaphysics in traditional Western philosophy is a kind of “foundational metaphysics,” which “attempts to construct a metaphysical (system of) idea(s) independent from our empirical and practical knowledge and then derive from it everything empirical and practical, if needs be” (Huang 2015: 119), whereas the “explanatory metaphysics” “starts from our empirical and/or practical knowledge and aims to explain such knowledge: why our empirical world is so and why our practical world should be so” (Huang 2015: 120). Zhu’s account for human nature is of the latter kind, namely, “it is based on and aims to explain some of our empirical and practical intuitions” (Huang 2015: 123), for Zhu agrees with Cheng Yi’s 程頤 saying that “from [the feeling of] commiseration we can know that there is [the nature of] ren” (Zhu 1986: [53] 1288). Huang thus says we can have indirect knowledge of the goodness of human nature from our direct knowledge of the goodness of human emotions, just as we can . . . have indirect knowledge of the root from our direct knowledge of its sprouts. (Huang 2015: 124)

It is not a foundational metaphysics. Mou Zongsan 牟宗三 has a similar view. He argues that the moral worldview is obtained by the Neo-Confucians’ constant moral endeavors and is not a kind of speculative or “foundational” metaphysics, but can be viewed as an explanatory one using Huang’s distinction. By constantly engaging in moral endeavors, the Confucians perceive the world as a moral one, as it allows things to exist properly and prosperously. They then authentically believe that human nature is endowed from and is identical to that origin of the world. It is thus a “moral metaphysics” in the sense that they view the world as a moral one. Though not uncontestable, it is different from the vulnerable kind of “metaphysical ethics” that derives a morality from a speculative metaphysics, such as the one of Dong Zhongshu 董仲舒 (see Mou 1983: 69–85). Although Mou is critical of Cheng Yi and Zhu for their having a different understanding of the ultimate reality than the one of the other major NeoConfucians such as Cheng Hao 程顥 and Wang Shouren 王守仁 (see Mou 1968: 42–60), the above analysis of moral metaphysics should still also apply to Zhu. In short, such a worldview does have rational support and comes from authentic human experience.

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7 Conclusion This chapter discusses the situationist critique of virtue ethics and explicates how Zhu Xi would defend virtue ethics. I argue that, while Zhu could accept Doris’s claim that very few people possess robust virtues, virtue cultivation is still possible, practical, and necessary. The local traits that people do have can be and should be extended to be global (or at least “less local”) traits because we have a good human nature. Zhu also reminds us that inner management of oneself is indispensable for situation management and also provides an enriched understanding of the emulation model and advice model in the ethical enterprise.

References Adams, Robert Merrihew. 2006. A Theory of Virtue: Excellence in Being for the Good. Oxford: Oxford University Press. (Chapter 8 discusses the situationist critique and examines the notion of virtue.) Alfano, Mark. 2013. Character as Moral Fiction. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. (Part 1 examines the situationist critique of virtue ethics and proposes the factitious virtue account as a response to the critique.) Angle, Stephen C. 2009. Sagehood: The Contemporary Significance of Neo-Confucian Philosophy. New York: Oxford University Press. (A study of Song–Ming Neo-Confucianism with analyses on key concepts and issues on ethics, moral psychology, education, and politics.) ———. 2015. “Zhu Xi’s Virtue Ethics and the Grotian Challenge.” In David Jones and Jinli He, eds., Returning to Zhu Xi: Emerging Patterns within the Supreme Polarity. Albany: State University of New York Press. (It classifies Zhu’s ethics as a virtue ethics and discusses how it can respond to the Grotian challenge to virtue ethics.) Angle, Stephen C., and Justin Tiwald. 2017. Neo-Confucianism: A Philosophical Introduction. Cambridge: Polity. (An introduction to Song–Ming Neo-Confucianism with analyses on key concepts.) Angle, Stephen C., and Michael Slote, eds. 2013. Virtue Ethics and Confucianism. London: Routledge. Annas, Julia. 2005. “Comments on John Doris’s Lack of Character.” Philosophy and Phenomenological Research 73.3: 636–642. (A review of Doris’s book with a criticism on Doris’s conception of virtue.) Athanassoulis, Nafsika. 2000. “A Response to Harman: Virtue Ethics and Character Traits.” Proceedings of the Aristotelian Society 100.1: 215–221. (A reply to Harman’s claim that there is no evidence for the existence of character traits.) Badhwar, Neera K. 2009. “The Milgram Experiments, Learned Helplessness, and Character Traits.” Journal of Ethics 13.2–3: 257–289. (Offers an explanation of the obedient Milgram subjects by making reference to the learned helplessness experiments.) Baron, Robert A., 1997. “The Sweet Smell of... Helping: Effects of Pleasant Ambient Fragrance on Prosocial Behavior in Shopping Malls.” Personality and Social Psychology Bulletin 23.5: 498–503. (A study on mood effects on helping behavior.) Bauer, Katharina, Somogy Varga, and Corinna Mieth. 2017. “Dimensions of Practical Necessity: An Introduction.” In Katharina Bauer, Somogy Varga, and Corinna Mieth, eds., Dimensions of Practical Necessity: “Here I Stand. I Can Do No Other”. Cham: Springer International Publishing AG.

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Besser-Jones, Lorraine. 2014. Eudaimonic Ethics: The Philosophy and Psychology of Living Well. New York: Routledge. (Develops a eudaimonistic virtue ethics based on a psychological account of human nature and discusses the situationist critique in chapter 5.) Betherong, John. 2010. “Zhu Xi’s Cosmology.” In John Makeham, ed., Dao Companion to NeoConfucian Philosophy. Dordrecht: Springer. Chan, Wing-tsit. 1963. A Source Book in Chinese Philosophy. New Jersey: Princeton University Press. Cheng, Hao 程顥, and Cheng Yi 程頤. 1981. The Collection of the Two Chengs. Beijing 北京: Zhonghua shuju 中華書局. Crisp, Roger, and Michael Slote, eds. 1997. Virtue Ethics. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Darley, John M., and Daniel C. Batson. 1973. “From Jerusalem to Jericho: A Study of Situational and Dispositional Variables in Helping Behavior.” Journal of Personality and Social Psychology 27.1: 100–108. (A study on how situational factors like the degree of hurry would affect helping behavior.) Doris, John. 1998. “Persons, Situations, and Virtue Ethics.” Nous 32.4: 504–30. ———. 2002. Lack of Character: Personality and Moral Behavior. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. (The locus classicus of the situationist critique of virtue ethics.) ———. 2010. “Heated Agreement: Lack of Character as Being for the Good.” Philosophical Studies 148.1: 135–46. Doris, John, and Stephen Stich. 2005. “As a Matter of Fact: Empirical Perspective on Ethics.” In The Oxford Handbook of Contemporary Philosophy. Frank Jackson and Michael Smith, eds., Oxford: Oxford University Press. Flanagan, Owen. 1991. Varieties of Moral Personality. Cambridge: Harvard University Press. Fleming, Diana. 2006. “The Character of Virtue: Answering the Situationist Challenge to Virtue Ethics.” Ratio 19.1: 24–42. (Questions the situationist evidence and articulates the nature of virtue ethics.) Gardner, Daniel K., trans. 1990. Learning to be a Sage: Selections from the Conversations of Master Chu, Arranged Topically. Berkeley: University of California Press. Harman, Gilbert. 1999. “Moral Philosophy Meets Social Psychology: Virtue Ethics and the Fundamental Attribution Error.” Proceedings of the Aristotelian Society 99: 315–31. ———. 2000. “The Nonexistence of Character Traits.” Proceedings of the Aristotelian Society 100.1: 223–26. ———. 2001. “Virtue Ethics without Character Traits.” In Alex Byrne, Robert Stalnaker, and Ralph Wedgwood, eds., Fact and Value: Essays on Ethics and Metaphysics for Judith Jarvis Thomson. Cambridge: MIT Press. ———. 2003. “No Character or Personality.” Business Ethics Quarterly 13.1: 87–94. ———. 2009. “Skepticism about Character Traits.” The Journal of Ethics 13.2: 235–42. Hartshorne, Hugh, and Mark May. 1928. Studies in Deceit, vol. 1 of Studies in the Nature of Character. New York: Macmillan. Huang, Yong 黃勇. 2015. “Zhu Xi’s Metaphysics: Explanatory, not Foundational 朱熹的形上 学:解释性的而非基础主义的.” Journal of Social Science 社会科学 1: 118–128. (A paper explicating the nature of Zhu’s metaphysics.) Hutton, Eric. 2006. “Character, Situationism and Early Confucian Thought.” Philosophical Studies 127.1: 37–58. (Discusses how the early Confucians would view the situationist critique of virtue ethics, with the emphasis on the concept of rituals.) ———. 2014. Xunzi: The Complete Text. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Isen, Alice, and Paula Levin. 1972. “Effect of Feeling Good on Helping: Cookies and Kindness.” Journal of Personality and Social Psychology 21: 384–388. (A study on mood effects on helping behavior.) Ivanhoe, Philip J.  2000. Confucian Moral Self-Cultivation. Indianapolis: Hackett Publishing. (Chapter 4 discusses Zhu’s self-cultivation.) Kamtekar, Rachana. 2004. “Situationism and Virtue Ethics on the Content of Our Character.” Ethics, 114.3: 458–491.

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Lao, Sze-kwang (Lao, Siguang) 勞思光. 2005. The Newly Arranged History of Chinese Philosophy (Vol. 3A) 新編中國哲學史(三上). Taipei 臺北: Sanmin 三民. (A study on the history of Chinese philosophy from the Tang to the Song Dynasties.) Latané, Bibb, and Judith Rodin. 1969. “A Lady in Distress: Inhibiting Effects of Friends and Strangers on Bystander Intervention.” Journal of Experimental Social Psychology 5.2: 189– 202. (A study on bystander effects on moral behavior.) Lau, D. C., trans. 2000. The Analects. Hong Kong: The Chinese University Press. ———. 2003. Mencius. Hong Kong: The Chinese University Press. Liu, JeeLoo. 2017. Neo-Confucianism: Metaphysics, Mind, and Morality. New York: John Wiley & Sons Inc. (Chapters 3, 5 and 10 discusses Zhu’s philosophy and chapter 9 takes Cheng brothers philosophy to shed light on the situationist critique of virtue ethics.) Liu, Shu-hsien (Liu, Shuxian) 劉述先. 1995. The Development and the Completion of Zhu Xi’s Philosophical Thoughts 朱子哲學思想的發展與完成. Taipei 臺北: Xuesheng shuju 學生書 局. (A throughout discussion on the development of Zhu’s thoughts.) ———. 2003. “Zhu Xi (Chu Hsi).” In Antonio Cua, ed., Encyclopedia of Chinese Philosophy. New York: Routledge. (An introduction to Zhu’s life and thoughts.) Matthews, Kenneth E.  Jr., and Lance K.  Cannon. 1975. “Environmental Noise Level as a Determinant of Helping Behavior.” Journal of Personality and Social Psychology 32.4: 571– 577. (A study on how the ambient noises affect helping behavior.) McGavin, Paul A., and T. A. Hunter. 2014. “The We Believe of Philosophers: Implicit Epistemology and Unexamined Psychologies.” International Philosophical Quarterly 54.3: 279–269. (Questions the assumptions of Doris’s situationism.) Milgram, Stanley. 1974. Obedience to Authority: An Experimental View. New York: Harper and Row. (The famous study on how the pressure from the authority would lead to destructive behavior.) ———. 1977. The Individual in a Social World: Essays and Experiments. Reading, MA: AddisonWesley. (The famous study on how the pressure from the authority would lead to destructive behavior.) Miller, Christian B. 2003. “Social Psychology and Virtue Ethics.” The Journal of Ethics 7: 365– 392. (Outlines the situationist critique of virtue ethics and proposes a positive account of character trait possession as a response to the critique.) ———. 2014. Character and Moral Psychology. Oxford: Oxford University Press. (A proposal on the “mixed trait framework” and a discussion on other frameworks of traits.) Mischel, Walter. 1968. Personality and Assessment. New  York: Wiley. (An important book in social psychology that criticizes the personality theories which Doris calls as globalism.) Mou, Zongsan 牟宗三. 1968. The Substance of Heart-mind and the Substance of Human Nature (Volume 1) 心體與性體 (第一冊). Taipei 臺北: Zhengzhong shuju 正中書局. (An authoritative study of Song–Ming Neo-Confucianism.) ———. 1983. The Nineteen Lectures on Chinese Philosophy: An Introduction to Chinese Philosophy and its Implied Problems 中國哲學十九講:中國哲學之簡述及其所涵蘊之問題. Taipei 臺北: Xuesheng shuju 學生書局. Olberding, Amy. 2012. Moral Exemplars in the Analects: The Good Person is That. New York: Routledge. Prinz, Jesse J. 2009. “The Normativity Challenge: Cultural Psychology Provides the Real Threat to Virtue Ethics.” The Journal of Ethics 13.2: 117–144. Rodgers, Travis J., and Brandon Warmke. 2015. “Situationism versus Situationism.” Ethical Theory and Moral Practice 18.1: 9–26. (Examines the prescriptive claims and descriptive claims of situationism and demonstrates how some of them may have contradictions.) Russell, Daniel C.. 2009. Practical Intelligence and the Virtues. Oxford: Oxford University Press. (Part III discusses situations, dispositions, and virtues.) ———. ed. 2013. The Cambridge Companion to Virtue Ethics. New York: Cambridge University Press. Sabini, John, and Maury Silver. 2005. “Lack of Character? Situationism Critiqued.” Ethics 115: 535–562. (A criticism of the situationist critique of virtue ethics.)

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Sarkissian, Hagop. 2010. “Minor Tweaks, Major Payoffs: The Problems and Promise of Situationism in Moral Philosophy.” Philosopher’s Imprint 10.9: 1–15. (Acknowledges the situationist claim of the power of situational factors and argues how we can try to influence each other positively.) Shun, Kwong-loi. 2002. “Ren 仁 and Li 禮 in the Analects.” In Bryan W.  Van Norden, ed., Confucius and the Analects: New Essays. New York: Oxford University Press. ———. 2010. “Zhu Xi’s Moral Psychology.” In John Makeham, ed., Dao Companion to NeoConfucian Philosophy. Dordrecht: Springer. (A discussion on Zhu’s views on the human psychological makeup, ethical failure, self-cultivation and the ethical ideal.) ———. 2013. “Three Kinds of Confucian Thought: Zhu Xi, Wang Yangming, and Dai Zhen.” In Zhong Caijun 鍾彩鈞, ed., Confucianism in East Asian Perspectives: On Its Traditions 東亞 視域中的儒學:傳統的詮釋. Taipei 臺北: Academia Sinica 中央研究院. (Illuminates Zhu’s thoughts by comparing it with those of Wang and Dai.) Slingerland, Edward. 2011. “The Situationist Critique and Early Confucian Virtue Ethics.” Ethics 121.2: 390–419. (Argues that the strong versions of the situationist critique of virtue ethics are empirically and conceptually unfounded.) Smith, Michael. 1995. “Internal Reasons.” Philosophy and Phenomenological Research 55.1: 109–31. Snow, Nancy. 2010. Virtue as Social Intelligence: An Empirically Grounded Theory. New York: Routledge. (Defends virtue ethics by proposing the cognitive-affective-processing system model of traits.) ———. 2016. “How Habits Make Us Virtuous.” In Julia Annas, Darcia Narvaez, and Nancy Snow, eds., Developing the Virtues: Integrating Perspectives. New  York: Oxford University Press. (Demonstrates three paradigms of the development of virtue through habituation.) Sreenivasan, Gopal. 2002. “Errors about Errors: Virtue Theory and Train Attribution.” Mind 111: 47–68. (Criticizes the situationist critique and offers different interpretations of the experimental data.) ———. 2008. “Character and Consistency: Still More Errors.” Mind 117: 603–612. (Continues the debate with Webber 2006 on the notion of consistency.) Sun, Xidan 孫希旦. 1989. Collected Explanations of the Book of Rites 禮記集解. Beijing 北京: Zhonghua shuju 中華書局. Tang, Junyi 唐君毅. 1990. The Discourse on Chinese Philosophy: On Teaching 中國哲學原 論:原教篇. Taipei 臺北: Xuesheng shuju 學生書局. (An in-depth study of Song–Ming Neo-Confucianism.) Tu, Weiming 杜维明. 2002. “Body and the Embodied Knowing 身体与体知.” In Guo Qiyong 郭 齐勇 and Zheng Wenlong 郑文龙, eds., The Collection of Tu Weiming (Vol.5) 杜维明文集 (第五册). Wuhan 武汉: Wuhan chubanshe 武汉出版社. (An illustration of the conception of “embodied knowing.”) Tu, Weiming 杜維明. 2014. “On ‘Embodied Knowing’ of Confucianism: The Implication of Moral Knowing 論儒家的「體知」—德性之知的涵義.” In Kong Xianglai 孔祥來 and Chen Peiyu 陳佩玉, eds., The Collection of Tu Weiming’s Thoughts and Academics 杜維明 思想學術文選. Shanghai上海: Shanghai guji chubanshe 上海古籍出版社. (An illustration of the conception of “embodied knowing.”) Upton, Candace. 2009. “Virtue Ethics and Moral Psychology: The Situationism Debate.” The Journal of Ethics 13.2: 103–115. (An overview of the situationism debate.) Wang, Qingjie 王庆节. 2016. A Confucian Exemplary Ethics of Virtue 道德感动与儒家示范伦理 学. Beijing 北京: Peking University Press 北京大学出版社. Webber, Jonathan. 2006. “Character, Consistency, and Classification.” Mind 115: 651–658. (An attempt to clarify the notion of cross-situational consistency in the situationist critique.) Williams, Bernard. 1981. “Practical necessity.” In Moral Luck: Philosophical Papers, 1973–1980. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Yang, Xiaomei. 2016. “Virtues, Vices, and Situations: What Warrants the Ascription of Character Traits.” Journal of Theoretical and Philosophical Psychology 36.3: 142–157. (Provides some arguments needed for the attributions of character traits.)

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Zhang, Zai 張載. 1978. The Collection of Zhang Zai. Beijing 北京: Zhonghua shuju 中華書局. Zhong, Chen-Bo, Vanessa Bohns, and Francesca Gino. 2010. “Good Lamps are the Best Police: Darkness Increases Dishonesty and Self-interested Behavior.” Psychological Science 21.3: 311–314. (A study on how the lighting affects moral behavior.) Zhu, Xi 朱熹. 1983. Collected Annotations of the Four Books 四書章句集注. Beijing 北京: Zhonghua shuju 中華書局. ———. 1986. Topically Arranged Conversation of Master Zhu 朱子語類. Beijing 北京: Zhonghua shuju 中華書局. ———. 2000. The Collection of Zhu Xi 朱子文集. Taipei 臺北: Defuwenjiao jijinhui 德福文教 基金會. ———. 2001. Questions and Answers on the Four Books 四書或問. Shanghai 上海: Shanghai guji chubanshe 上海古籍出版社. Yat-hung Leung is now a postdoctoral fellow at the Faculty of Arts and Humanities, University of Macau. He mainly works on Chinese philosophy in a comparative way focusing on ethics and moral psychology. He published such comparative works in Philosophy East and West, Journal of Value Inquiry, Sophia, and so on.  

Chapter 39

Zhu Xi’s Ethical Theory: Virtue Ethics Considerations and Kantian Parallels Kirill O. Thompson

1 Introduction Throughout his scholarly career, Zhu Xi 朱熹 (1130–1200) pondered the hallowed Confucian project of self-cultivation in quest of moral realization (see Chan 1976, 1987; Schirokauer 1976). On one level, his understanding of this Confucian project has much in common with modern virtue ethics, which is receiving attention in the scholarship; on another level, he made additional philosophical efforts to justify and ramify Confucian cultivation and moral realization. In making these efforts, Zhu Xi in effect sought to set forth the grounds of genuine moral agency, which in turn led to the formation of what I consider to be his distinctive ethical theory,1 one that bears parallels with that of Immanuel Kant (1724–1804) and highlights the salience of Zhu’s contribution to ethical theory.2 The expression “ethical theory” covers a range of accounts of ethics. In the early twentieth century, ethical theorists in the Anglo-American philosophical tradition examined the meaning and uses of the key terms in moral and ethical discourse, such as “goodness” or “the good,” “right and wrong,” “duty,” “responsibility,” etc. The main approaches they took included intuitionism, emotivism, and prescriptivism. Subsequently, ethical theorists have tried more systematic approaches, such as utilitarianism, pragmaticism, deonotologism,

 Zhu Xi’s breakthrough lay in his recognition of the mind-heart’s volitional function, which forms the core of his ethical theory. 2  Tu Weiming identifies correspondences between Confucianism and Kantianism and compares their respective Problematiks and modes of questioning (Tu 1985). See also Wawrytko (1982). 1

K. O. Thompson (*) Department of Foreign Languages and Literatures, National Taiwan University, Taipei, Taiwan, Republic of China e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2020 K.-c. Ng, Y. Huang (eds.), Dao Companion to ZHU Xi’s Philosophy, Dao Companions to Chinese Philosophy 13, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-29175-4_39

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and even Marxism in their efforts to explain the enterprise of ethics.3 In recent decades, virtue ethics has been touted as a truer to life approach to understanding people’s practical moral reflection and conduct. As suggested, Zhu Xi’s ethical project could be said to have two levels involving, first, the traditional Confucian project of cultivating and practicing the Confucian virtues and Way, which has affinities with modern virtue ethics, and, second, Zhu Xi’s distinctive project of setting forth the philosophical grounds of the moral agency, which bears parallels with the Kantian account. The present study will commence by sketching the notion of contemporary virtue ethics and noting resonances with Zhu Xi’s Confucian project, then it will proceed to offer an account of Zhu Xi’s putative philosophical ethical theory and examine its salient parallels with Kant’s ethical theory. Finally, it will summarize the value and significance of Zhu Xi’s ethical theory.

2 Virtues Ethics and the Formation of Zhu Xi’s Theory Virtue ethics refers to ethical approaches that stress issues of moral character and virtue rather than either matters of acting on principle or aiming to bring about good consequences. Virtue ethics involves the insistence that ethics essentially boils down to a person’s acting in accord with virtue or the relevant virtue in their current situation. In response to perceived limitations of analytic ethical theory in the second half of the twentieth century, G.E.M. Anscombe issued the first call to return to Aristotle’s notion that the virtuous person is one who bears certain ideal character traits, largely inborn but in need of nurture (Anscombe 1958). This call effectively changed the landscape of ethics during the following decades, and such influential philosophers as A. MacIntyre, Iris Murdoch, and Bernard Williams began to respond and take up Anscombe’s call (See MacIntyre 1985; Murdoch 1985; Williams 1985). Such approaches defended and examined the contention that a virtuous person is one who will practice, say, benevolence throughout their life—simply because it is their cultivated disposition to do so. Such dedication to virtue has nothing to do with utility, prudence, or duty. Unlike Kantian or deontological ethical theories, for instance, advocates of virtue ethics do not invoke universal principles or rules, such as the Categorical Imperative or the utilitarian principle. Also, while the ethical theories tend to be invoked when one tackles and analyzes specific issues and problems, virtue approaches lend themselves to broader questions and concerns, such as “How should one live?,” “What constitutes the good life?,” and “What are the best family and social values, all things considered?” Virtue ethics faces several serious objections. Virtue approaches can lead to the problem of self-centeredness. For example, if human flourishing is prioritized, the impact of one’s actions on others, especially others with whom one has no definite relationship, tends to be overshadowed. More seriously, virtue ethics approaches fail

 Hospers (1970) is the primary source book of twentieth century ethical theory.

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to offer moral guidance as to how one should act in particular cases beyond the general call to act virtuously. Ironically, even if one is good natured, whether or not one becomes a good person is also subject to external factors that are beyond one’s control, such as family, friends, school, and society; thus, the virtue ethics notion of moral luck. Moral training, education, and cultivation are deemed crucial in virtue ethics, which also stresses moral narratives and positive role models. On this view, virtuous exemplars act as role models, which students of virtue strive to understand and emulate. This effort begins as a process of cultivating the proper attitudes and responses. Hence, the realization of virtue involves not just one’s ability to judge situations and make appropriate responses but more importantly one’s veneration for virtue as precious for its own sake. For most virtue ethicists, a person cultivates virtue in order to enhance their moral personhood; such moral cultivation usually turns out to be a lifetime enterprise. Although criticized for not offering specific moral guidance, virtue ethicists venture to counter that the concept of virtue offers a rich palate of reflections and considerations for grasping the moral life. They further observe that the complexity of people’s moral lives cannot be adequately understood or guided by binary concepts and monochrome, logocentric principles, such as duty or utility. Remarkably, Aristotle’s doctrine of the mean involves the insight that conducting oneself appropriately in a complex world requires practice, experience, perceptivity, reflection, practical reason, etc. The watchword of the virtue ethicists is that the moral-ethical problems of life are too complex to be grasped against a narrow conceptual moral grid; leading a virtuous moral life thus requires a measure of open-mindedness and flexibility. The Confucian project of self-cultivation as an apprenticeship for moral realization and practice bears much in common with modern virtue ethics approaches, for example in terms of the Confucian stress on realizing the moral virtues, undertaking moral education and practice, emulating positive role models, realizing moral character, grasping the mean, and so forth. In recent decades, a number of scholars have examined these features of Confucian teachings and practice through virtue ethics lenses in order to clarify the distinctive Confucian position and contribution. J.  Tiwald regards virtue ethics as an exquisite tool for mining the rich lode of Confucian ethical thought and reflection (See Tiwand 2010). The publication of S. C. Angle and M. Slote Virtue Ethics and Confucianism has established virtue ethics as a leading approach to examining and interpreting Confucian ethics (See Angle and Slote 2013). Although not every chapter in the book discusses Zhu Xi in particular, every chapter has implications for Zhu Xi studies. To mention a few, chapters by B. Huff and S. Drysdale take up questions of balancing the best ideal way of living with the optimal actually achievable way of living in Wang Yangming’s 王陽明 thought and the role of moral luck in Aristotle’s and Confucius’ ethical and political thought, respectively. In another chapter, Yu Jiyuan responds to the criticism that virtue ethics is unable to offer guidance for dealing with practical problems by considering the notion of practicality used by the ancients. Those early philosophers were not concerned to provide a set of rules to be applied in solving problems; rather, thinkers like Confucius and Mencius sought to improve human life by transforming people. Their work was personal and concerned with cultivating sensitivity and response, rather than professional and

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c­ oncerned with general attitudes and protocols. Huang Yong studies the particularistic account of love that is presented in Cheng Yi 程頤 and Cheng Hao’s 程顥 account of Mencius’ teaching of love with distinctions. First, rather than treating love with distinctions as an artificial stencil for people to express in specific set degrees in different levels of kinship and relationship, the Ching brothers maintain that differently felt love is appropriate in the context of each relationship within set parameters. One gauges the appropriate degree of love to be felt by their inborn sensitivity and aptness for expressing love that comes built into human nature.4 Interestingly, in his chapter on justice, K. Marchal discusses Zhu Xi’s development of a sense of justice according to which each member of a given community cares about the others and arranges fair distribution of goods. He contends that Zhu Xi both offers policies to balance the burdens and benefits of economic activity and recasts Confucian virtues in ways to incline people to such fair ends. The inclusion of policy concerns seems to introduce the need to incorporate principles beyond the strictures of virtue ethics per se. Interestingly, the volume opens with Lee Ming-huei’s shot over the bow, reminding the proponents of the virtue ethics approach to Confucian ethics that the Kantian reading of Confucianism is well-established in Taiwanese academic circles. Lee maintains that since consequentialist ethics and deontological ethics present two mutually exclusive and yet exhaustive ethical theories, there is no opening for alternative ways of accounting for ethics, such as virtue ethics. While Lee sees the virtue ethics approaches as too scattered and diffuse to shed light on Confucian ethics; for their part, the virtue ethicists present themselves as anti-theorists who, rather than stake out general theories of ethics, are interested in examining the personal and interpersonal contours of ethical life in which character and the virtues are intimately involved and theory plays little or no direct role. Indeed, it would take people of character and virtue to bring the moral theories to life. Zhu Xi took the virtues very seriously, humaneness in particular (Thompson 2016); at the same time, he laid out an ethical theory and account of moral agency that was aimed to ensure the sincerity—and lack of self-deception—of people’s expressions of these virtues in their thought, speech, and conduct.5 Zhu Xi developed his Confucian ethical theory with several problems in mind. For example, he wanted to, (1) meet the challenge of Buddhism with its comprehension of life and death, devotional practices, and sophisticated reasoning, (2) overcome the careerist trend in Confucianism as a state ideology, which he saw as undermining its ethical core, (3) assure the sincerity of Confucian moral thinking, responses, and conduct, and (4) lay the cognitive ground of moral reflection and discourse. With these challenges in mind, Zhu Xi developed his account of moral agency on the basis of his notions of pattern (li 理) (see Chan 1964),6 ­natural/heav Huang Yong also shows how Confucianism offers a way out of the self-centeredness problem of virtue ethics (Huang 2010). 5  B. Van Norden discusses Confucian virtue ethics and consequentialism (See Van Norden 2007). 6  Philosophically, while “li” at times appears to function like “principle” in Western thought, its intended meaning is relatively immanent, and Zhu Xi associates it with pattern, patterns, patterning as in the grains in wood, the veins in leaves, the lines in jade, which were thought to give rise 4

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enly pattern (tianli 天理),7 mind-heart (xin 心), and human nature (xing 性) and the emotions (qing 情) (Tong 1982).8 Pattern engenders relative relationships and immanent order; it provides that the world is a creative, harmonious composition of interacting, mutually transforming polarities, such as yin 陰 and yang 陽, and the five phases (wuxing 五行).9 Pattern, as realized in a person’s mind-heart as their nature, structures its functions and expressions. Human nature, in effect, grounds the virtues proper to humanity and the emotions through which these virtues are expressed. The nature and emotions equip and dispose the mind-heart to be ethically sensitive and responsive. As a general rule, each person must, nonetheless, engage in cultivation to develop and more properly and fully realize this moral potential. The concept of a cultivated moral will (zhuzai 主宰) comprises the core of moral agency in Zhu Xi’s view.10 This moral will is rooted in the attitude of reverence (jing 敬), which one expresses in appropriate (yi 義) conduct.11 Accordingly, Zhu Xi’s ethical theory is centered on his concept of the good will, the solid root of good character, which constitutes the heart of the morally realized person (Kupperman 1981; Ames 1981, 1985). This emphasis on the moral will is not to place moral conduct on the periphery; rather, it is to regard the moral will as the author of such conduct—if it is genuinely to have “moral worth.” For Zhu Xi, such moral worth is predicated on a person’s sincere intentions (chengyi 誠意) (Chan 1963: 89–90; see

to the characteristics of those respective kinds of materials. For a vivid view of li, see Wade (2003). J. Rošker stresses that natural and social “structures” arise by virtue of li (Rošker 2012), while B. Ziporyn sees li as connected with “coherence” and necessary to the formation of coherent phenomena (Ziporyn 2008). The author discusses the nature and formation of li vis-à-vis its complement, qi 氣 (Thompson 2015). 7  The Chinese term tian 天 (sky, firmament, heaven) is naturalistic and complements the term di 地 (earth). They form an interactive continuum rather than an ontological opposition, as in early Greek and Christian thought. At the same time, tian is active like the firmament, associated with the ancestral spirits, and involves a moral imperative expressed as tianming 天命 (mandate of heaven, conferment of heaven); hence, the present study preserves the naturalistic meaning of tian while suggesting the connotation of moral imperative. For Zhu Xi, tianli represents a pattern of perfect, fecund balance, akin to the taiji 太極 (supreme polarity) concept and diagram. See Ames and Rosemont (1998: 56–58). 8  The nature is not a conceptual abstraction but is genetically implicated to form the basic disposition and propensities of each person. 9  J. Needham (1956) pioneered the organismic interpretation of li as pattern and of Confucian cosmology generally (Needham 1956, vol. 2: 460–89, esp. 496–505; See also Berthrong 1976; Cheng 1979: 195–208; Kim 2000. Recent studies include Berthrong 1998; Xie et al. 2006; Li and Perkins 2015). 10  Zhuzai means to master, mastery, as well as the master. De Bary explains zhuzai in Zhu Xi’s thought as “the master … in the mind which controls human impulses and desires, and sees that they do not conflict with reason or what is proper in a given relationship or situation,” in “‘Getting It Oneself’ or ‘Finding the Way in Oneself’ (zide 自得) as a Concept of Self-Realization in NeoConfucian Thought” (De Bary 1991: 30). 11  For discussions on reverence and appropriateness in Confucian ethics, see Wawrytko (1982), Ames and Hall (1984), and Thompson (1988).

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also Qian 1971: ch. 18; Gardner 1986), while the appropriateness of one’s conduct is enhanced through mastery of ritual propriety (li 禮) (Ames and Hall 1984; Ames and Rosemont 1998), and one’s grasp of the indications of pattern. One’s moral motivation springs from one’s reverence for natural/heavenly pattern and humanity, even in the person of oneself.12

3 Zhu Xi’s Ethical Theory: An Overview The contours of Zhu Xi’s implicit ethical theory are evident: the stuff of morality involves aiming at propriety (zheng 正), fairness, and impartiality (gong 公) in disposition and conduct. What are the affective and cognitive conditions of such disposition and conduct, such moral agency? Zhu Xi’s notion of moral agency is based on his idea of moral will. It is moral will that assures the moral worth of one’s intentions, reflection, and conduct, since it is rooted in reverence and guided by sense of appropriateness. Again, one’s existential resolve to be a moral exemplar flows out of one’s manifestation of reverence. Reverence is the spirit in which one may cultivate moral perspicacity; indeed, the seriousness with which one conducts moral cultivation determines whether one’s volition will transform into moral will. Zhu Xi argues that no matter how appropriate one’s actions might appear in form, if they are motivated at all by selfish desires or private intentions, they are not truly morally worthy; the bottom line is that one must act appropriately in the right spirit and for the right reason—the relevant pattern. Even if one performs a supererogatory act of self-sacrifice, this act too must have been done for the right reasons in the proper spirit to be morally estimable: “To sacrifice one’s life in order to fulfill humaneness” (Analects 15.9), is not a matter of weighing the pros and cons, wanting to fulfill humaneness and then dying. Rather, it is a matter of confronting the sort of situation in which it becomes unbearable to go on living and only death can bring ease, then sacrificing oneself. Bystanders might praise one for thus being capable of fulfilling humaneness; however, such words have nothing to do with one’s intention in acting …. One’s cleaving to the path of virtue is not with an eye to emoluments; one’s tears for the departed express one’s sorrow and are not for the eyes of the living …. If there is any slight mind of doing it “for the sake of others” (Mencius 7B.33), it is not right. Zhang Zai’s 張載 saying, “Learning for the sake of self is just that, with no further purpose,” is another expression of this truth! (Zhu 1980a: [5] 10a: 68).13

Moral will is thus a reflection of one’s moral resolve. In the end, it is this moral will that guarantees one’s actions have no end in mind but are performed simply because they are appropriate; it ensures that they are purely intended. This conception reflects Zhu Xi’s appreciation that human beings have an inborn sense of right and wrong as well as the capacity to make moral choices. He believes that human beings  In the case of sages, such reverence extends to nonhuman life forms. See Chan (1967: 302–3).  This example expresses nuances of virtue ethics; however, it involves the recognition of a categorical side of humaneness, which alone would support such a supererogatory act. 12 13

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are existentially free and responsible to choose to realize their moral nature and go on to determine their actions: it is up to each person to repossess their native moral nature, recognize their moral calling, and strive to be an exemplary person (Thompson 2015: 161–67).

4 Kantian Parallels The basic parallel between Zhu Xi’s and Kant’s ethical theories is the parallel between their conceptions of the will.14 While parallel, these conceptions of the will are products of different intellectual concerns: Kant’s arises out of his transcendental examination of the conditions of moral experience and obligation, Zhu Xi’s arises out of his consideration of the central role played by the mind-heart in moral realization and practice. What is important is their common stress on the mind’s or mind-heart’s volitional function. They both regard the pivot of moral agency to lie in the spirit in which one’s volition is exercised. They share the view that, although mind-heart is endowed with pattern, reason for Kant, insofar as it becomes drawn into the flux and flow of one’s instincts and inclinations, it can lose its moral bearings.15 Consequently, they regard the task of self-cultivation, moral education for Kant, as the effort to transform volition into a moral will, implying a psychologically engaged, combative notion of moral virtue (See Beck 1960: 227–29; Fung 1952–1953, vol. 2: 560; Zhu 1980a: [98] 9a–10b: 52–59). Such self-transformation is to involve achieving moral self-mastery such that one’s volition is brought under the banner of pattern, reason, and dedicated to acting according to appropriateness, what is right for Kant (Beck 1960: 235; Kant 1964: 67–68; Kant 1963: 138–47).16 Morally estimable conduct for Zhu Xi and Kant is action which expresses the determination of moral will. Again, moral will is grounded in reverence for pattern, reason, and is guided by mastery of pattern, reason, as registered in the maxims, norms, rituals, and standards of conduct. To assert that moral conduct is action that expresses one’s moral will is to maintain that it is properly intended, and that it is done purely from appropriateness, rightness for Kant. These two features of morally estimable conduct indicate two further parallels between Zhu Xi’s and Kant’s ethical theories. The first one pertains to the quality  Kant’s clearest exposition of will occurs in Book One of Religion Within the Limits. See Kant (1960) and J. Silber (1960: xciv–cvi). Regarding Zhu Xi’s position, Chan points out, “That which unites and commands both human nature and feelings, according to Chang Tsai [Zhang Zai], is the mind. By uniting and commanding is meant the mind unifying itself by harmonizing man’s nature and feelings and by transforming the human mind into the moral mind (way mind), hence, the possibility of morality.” (Chan 1963: 590) 15  See Kant (1960: 40–42): “Man himself must make himself into whatever, in a moral sense, whether good or evil, he is or is to become. Either condition must be an effect of his free choice; for otherwise he could not be held responsible for it and could therefore be morally neither good nor evil.… Man … is created for good and the original predisposition in man is good ….” 16  The Chinese expression zhuzai is often used to mean self-mastery, self-discipline. 14

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of moral intentionality registered in their respective notions of respect (Achtung; reverentia) and reverence (jing 敬). The second one pertains to the action’s being done from one’s sense of appropriateness, and in accord with pattern, maxim for Kant, registered in their respective notions of acting from appropriateness (yi 義) and from duty (aus Pflicht). Zhu Xi and Kant see a functional unity between these two features. Kant believes that one’s moral intentions will be reflected in a persistent striving to fulfill the demands of duty. This striving expresses one’s consciousness of the categorical force of the moral law; it is what authenticates one’s respect for the moral law.17 Zhu Xi characterizes jing and yi as comprising a single process in the self-mastery expressed through exercises of one’s moral will. Zhu Xi and Kant moreover envisage a pure element in consciousness in connection with pattern and reason, respectively. Zhu Xi calls this pure element daoxin 道 心 (way mind) and Kant calls it Wille (practical reason). They characterize the moral transformation of volition as its acting from this pure element as opposed to from competing heteronomous elements, the feelings, inclinations, desires, and the like. They postulate this pure element in volition as an expression of the moral predisposition they hold to be common to all people, but which one can only realize through moral training and practice. Our purpose in exploring these parallels between Zhu Xi’s and Kant’s ethical theories is mainly to cast light on Zhu Xi’s ethical insights and contributions. We concentrate on Zhu Xi’s concepts of moral will (zhuzai 主宰), reverence, and appropriateness in order to focus on his view of the foundation of morality (Kupperman 1983: 49–67). We shall not go into other aspects of his practical philosophy, such as the virtues and feelings. In a sense, we are examining the frame of reference for understanding the other elements of his moral thinking. Zhu Xi explicitly maintains that reverence and appropriateness grasped together in moral will are the proper foundation of moral realization and practice (Zhu 1980a: [12] 14b: 128). For instance, when asked how a person’s “straightening oneself within through reverence and squaring oneself without by appropriateness” could be sufficient for one to be considered a person of humaneness, Zhu Xi replies that these conditions are sufficient for becoming a person of humaneness because, “If a person were able to eliminate their selfish desires completely so that natural/ heavenly pattern found a place to operate therein, that person could be said to be of humaneness” (Zhu 1969a: [4] 6b). By cultivating reverence and appropriateness, one would have “no slight trace of selfish intention, and humaneness would be naturally present within” (Zhu 1969a: [4] 6b). This process can take place because of one’s moral predisposition: “The mind-heart’s basic content is translucently vacuous and perspicacious. There being no slight complication of selfish desire present, the virtues of the mind-heart would always be preserved” (Zhu 1977: [46] 15a).18

 A recurrent theme in Kant’s ethical writings. See Kant (1956: 74–82; 1959: 17–18n2). See also Beck (1960: 217–36). 18  Zhuzi quanshu presents this quotation together with the two preceding quotations. 17

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These parallels between Zhu Xi’s and Kant’s ethical thought are instructive because since Kant worked his theory out with attention to theoretical grounds, his theory can highlight the ethical grounds of Zhu Xi’s moral concepts. In fact, the present account emerged from the author’s probe of the moral significance of Zhu Xi’s notion of reverence. While Kant’s concept of Achtung seemed to offer at least superficial similarities with Zhu Xi’s notion of jing, further inquiry disclosed a deep and significant parallel between them. Indeed, Kant’s treatment of the relation between Achtung and moral will give the author a fresh appreciation of Zhu Xi’s ideas of reverence and moral will; it stirred him to focus on Zhu Xi’s neglected notion of zhuzai. This notion ties everything together and justifies our regarding Zhu Xi’s ethical thought as forming a moral theory. Indeed, there are fundamental differences between Zhu Xi’s and Kant’s ethical theories owing to differences between their approaches to moral will and respective conceptions of pattern and reason, both as the ground of moral law and in relation to the constitution of reality. There are differences of detail, as well, owing to differences between their moral traditions. These include details of conceptual content, presupposition, and practical implication, as well as of family and social structure, scope of relevance, and so forth. Broadly, for Zhu Xi, moral experience takes its life within the sphere of human relationships; Confucian moral concepts are defined in terms of human relationships, while Kant’s moral concepts are conceived of as derived from reason itself and reflective of the moral necessity to treat bearers of reason with respect as ends in themselves. Such differences notwithstanding, I maintain that the parallels between their ethical theories hold well enough to shed light on Zhu Xi’s ethical theory.

5 Kant’s Theory of Moral Will Kant’s conception of moral will springs from his insight that free action is deliberate action. On this view, while impulsive or instinctive action seems to enjoy the freedom of spontaneity (Beck 1960: 179), it is determined by causal conditions and thus is not truly free. However, insofar as one determines one’s action on the basis of reflection according to reasons of one’s choice, it is free. Hence, a meaningful exercise of will involves reason. To express will effectively, one must be cognizant of the situation and how things work in the world (Beck 1960: 34–36); to express the will morally one has to grasp the principles behind the maxims of one’s actions. Kant thereby rescued the conception of will from the “rational desire” model of his Wolffian predecessors to formulate his own “faculty of acting according to the conception of a law” view (Beck 1960: 38). Moreover, Kant affirms that this law must be the product of reason, if it is to be able to generate a universal system of ethics. Only reason is adequate to play this role because reason goes beyond the empirical order to form “an ideal order of systematic connection” which one explores “according to regulative ideas” (Beck 1960: 38). One must use theoretical reason to author the moral law; one has to apply practical reason to assert the moral

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law in conduct. Hence, only if reason can become practical can ethics as “universal practical philosophy” be possible (Beck 1960: 39). The rational desire model of will is inadequate to the demands of ethical theory and fails to provide an account of moral agency, responsibility, and action. Kant still recognizes impulse, inclination, and instinct as factors in volition and action while affirming the necessity of practical reason for setting maxims of action. Practical reason embodies one’s grasp of right and wrong; it also involves applying that comprehension in determining courses of action (Beck 1960: 39–40). This law must bear no particular relation to the empirical world order or to a person’s makeup, needs, and/or desires; “if there were an unconditional; practical law, it could be discovered only by a reason that is intrinsically practical” (Beck 1960: 38). Given that this moral law is necessary, universal, and independent of human interests, one’s respect for it produces the moral feeling, respect (Achtung; reverential), and the moral motive, duty (Pflicht). One who respects the moral law and acts from duty is one who realizes moral will and may be termed a person of good will. Kant argues that truly moral actions are just those that satisfy these conditions in Foundations of the Metaphysics of Morals (Kant 1959) and that these conditions can be met in Critique of Practical Reason (Kant 1956). Moral will for Kant is constituted by reason and yet is rooted in the person. As the interface between reason and practice, the moral will is one’s capacity to adopt the moral law and determine actions according to a maxim: will involves the capacities to legislate the moral law and to execute right action under that law. These two capacities reflect the human condition: Humanity dwells and acts in the uncertain yet determined empirical world while remaining cognizant of an ideal world posited by the theoretical reason they assert in practice. These two capacities of will express its legislative (Wille) and executive (Willkür) aspects, respectively.19 Kant develops the notion of the legislative, law-giving aspect of will from his Foundations account of freedom as autonomy, defining autonomy as “the property of the will to be a law unto itself,” which “only exercises the principle that we should act according to no other maxim than that which can have itself as a universal law for its object. And this is just the formula of the categorical imperative. Therefore, all free wills under moral laws are identical” (Kant 1959: 65). For Kant, such autonomy reflects the will’s regarding “itself as the author of its principles, independently of foreign influences; consequently, as practical reason or as the will of a rational being, it must regard itself as free” (Kant 1959: 67). Kant develops the notion of an executive aspect of will from his Critique of Pure Reason (Kant 1929) account of the spontaneity of will, that is, its capacity to initiate new causal sequences. This occurs when one is spurred by an interest, impulse, or desire, yet is guided by the Willkür, which directs it by a rule or maxim. Willkür thus serves to translate law into maxims of action. Kant argues that for actions to be moral, their maxims must conform to the moral law: Wille, the source of moral law  These two aspects of will are discussed in Kant (1964: lii, 11–12, 21, 26–27; 1960: xcv –cvi). See also Beck (1960: 176–208; Meerbote 1982: 69–84; and Benton 1980: 181–201). I use the German terms for will, which express the two key facets of will. 19

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in each person, presents the moral principles, which Willkür observes in forming maxims of action. How does Wille author the moral law? Lewis White Beck answers, Wille “is free in that its decrees (for the Willkür) follow from its own nature” as reason (Beck 1960: 180). Necessary and universal, “it does not counsel, but commands, and its commands are as a principle, not as an agent” (Beck 1960: 180). The Wille, Beck adds, gives a law that the latter (the Willkür) would obey, were it holy, i.e., if the Willkür fully realized its potentialities of purity. The law is found not by seeking something outside the Willkür but by a regression upon the conditions of its full freedom, conditions not actually realized in the natural man. Thus, Kant explicitly says we find Wille by regression upon the conditions of Willkür. (Beck 1960: 199)

Wille is constituted by one’s rational nature and grounds one’s moral predisposition. It gives rise to the moral law as expressive of its nature as reason. It is not ipso facto the good will, however; one must respect the moral law for its authority and universality so that Wille will legislate it as the determining ground of Willkür. The moral worth of Wille springs, not merely from its rational nature, but by virtue of one’s determination “to accomplish its purpose, and … to achieve its end” (Kant 1959: 10). Humanity is born with a will, a moral predisposition, but one must strive to realize this predisposition by manifesting Wille as a good will, that is, by respecting the moral law and conducting oneself dutifully. We noted that the Wille plays a legislative role as the source of the moral law in each person as a rational agent. Lee Ming-huei raises the question whether Zhu Xi’s conception of will can carry this legislative function, since on his view the will’s regard for heavenly pattern is to be filled out by an apparently empirical process of investigating things to gain knowledge of the patterns defining things and signaling right and wrong and appropriate responses to affairs (Lee 1993). In response, while it might appear that reason yields morality or the demands of morality in and of itself, Kant realizes that human affairs are complicated and that custom, tradition, and even human nature come into play when moral agents form judgments about normative issues and situations. Therefore, in his later years he began to stress the importance of education, habituation and moral development (Louden 2000). How are we to square this with Kant’s theory of reason and Wille as legislative? Kant’s philosophical work on ethics can be divided into that concerning duty and the right, which falls on the legislative side, and that concerning called obligation, and involves culture, tradition, mores, on the executive side (Stern 2017; Grenberg 2013; Denis and Sensen 2015). Now, Kant has these two sides, what about Zhu Xi? I would argue that Zhu Xi has both sides, as well. Once one’s moral will has a full, reverential, grasp of heavenly pattern, everything essential to appropriateness comes clear, and one seizes on the goal of hitting utmost propriety in conduct. What about Zhu Xi’s apparently empirical methodology of investigating things and affairs? With respect to the ethics of affairs, the methodology is not like scientific induction. Rather, it involves viewing new affairs in light of past affairs and one’s holistic grasp of heavenly pattern. It is more a matter of pattern recognition and comparison for

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the purpose of making ethical responses. If, for argument’s sake, we were to liken the patterns in question to propositions, they would be of the form of synthetic a priori judgments, which prescribe morally appropriate responses. In summary, Wille for Kant makes humanity aware of the moral law in virtue of its rational nature. In this regard, the moral law has no source, empirical or supernatural, besides the Wille of the moral agent. This Wille, faced with competing incentives arising from the empirical human nature (Axinn 1981: 169–74), must affirm and legislate the moral law out of respect. It actualizes its moral command by legislating this law as the standard of the maxims by which Willkür will proceed to determine action. This process prepares one to act in view of the moral law (Beck 1960: 113). Willkür adopts this moral law to assess the maxims of action, thereby creating the possibility of acting from duty, that is, of assuring one’s conduct of moral worth.

6 Some Background Considerations Some background considerations are needed to provide context for inspecting the parallels between Zhu Xi’s and Kant’s conceptions of moral will. Zhu Xi and Kant both feel that human action has to have been determined by the agent, if it is to count as moral and if the agent is to be open to moral praise or blame. Their conceptions of will reflect their faith that human action is free action carried out by self-­ determining agents. Kant faces a two-fold problem in this project. He has to produce a conception of will that is (1) not wholly subject to the principle of universal causation as adduced in Newtonian physics, the best scientific theory of his day, but which can effectively utilize that principle in freely determining action, moral or prudential, and that is (2) equal to the universality and necessity he deems to be characteristic of the moral law. Dissatisfied with the Wolffian rational desire conception of will on both counts, Kant formulates his account of will as the faculty whereby reason is made practical. He supplies will with a foundation which is not subject to physical causation but which can initiate new causal sequences. He believes that will as constituted on reason is equal to the requirements of the moral law. He considers this idea of will to be the proper foundation for any possible genuine practical philosophy.20 Zhu Xi’s problem is simpler and less radical than Kant’s because his intellectual milieu lacks the principle of universal causation and the radical opposition between the empirical world of sense and the ideal world of reason. Zhu Xi’s problem arises out of inadequacies he perceives in his contemporaries’ theories of cultivation and moral realization: their theories do not view human nature as voluntary or  Beck and Silber argue that Kant holds that the spheres of causation and reason are two aspects or perspectives of one and the same world, which however cannot be mixed and do not interact (See Beck 1960: 91–194; Silber 1960: xcvii–ciii). See G.  Schrader’s development of this position (Schrader 1975: 65–90). K. Ameriks offers discussion (Ameriks 1982: 230–31n67). 20

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s­ elf-­determining; that is, they portray human action as responsive and cultivation as conditioning. Conceiving natural/heavenly pattern as incorporated in responsive action, they do not regard cultivation as aimed at a cognitive grasp of pattern; it is to elicit the pattern within to guide one’s reflexive responsive actions. They believe that natural/heavenly pattern is the nexus of the interactions, which underlie the world, society, family, and each person; hence, if one correctly intuits and manifests natural/heavenly pattern in conduct, one will ipso facto be an exemplary person. Zhu Xi wrote some letters to explain his disagreement with Zhang Shi’s theory of moral action and why Zhu developed his new theory. He notes for example that Zhang Shi’s theory construed the mind-heart and mental phenomena as part and parcel of the flow of the emotions, to which the nature is related as ground. Zhang Shi held that the nature and emotions comprise the substance of mental phenomena, and that mental phenomena are epiphenomena of the nature–emotions matrix and responses. Citing the Cheng brothers, Zhu Xi counters that the nature and the emotions are aspects of mind-heart, which are prominent during its pre-aroused and aroused states, respectively. He writes, for example, It seems to me that in every discussion … of the Cheng brothers they consider the time when the thoughts and deliberations have not been aroused and when things and affairs have not come up to constitute the pre-aroused state of the emotions. At such times, this characterizes the silent, unmoving content of mind-heart, which embraces the nature conferred by heaven. Because it is free of excess and deficiency and has no imbalance or bias, it is described as zhong 中 (tranquil, in equilibrium). When it is stirred and its responses penetrate the phenomena of the world, the emotions are aroused and the operations of mind-heart are discernible. Because its responses never fail to be on the mark and are free of deviation, they are described as he 和 (in harmony, or harmonizing). This constitutes the upright human mind-heart and the virtues of the nature and the emotions. (Zhu 1980b: [64] 30b–31b)

With this, Zhu Xi set forth his view of the conceptual and practical priority of the mind-heart such that it is mind that determines the disposition and expression of the nature and the emotions. As noted, Zhu develops this view into a command conception of mind-heart, rooted in an integrative principle of volition.21 He continues, On further inquiry, I realized this truth: we must regard the mind-heart as the will in our discussions, for then our account of the efficacious virtue of the nature and the emotions and the subtle qualities of tranquility/equilibrium and harmony will be orderly and not tangled. In one’s life, each act of moral perception and response is directed by the mind-heart; this will be the case whether or not one is in action, at rest, silent, or speaking …. The mind-­ heart is the master of the person, whether or not one is in action, at rest, silent, or speaking. Being humane is the proper way to engage this mind-heart and manifesting reverence yields the chasteness of the mind-heart. (Zhu 1980b: [32] 26b–29b)

In summary, once one appreciates the volitional character of the mind-heart, one realizes vividly that the onus of self-cultivation and moral realization lies within oneself.  Beck suggests that Kant’s conception of will as practical reason expresses a necessary condition for the possibility of an agent’s “internal unity of practice” (Beck 1960: 47–48, 70–71). 21

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7 Zhu Xi’s Conception of Moral Will The mind-heart constitutes and directs a person’s mental-emotive life. It is channeled by the nature and expressed through the emotions; its proper command depends on their grounding and produces their integration (Zhu 1980a: [5] 6b: 55–57).22 Zhu Xi understands the nature as the pattern of the mind-heart (xin zhi li 心之理) and as expressed through the emotions (fa yu qing 發於情), and the emotions as rooted in the nature but directed by the mind-heart. Zhu Xi discusses Mencius’ moral psychology to highlight how the mind-heart exercises its command by virtue of its unity with the nature and the emotions (Zhu 1980a: [5] 8b: 65–67). At the same time, Zhu Xi characterizes mind-heart as the control center (Zhu 1980a: [5] 8b: 6),23 through which one’s thoughts, intentions, even states of mind are directed. The mind-heart is “the seat of discerning intelligence, which serves as a person’s will” (Zhu 1980a: [98] 7b: 42). Zhu Xi considers this volitional capacity of mind to be cognitive; hence, he takes volition to be premised on the acquisition of knowledge, that is, one’s sensitivity to the manifold indications of pattern (Zhu 1980a: [46] 3–b: 12 & 13). Zhu Xi’s conception of pattern, when manifested as the nature in each person, denotes the formal ground of their mental functions. The nature thus constitutes the basic disposition of mind-heart. Given this nature such as it is, the mind-heart is disposed to perceive phenomena and trigger responses that we recognize as distinctly human. Zhu Xi also characterizes the nature as “the ground of the mind” (Zhu 1980a: [98] 7b: 4).24 stating that “the mind-heart is certainly that which is stimulated, but the reason it can be stimulated and responsive in that way is because of these patterns that lie within it” (Zhu 1980a: [99] 4b: 25); Zhu Xi adds, “because there is this nature, the mind-heart is stimulated by things in this way” (Zhu 1980a: [99] 4b: 25–26). The emotions are expressions of the nature in this stimulus– response nexus. They spur and give emotive content to one’s actions. As the emotions are basically good, they also provide testimony to the quality and character of one’s embodied nature (See Graham 1986). Zhu Xi thus insists that the mind-heart and the nature and the emotions in a cultivated person are integrated and operate as a single process: “The mind-heart is that which is stimulated while the emotions are what manifest its responses. These emotions are rooted in the nature and directed by the mind-heart (Zhu 1980b: [32] 7a: 5, under ‘Da Zhang Jingfu 答張敬夫’).”25  Quoted and discussed in Qian (1971, vol. 2: 35).  Zhu Xi describes a person’s mind-heart is their zongnao 總腦. 24  Literally, “The nature is the mind-heart’s tiandi 田地.” (Rice paddy land, which is framed for cultivation and irrigation. That frame corresponds to the nature vis-à-vis the mind-heart.) 25  As long as the emotions are balanced and express the nature, they will be positive. Inappropriate emotions could be expressed on the basis of misperceptions and erroneous views. Excessive emotions as well as emotions spurred by personal desires, say, can also stray off the mark and risk bad or evil impulses, responses, and deeds. The function of cultivation is to sharpen one’s perceptivity and make one epistemologically cautious; moreover, it is to rein in and manage the emotion and desires. 22 23

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Again, as a Confucian, Zhu Xi emphasizes the moral content of the nature. Given his belief that the nature is comprised of the pattern endowed in a person, he maintains that, “the nature is the various patterns that one receives from nature/heaven, which are embodied in one’s heart-mind” (Graham 1986). Zhu Xi further points out, That which nature/heaven confers is called the bright conferment; that which I receive of it within myself is called the bright virtue. There is originally just this integrated moral pattern; people just need to preserve these attendant virtues. Having preserved them within, they will be equipped to be loyal when serving their sovereign and filial when serving their parents …. [One must] preserve the mind-heart to realize the nature and manifest these moral patterns. How could one who fails to preserve them directly but who tries to carry them out by other means, expect to be able to apply them appropriately? (Zhu 1980a: [17] 14b: 51)

Zhu Xi spells out the moral content of the nature in terms of the cardinal virtues stressed by Confucius and Mencius (See Fung 1952–1953, vol. 1: 43–75, 106–31): humaneness (ren 仁) (See Chan 1955, 1975),26 appropriateness (yi 義) (Ames and Hall 1984), ritual propriety (li 禮) (See Ames and Hall 1984),27 and wisdom (zhi 智).28 Noting that “these four virtues are embraced in the human mind-heart as the content of human nature,” Zhu Xi reasons that, “Because all of these virtues lie integrated within the mind-heart, it has the capacity to trigger appropriate responses whenever it is stimulated” (Zhu 1980a: [27] 10a: 45). Indeed, the nature is a key assumption of Zhu Xi’s notion of learning for the sake of the self. It lays the foundation of one’s pursuit of knowledge. Since the mind-heart contains this foundation, each person has the responsibility to learn and apply this basic knowledge. Zhu Xi makes the claim, In general, all moral patterns are already my possession: they do not come from without. What is called knowledge is simply a matter of grasping these moral patterns. It is not to cast off inner understanding to learn other moral patterns out there. Moral patterns are originally one’s own possession, but one must apply one’s understanding of these moral patterns in daily life to realize them in practice. If one has no grasp of them, how could one realize them in practice?” (Zhu 1980a: [17] 11a: 39)

Zhu Xi also maintains that the classical Confucian curriculum of learning was aimed at attainment of the Way by the realization of the moral patterns within. He states: “When the sages set up their many programs of instruction, they intended to make people become pure by scraping away at their mind-hearts to elicit and realize the myriad patterns invested within” (Zhu 1980a: [23] 21b: 107). Zhu Xi consolidates his command conception of the mind-heart with this theory of human nature. The nature bestows a moral predisposition; it is the source of one’s sense of humanity and charges one’s life with meaning and purpose. It thus involves a moral call as  See also Thompson (2016), which concentrates on Ren.  See also Wawrytko (1982). 28  For Zhu Xi, wisdom is a product of one’s cultivated sense of propriety and appropriateness. It constitutes the cognitive base for one’s moral perceptivity zhijue 知覺 and activity yundong 運動, and comprises one’s repository of learning, experience, and observation. See Okada (1988) and Thompson (2007). 26 27

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one’s conferment of nature/heaven. What makes this moral call of the nature meaningful is that the mind-heart remains autonomous—and responsible—to choose between good and evil, right and wrong for oneself. Whether one is to become a good or a bad person indeed will depend on the moral choices one makes. Furthermore, to be good and act with propriety will depend on one’s moral comprehension and acuity. For Zhu Xi, these are prerequisites of moral self-command: “The mastery of one’s mind-heart must be based on this nature; by practicing reverence to preserve this mind-heart, one can nurture and avoid harming this nature” (Zhu 1980b: [32] 9a, under “Da Zhang Jingfu”). Genuine moral will is to be realized by cultivating the grounds of volition. The moral will is to develop and emerge in step with one’s maturing reverence for natural/heavenly pattern, guided by one’s growing knowledge and sensitivity to the indications of pattern. Therefore, the moral exemplar is one who “establishes oneself on the basis of reverence and who acts according to appropriateness” (Zhu 1980b: [43] 32a: 21, under “Da Lin Zezhi 答林擇之”). The moral exemplar is a person whose “mind continuously preserves and stores up this pattern within: whenever they speak, their words are … in accord with propriety, and whenever they act their deeds are … in accord with ritual propriety” (Qian 1971, vol. 2: 212).

8 Kant and Zhu Xi on Volition and Moral Mindedness Zhu Xi deems it imperative to regard the mind-heart as the seat of volition in order to be able to make sense of self-cultivation, moral realization, and appropriate human action. He works out the view that, while mind-heart is rooted in the nature and expressed through the emotions, it existentially determines which elements of the entire of palate of the nature on which it will form itself and express itself. Zhu Xi thus argues that a person’s cultivation efforts must be focused on the mind-heart as volitional core for them to properly choose and illuminate the moral dimension of their nature: only on the basis of the mind-heart’s proper discharge of its command function can a person manifest their nature and emotions properly in a rich and full moral life. Kant’s ethical theory sheds light on Zhu Xi’s moral insights. Kant recognizes the detrimental effect that naïve concepts of human nature can have on ethical theory and moral practice. Such concepts may weaken and even undermine such crucial moral concepts as freedom and responsibility (Beck 1960: 101–2; Axinn 1981: 169–74). Loathe, therefore, to discuss human nature per se, Kant recasts that concept in terms of incentives produced by various aspect of the self, which are presented to the Willkür (See Silber 1960: xciv–ciii). He specifies two main types of incentives: those presented by the rational nature and moral, and those presented by the sensuous nature and prudential. The function of Willkür is to select from among the incentives to determine one’s course of action. Although an incentive might be pressing, it cannot be determinative unless the Willkür makes it so. The Willkür sets

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its own priorities from among the incentives presented to it; the disregarded incentives don’t vanish but are to become supporting conditions. Kant thus introduces the view that the experience of moral obligation, which gives rise to the experience of the Willkür as free of sensuous determination, itself presupposes the presence of competing moral and prudential incentives in Willkür (Silber 1960: xcvf). The moral law, which one’s reason spontaneously offers up, “informs us of the independence of our Willkür from determination by other incentives (of our freedom) and at the same time of our action” (Silber 1960: xcv–xcvi). Further, because the Willkür is structured on reason and is the expression of reason made practical, Kant considers its determinations to be in conformity with the moral law and thus valid expressions of its freedom” (Silber 1960: lxxxix–xciv, cxxviii–cxxx). Zhu Xi establishes a model of volition in rethinking the relationships among the mind, nature, and emotions and in supporting the concept of mind-heart as volitional core. Moreover, Zhu Xi does not need to draw the radical distinction between a person’s rational and sensuous natures, as Kant does. The emotions themselves for Zhu Xi are also rooted in the nature conferred by nature/heaven, though a person might go astray if they do not strive to establish the moral command of their mind-­ heart. He does, following Zhang Zai, admit the real presence of competing incentives, which spring from the moral nature and bio-physical nature (See Chan 1957: 773–91 [rpt. 1969: 88–116]). Whereas Kant holds that a person’s rational and sensuous natures form an irreconcilable opposition that cannot be overcome or integrated (Benton 1980: 186–87), Zhu Xi affirms that because one’s bio-physical nature is also a manifestation of pattern, it can be cultivated and brought into harmony with the moral nature: through cultivation, the mind-heart may come to revere the pattern invested within; through dedicated moral practice, one can effectively transform one’s bio-physical nature and its responsive tendencies. How could the rational nature offer an incentive capable of stirring the Willkür to choose it. Do the push and pull of the sensuous impulses and desires not overwhelm the cool considerations of reason? Kant construes the rational nature as built into the Willkür on which it exerts a force from within by virtue of its rational composition. It produces in human volition an entrenched moral predisposition, which opposes the sensuous inclinations (Silber 1960: cii–cvi). This moral disposition strengthens with one’s growing consciousness of the moral law. With sufficient cultivation, this consciousness of the moral law arouses the purely moral feeling, respect (Achtung) for the moral law, a feeling which is “in itself a sufficient incentive of the Willkür” (Silber 1960: cvi). Kant understands such respect as having a transformative effect on the Willkür: Upon reverencing the moral law in virtue of its majesty and categorical authority, one’s Willkür begins to make the moral law its point of departure in making its determinations. Given its vital role in the formation of moral consciousness and moral will, Kant refers to the moral predisposition as the Wille. It refers to one’s rational nature, one’s inner parcel of reason, and as potentially determinative of one’s courses of action: once one appreciates it, its determinations indeed start to prevail over the competing incentives presented to the Willkür (Silber 1960: cxv).

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Zhu Xi sets forth a similar model of volition in “Preface” to the Doctrine of the Mean.29 He affirms the unity of the mind-heart in its qualities of intelligence and moral perceptivity, but adds that this unity is built on two aspects of the mind-heart, “human mind” (renxin 人心) and “way mind” (daoxin 道心).30 This human mind is the aspect of mind-heart produced from one’s “selfish” bio-physical endowment while the “way mind” arises from one’s nature conferred by nature/heaven. Every person’s mind-heart is an admixture of these two facets. Mind-heart here corresponds roughly to Kant’s volition, which is Willkür, while human mind parallels Kant’s prudential incentives as produced by the sensuous nature, and way mind corresponds to Kant’s moral incentives as produced by the rational nature. Way mind also corresponds to Kant’s moral predisposition, which is Wille; it is quite as pure but not so austere as Kant’s notion of Wille, for it has roots the human emotions, is organically bound up with a person’s bio-physical endowment, and thus does not stand in irreconcilable opposition to the sensuous nature. This model reflects Zhu Xi’s view that the moral task of the mind-heart is to exert control over its human aspect in the purview of its moral, way aspect. This reflects Zhu Xi’s understanding that one must refine one’s intentions such that they are rooted in natural/heavenly pattern and come to be presented to volition as way mind. This is consistent with Zhu Xi’s insistence that the purpose of cultivation is to transform the mind-heart into a moral will founded on natural/heavenly pattern, able to exert moral control, that is, a will which “causes the ‘way mind’ to always serve as the master of the person so that the human mind will heed its decrees on every occasion” (Zhu 1969b, under “Preface” to Zhongyong). In contrast to Kant’s view, this is not just to subject the human mind to the way mind, which it would serve as a supporting condition: it is to effect the transformation of the human mind into the moral mind (See Zhu 1980b: [51] 29a, under “Bie Zhi”; Qian 1971, vol. 2: 114). Zhu Xi’s conception compares with Kant’s view in other respects: when the way mind is established in command of one’s thought and conduct, the decrees that it issues are its autonomous products since they flow from and express its very nature as upright (Beck 1960: 180, 197). Further, because it expresses natural/heavenly pattern, the way mind “does not counsel, but commands, and its commands are, as a principle, not as an agent” (Beck 1960: 180). Zhu Xi thus sets the complex Neo-Confucian notion of human nature into meaningful moral perspective. He accomplishes this by arguing that the mind-heart comprises the volitional core of the person, placing the nature and emotions into the dynamic setting afforded by the mind-heart in this sense.31 He then shows how the nature produces competing moral and selfish aspects in the mind-heart. These aspects are summed up as moral and prudential incentives, as are present to Willkür on Kant’s view. That one’s nature presents a range of incentives to the mind-heart as  Partial translation given in De Bary (1981: 74).  “Way mind” reflects the realization of natural/heavenly pattern in the mind-heart by virtue of the nature conferred by nature/heaven. Moral realization involves the practical identification of moral will with way mind, dedicated to natural/heavenly pattern, and set on doing what is appropriate and hitting utmost propriety in conduct. 31  Cf. G. Schrader’s suggestions for interpreting Kant in Schrader (1975: 65–90). 29 30

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volition reflects Zhu Xi’s understanding that the nature is an integral facet of the mind-heart, and thus that this mind is essentially free in being self-determining and responsible. Zhu Xi portrays the way mind as expressive of the nature conferred by nature/heaven in one’s mind and reflective of one’s interest in creating a place in the mind-heart for an unconditioned moral determining ground. In this way, he seeks to provide an account of moral emotion, conscience, and the possibility of moral self-realization.

9 Kant on Achtung (Respect) and Zhu Xi on Jing 敬 (Reverence) The presence of a parallel between Kant’s conception of Achtung and Zhu Xi’s conception of jing would be of interest to the history of ideas as well as to the interpretation of Zhu Xi’s ethical theory. Such a parallel would surely underscore the moral significance of Zhu Xi’s notion of reverence (See Chan 1963: 784). It would also reaffirm Zhu Xi’s view that one’s intentions must be pure for one’s acts to have moral worth and for that person to be regarded as morally good.32 Such a parallel would demonstrate the depth of Zhu Xi’s ethical insight, at least from a Kantian perspective. First, Achtung and jing in the relevant senses are close in semantic value; they both indicate a feeling of reverence that approaches awe. Warren Harbison points out, “Although there is nowadays something of a consensus that ‘Achtung’ is to be translated as ‘respect,’ it should be translated by ‘reverence’ in view of the facts that Kant repeatedly indicates that he takes ‘Achtung’ to be the German counterpart to the Latin term, ‘reverentia,’ and even distinguishes it from ‘Respekt’ (Kant 1964: 61, 98, 133, 402, 436, 467–68).”33 This characterization of Achtung is reasonable given the link Kant seeks to establish between Achtung, which he defines as the moral feeling, and sublimity, a religio-aesthetic quality that attaches to Achtung in its full sense as awe.34 Achtung as reverence coheres with the rational religious roots of Kant’s ethical theory, which he explores in Religion Within the Limits of Reason Alone (1793), affirming that: “Two things fill the mind with ever new and increasing admiration and awe, the oftener and more steadily we reflect on them: the starry skies above me and the moral law within me” (Kant 1956: 166; Beck 1960: 281–83). Zhu Xi describes jing in many ways in many contexts35; but, whenever pressed to state the content of reverence, to say what jing really is, he mentions awe (wei  W. T. De Bary defines jing as “the motivation for all human action” (De Bary 1981: 14)  See also Harbison (1980: 51n15). 34  See Broadie and Pybus (1975: 502–25; Lazeroff 1980: 202–20, esp. 210–12, and MacBeath 1973: 283–314). 35  See Zhu (1980a: [12] and Qian 1971, vol. 2: 298–335). As noted, A. M. Ch’ien gives a typography of jing in “Hu Chu-jen’s Self-Cultivation” (Ch’ien 1979: 188–99). Hu’s discussions are based on quotations from Zhu Xi. 32 33

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畏). For example, he affirms “jing is just a term for awe” (Zhu 1980a: [12] 8a: 73), and “What sort of thing is jing? It is exactly like awe” (Zhu 1980a: [12] 10b: 98). He declares moreover that jing in the full sense indicates that “there is something awed and reverenced (jing) such that one dares not let oneself dissipate into debauchery. In such a case, one’s body and mind would be collected and orderly as if one were in awe of something. In people who can be like this all the time, this state of mind spurs their moral transformation spontaneously” (Zhu 1980a: [12] 10b: 96). He also says, “Jing does not refer only to times when a person is idle and at rest from the myriad affairs to be faced; it simply indicates their attitude in handling affairs with full concentration, reverence, awe, and without letting things go or falling into dissipation” (Zhu 1980a: [12] 10b: 97). While close in semantic value, there remains a difference between Achtung and jing: Kant discusses Achtung in the context of moral theory, whereas Zhu Xi considers jing in the context of cultivation and moral conduct. While Kant speaks of Achtung with reference to the reverence the person of good will holds for the moral law and the corollary, their duty, Zhu Xi treats jing as a requisite of Confucian cultivation and moral practice and as involving mental purifying, fixing, focusing, being mindful, and keeping alert (See Qian 1971, vol. 2: 298–335). While Achtung takes an object, ultimately, the moral law, jing resolves into an objectless mental discipline, which purifies the emotions and thus opens the mind-heart to natural/ heavenly pattern. At times, Zhu Xi does discuss jing in connection with ethical theory. For Kant, Achtung is “the spring of duty” (See Broadie and Pybus 1975: 519). It is born of consciousness of the moral law and its absolute worth; as such, it is “the submission,” “the direct determination of the will by the law” (Kant 1959, 17–18n2). It is the “effect of the law on the subject and not … the cause of the law” (Kant 1959, 17–18n2). Achtung encompasses one’s reverence for the source of worth in human life, namely, reason, together with carrying out action purely from duty. Kant regards Achtung as a reason-based feeling, “not received through any influence but which is self-wrought by a rational concept” (Kant 1959: 17–18n2). Zhu Xi refrains from treating jing in this fashion because he thinks one must first thoroughly grasp natural/heavenly pattern for the mind-heart to open up to the moral law. Jing is a cultivation discipline, which yields the purity of emotion and clarity of mind-heart needed to intuit natural/heavenly pattern. At the same time, Zhu Xi does not discuss jing as offering full access to natural/heavenly pattern, since a lifetime effort of learning, observing, practicing, and pondering is necessary for one to achieve a full grasp of pattern: “What one studies below is affairs; what one thereby penetrates above is pattern. Pattern lies in the midst of affairs; affairs do not exist apart from pattern. Each thing embraces a particular pattern within; to grasp that very pattern on the basis of that thing is the way to ‘penetrate above.’ … Furthermore, pattern is not separate from one’s daily conduct of human affairs” (Zhu 1980a: [44] 21a: 106).

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Since the exemplary person feels awe for natural/heavenly pattern, and such “awe” for Zhu Xi is the content of jing, it is relevant to examine his comments on Confucius’ remarks on “what the exemplary person holds in awe” (Analects 16.8): “The exemplary person holds three things in awe. He is in awe of the conferment of nature/heaven, great personages, and the words of the sages.” Zhu Xi suggests that, in his view, “conferment of nature/heaven” in this passage signifies the [natural/ heavenly] pattern that comprises a person’s moral nature (Zhu 1969b: Lunyu 8:10b–11a). One who sincerely appreciates the moral import of this conferment will “take it as a blessing from which they cannot deviate.” Zhu Xi affirms that both the great personages and the words of the sages manifest “what is most awe-inspiring of the conferment of nature/heaven,” adding that one who understands ‘holding the conferment of nature/heaven in awe” is certainly bound to do so”(Zhu 1969b: Lunyu 8:10b–11a).36 Analects 16.8 continues, “The mean man does not grasp the conferment of nature/heaven, and thus does not hold it in awe. Such a person will slight the great personages and jest about the words of the sages.” Zhu Xi observes that because such a person “does not grasp the conferment of nature/heaven, they do not recognize the patterns of appropriateness and do not hold this sort of matter in deference or respect” (Zhu 1969b: Lunyu 8:10b–11a). Zhu Xi thinks of reverence in the full sense as involving an appreciation of the conferment of nature/heaven. Zhu Xi’s account of reverence in a moral exemplar is akin to Kant’s notion of Achtung as a “rationally wrought feeling.” Zhu Xi further comments on Analects 16.8, The three-character expression, “to hold the conferment of nature/heaven in awe,” is tantamount to asserting that to grasp moral pattern is to reverence it and that to dare not go astray in conduct is to hold it sincerely in awe. For example, one’s not seeing, hearing, doing, or saying what is contrary to ritual propriety and one’s being constantly apprehensive, watchful, fearful, and cautious are all manifestations of one’s holding this conferment of nature/ heaven in awe. Nevertheless, one must fully grasp the conferment of nature/heaven to existentially manifest it and carry it out. One has to devote oneself to the pursuit of this knowledge; one who really grasps (the conferment of nature/heaven) cannot but hold it in awe. (Zhu 1980a: [46] 3a–3b: 12–13)

Respecting the conferment of nature/heaven in the sense of awe, one still must continue to investigate things, as described in the Advanced Learning (Daxue 大學)37 as the best way to acquire a precise yet comprehensive practical knowledge of pattern: “One’s knowledge can be extended only after one has investigated things; the essential requirement is that one has acquired knowledge. A person ‘knows’ they should not do what is not good; thus, one still who goes ahead and does what is not good does not genuinely know it (zhenzhi 真知)” (Zhu 1980a: [46] 3a–3b: 13). Zhu Xi holds that one will feel reverence in the full sense of awe at the very moment one has genuine knowledge of natural/heavenly pattern:  Ibid. Somewhat reminiscent of Socrates’ teaching that nobody knowingly does wrong on the premise that to know goodness involves actually doing what is good and just at the right times. 37  For English, see Chan (1963: 84–94). Qian presents and discusses many of Zhu Xi’s comments on investigating things (Qian 1971, vol. 2: 504–50). See also Gardner (1986). 36

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The reason why many people are unable to gain genuine knowledge of moral pattern is because their grasp of matters is superficial. They do not comprehend moral pattern’s essential content and thus have this blemish. Their superficial understanding is all right as far as it goes; nonetheless, they have not penetrated matters sufficiently to discern their essential content. This is why, for the Advanced Learning injunction to discern the patterns without by … investigating the affairs at hand to be significant and efficacious, it is necessary to have an inner comprehension of that pattern as one’s personal verification so that one’s knowledge may be essential and precise. (Zhu 1980a: [46] 3a–3b: 13)

Genuine knowledge consists in having a thorough grasp of the pattern in question. Zhu Xi considers that this grasp of pattern has an inner dimension, i.e., “one’s personal verification,” which gives rise to the feeling of reverence as awe for the moral pattern such that one will consciously manifest this grasp in upright character and moral conduct. Zhu Xi reiterates the main points in concluding: “If one does not hold moral pattern in awe while conducting daily affairs, there is no chance one will handle them entirely appropriately …. The first requirement is that one have knowledge; on that basis, one will begin to feel awe. But such knowledge always varies in depth …. only if one’s knowledge is exhaustive one will feel awe fully and deeply; one’s only fear will be of going astray unconsciously in conduct” (Zhu 1980a: [46] 3a–3b: 13). Taken together, Zhu Xi’s comments on the awe an exemplary person feels for the conferment of nature/heaven indicate a significant parallel between Zhu Xi’s conception of jing in the full sense of awe and Kant’s conception of Achtung. Such jing is borne of a person’s grasp of moral pattern and is realized in moral will. Thus fulfilled, jing is the inner spring of the exemplary person’s upright conduct. Notice that Kant fashioned Achtung in tracing the formal conditions of the experience of obligation and morality whereas Zhu Xi proposed jing as a requisite of moral cultivation, realization, and practice. While Zhu conceives of jing as an attitude of moral sensitivity and responsiveness that involves alertness and mindfulness, Achtung is fraught with other-worldly overtones though it can be said to also condition one’s attitude toward others.

10 Kant on Pflicht (Duty) and Zhu Xi on Yi 義 (Appropriateness) Pflicht and yi resist point-by-point comparison.38 They rely on their respective moral traditions for specification; their content and practical implications remain open to discussion even within their respective traditions; and they guide moral conduct in different ways. Parallels between them hold nonetheless in light of their relationship to Achtung and the moral law in Kant and jing and natural/heavenly pattern in Zhu Xi.

 Fung discusses the Confucian concept of yi along Kantian lines (Fung 1947: 11–16). R. T. Ames and D. Hall, make the case for interpreting yi as appropriateness (Ames and Hall 1984). See also Thompson (1988). 38

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Kant’s view, in fine, is that “duty is the necessity of an act done from respect for the law” (Kant 1959: 16; see Beck 1960: 225). This view is based on his understanding that, “respect for the law, which is, subjectively, called the moral feeling, is identical with the consciousness of one’s duty” (Beck 1960: 226). To comprehend the moral law is to know where one’s duty lies; to respect that law is to be disposed to act dutifully when the occasion calls, simply because it is right. In effect, “respect for the law is not the incentive to morality, but it is morality itself” (Beck 1960: 226; see Kant 1956: 78). That is to say, the full-bloom of respect consolidates one’s moral will and flows forth into the necessity to act from duty. The necessity to act dutifully is at once objective and subjective. The objective necessity of duty reflects the requirement of the moral law as determined by reason. Everyone has the objective obligation to keep promises and to refrain from lying (Beck 1960: 226). The subjective necessity of duty reflects the constraints that one’s consciousness imposes on thought and conduct in recognition of the objective requirements laid down by the moral law (Beck 1960: 216–17). Such self-imposed constraints, such subjective necessitation, which flow from and manifest one’s respect for the moral law, constitute the subjective foundation on which one fulfills the objective requirements, the imperatives, which follow from the moral law. At the same time, Kant understands that in humanity, not just as moral beings,39 but as living creatures of mixed composition, reason and sensuous nature give rise to a warring admixture of good and bad proclivities. Observing the relentless pull of the latter and considering that one cannot always ascertain one’s own motives with certainty (Kant 1959: 22–25), Kant reflects that the moral conception of duty must be tailored to the human condition when the ethical analysis is shifted from “pure foundations” to the “metaphysics of morals” and normative ethics. Hence, as Paul Dietrichson shows, Kant eventually redefines humanity’s basic moral duty as “not to succeed, but merely to strive to succeed in making our reverent thought of the moral law a sufficient incentive for acting in conformity with the legality requirement of that law” (Dietrichson 1961–1962: 277–88, esp. 282). Dietrichson continues, “According to Kant, striving of that type is not a striving for purity of heart; it is purity of heart. So that very type of striving is what constitutes purity of heart, good will, obedience to the ‘spirit of the moral law,’ fulfillment of the requirement to act ‘from duty’” (Dietrichson 1961–1962: 277–88). For a person to satisfy the ideal requirements of duty, all one can do is to devote oneself to this striving “with all of one’s power.” Kant asserts, “Our abilities would probably for the most part have remained unused if we were not supposed to be resolved to assert our power to produce an envisioned object until we had assured ourselves of the sufficiency of our abilities to produce that object. For we usually learn to know our powers only by trying them out” (Dietrichson 1961–1962: 277–88; see Kant 1914: 15–16n1).40

 A recurrent theme in Kant’s ethics; for example, see Kant (1959: 21).  This notion of striving intimates an existential theme that is developed by Kierkegaard in The Concluding Unscientific Postscript (Kierkegaard 1992). The author compares Kierkegaard and Zhu Xi in Thompson (2015). 39 40

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A parallel between duty and yi in Zhu Xi’s ethics comes clear when we realize Kant’s insistence that one’s duty and devotion to morality must be manifested in continual striving to resist heterogeneous inclinations, impulses, and desires, and to act dutifully out of respect for the moral law (Dietrichson 1961–1962: 282–88). Kant stresses that such duty and devotion to the moral law does not arise simply from one’s disposition to act in accord with the dictates of the moral law41; virtue in humanity is always embattled, so humanity’s moral call requires our conscious efforts to sustain the inclination to act morally. Again, given the mixed character of human nature, this has to be an ongoing endeavor. In short, the focus of Kant’s notion of duty shifts from a concern to specify the conditions of genuine moral actions to a more basic concern to chart the problematic of moral realization in light of humanity’s “final destination.” Hence, by considering that human beings aspire to be good people, Kant’s ethics evolves into a sort of cultivation theory. In Zhu Xi’s thought, yi is not a mere moral standard; it plays a role in the formation and life of an exemplary person. Zhu Xi endorses Cheng Hao’s assertion that “Jing is how one straightens oneself within while yi is how one squares oneself without” and claims that “this is the way to become a person of humaneness. If one endeavors to practice jing expressly for the purpose of straightening oneself within, one will not be successful. But, if one is ‘always doing something without expectation,’ one will spontaneously become straight within” (See Chan 1967: 139). A student asked, “What are the conditions for becoming a person of humaneness?” Zhu Xi replied, These two conditions are sufficient for becoming a person of humaneness, for whenever one’s selfish desires can be eliminated so that natural/heavenly pattern operates freely, their humaneness is expressed. For example, if one were to “study extensively,” “be steadfast in purpose,” “inquire earnestly,” and “reflect on things at hand,” their humaneness would be directly expressed through conducting these endeavors. To “master oneself and practice ritual propriety” is another way to express one’s humaneness. “When one goes out, to treat others as if they were important guests” and “when one employs others, to act as if one is officiating at a major sacrifice” are other ways to express humaneness. To “be respectful in private life, serious in handling affairs, and conscientious in dealing with others” are also ways to express humaneness. One’s ultimate success in conducting oneself in this way will depend entirely on the path one chooses to tread. Once a person has entered the right path, they still must make utmost efforts: such efforts will comprise one’s project of becoming a person of humaneness. (Zhu 1977: [47] 14b; see Chan 1963: 633)

In Zhu Xi’s view, jing is a cultivation attitude and moral feeling; it is involved in purifying the emotions and intentions and reducing the desires while yi refers to moral sensitivity and appropriateness. Yi guides the expression of natural/heavenly pattern in one’s humane conduct. Hence, Zhu Xi mentions a range of cultivation activities for manifesting jing and acting on yi. Consider Wing-tsit Chan has translated a traditional account of Cheng Hao’s definition of jing and yi together with Zhu Xi’s comments:

41

 This is the standard interpretation; see Beck (1960: 226).

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“Jing is how one straightens oneself within” indicates that a person ought not to have the slightest selfish thought but should have a clear and integrated mind-heart. “Yi is how one squares one’s conduct without” indicates that one ought to carry out what is right on seeing what it is and refraining from doing what is wrong on seeing what it is. In this way, one will become square in conduct and upright in person. In this way, one’s selfish desires will be eliminated, one’s natural/heavenly pattern will be activated, and one’s moral character will be preserved. This is why these two sayings are understood to offer the proper way to manifest humaneness. Moreover, the Book of Change does not read, “Use jing as a measure for straightening oneself within”; it reads, “jing is how one straightens oneself within.” The reason for this is that if one practices jing with the express purpose of straightening oneself within, their mind will be biased at the outset. To “be always doing something without expectation” indicates always practicing jing but not for the purpose of achieving any certain result. This is why it is described as straight. (Chan 1967: 139, slightly modified)

Kant conceives of duty as both arising subjectively out of respect for the moral law and as necessitated objectively by virtue of its connection with the imperatives that follow from that law. Respect is that pure mental state, which spurs as well as makes possible actions from duty. Zhu Xi conceives of yi in parallel fashion vis-à-vis jing. After explaining Confucius’ remark that “the exemplary person takes yi as their substance” in terms of seeking to be “square in the conduct of affairs according to yi,” Zhu Xi adds, “if one fails to manifest jing and yet straightens oneself without, that person won’t be equipped to grasp the proper place of yi in learning and practice” (Zhu 1980a: [45] 11a: 47; on Analects 15.18). He further asserts, “one who spontaneously straightens oneself when they manifest jing will also be square in conducting affairs out of yi” (Zhu 1980a: [69] 25a: 144); and, “jing forms the foundation of establishing oneself while yi is the means of handling affairs” (Zhu 1980a: [69] 25b: 148). Finally, Zhu Xi affirms that “jing is how to master oneself within while yi is how to be prepared to act without; one must undertake these two cultivation efforts together” (Zhu 1980a: [95] 30a: 138). In sum, Zhu Xi envisions jing as providing one’s subjective necessitation to act with yi, the affective ground of the sense of appropriateness. At the same time, he envisions yi as providing the objective cognizance to act, and thus to express one’s jing most appropriately. Jing and yi both presuppose the natural/heavenly pattern invested within: jing serves to disclose pattern while yi provides measures by which one may express pattern in conduct. Yi is related to pattern in two ways: on the one hand, it springs from one’s grasp of pattern and participates in acts of moral discernment. It is manifested in one’s discriminations and judgments, regarding right and wrong, permissible and impermissible, and good and bad, etc. (Zhu 1980a: [6] 18a–19b: 123–42); on the other hand, for Zhu Xi pattern provides an objective ground for yi. Given the role of pattern in giving rise to the world order, Zhu Xi understands pattern as providing an objective ground for people to make determinations of yi. Zhu Xi understands yi to consist in a person’s native sensitivity as to what response or course of action would be apt and appropriate. The keenness of this sense and the suitability of the actions it prompts are functions of the quality and level of one’s cultivation and grasp of pattern. Zhu Xi does not conceive of yi as “within pattern,” that is, something fixed and given, but rather as an inner measure by which a person gauges what course would be most appropriate one (Chan 1967:

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60). Yi provides one with the wherewithal to have square dealings with others; it enables one to express pattern in thought and action. The refinement of one’s sense of appropriateness reflects one’s cognizance of pattern; the quality of appropriateness one exhibits in conduct reflects one’s degree of cultivation and practice. Zhu Xi stresses yi out of his concerns to, (1) show how to determine appropriate conduct in all sorts of situations and, more fundamentally, (2) clarify a key link in the process of moral realization in light of one’s moral calling. As in Kant’s view on duty, the latter project (2) provides a frame of reference for pursuing the former (1).

11 Conclusion Zhu Xi’s Kantian parallels highlight the depth of his insight into the foundations of morality (MacIntyre 1966: 196–98; Wolf 1973: 216). They bring out the subtle weave of his ethical view. At the same time, Zhu Xi’s ethical notions occupy a conceptual scheme that is different than Kant’s; they are construed differently and lead different conceptual lives. For Kant, the transcendence and formal character of reason is even more conspicuous in the practical sphere of morality than in the theoretical sphere of knowledge. As borne in the minds of human beings, reason generates practical moral principles inspired by respect for others and validated in observance of the impartiality of the categorical imperative (Kant 1959: 27–29, 44–47, 50–59). Duty in this scheme is the practical product of reverence for the moral law and its practical corollaries, particularly regarding other rational beings, as existential authors and executors of the moral law, and the principled approach to life it enjoins. Kant affirms, “The concept of duty stands in immediate relation to a law (even though I abstract from every end, which is the matter of the law), as is indicated by the formal principle of duty in the categorical imperative: ‘Act so that the maxim of your action can be a universal moral law’” (Kant 1964: 47). Duty expresses moral obligation in a relationship or state of affairs: “Duty is that action to which one is bound. It is therefore the matter of obligation. And there can be one and the same duty (as far as the action is concerned), even though we could be obligated to the action is different ways” (Kant 1964: 22). Duty is determined by a practical syllogism, which shows that one’s situation falls under a valid moral principle, affirming the relevance of that principle and specifying the moral obligation (See Wolff 1973: 66–77; Sullivan 1983: 83–105). The objective necessity flows from its logical connection to the moral law; its subjective necessity flows from one’s reverence for the moral law. Such reverence forms the foundation of being moral and leading the moral life. The logical connection to the moral law ensures the validity and universality of moral obligations. To specify one’s duty, one formulates a syllogism whose validity depends on satisfying the categorical requirement of pure practical reason, “the transcendent but regulative motivational ideal” (Dietrichson 1961–1962: 148–50). Kant shows the dependence of duty on reason as the conclusion of a syllogism in “Fragment of a Moral Catechism” in which “the teacher seeks in his pupil’s reason what he wants to teach him.”

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Kant’s theory presents the relationship of duty to reason (as the source of the moral law) most clearly: one’s duty is a logical derivation from the relevant moral principles. Once ascertained, one’s duty is compelling with the necessity of a law. Zhu Xi’s more organic view, with its implicit perspectivism, is more opague and resists precise specification.42 Zhu Xi believes Cheng Yi’s declaration that “pattern is constituted within things; appropriateness is manifested in dealings with things (others)” (Chan 1967: 16). He agrees that pattern pertains to a thing’s makeup (viewed in context), while appropriateness pertains to the complex of one’s apprehension of and response to that thing (other). Although Zhu Xi appreciates the importance of standard norms for human relationships, such as the father–son relationship, the husband–wife relationship, etc., with ritualized patterns of intercourse, he takes specific occasions and ensembles of people to be the ultimate points of departure: one ought to meet each situation directly on the basis of its features and significance.43 One appreciates the ritualized elements in human relationships, not as binding laws or rules, but more as guides which orient the participants in the lived world: they serve as a framework for nurturing our sense of what is appropriate to do in each encounter. Thus stated, the under-determination of this scheme may make it seem unworkable; however, humanity on Zhu Xi’s view is built to be properly sensitive, perceptive, and responsive (Zhu 1977: [42] 21b; Chan 1963: 619). Humanity has the drive and resources to handle situations in daily life, though it is called on to cultivate those resources and tutor its impulses to consistently hit the mark in action and attain utmost propriety. Though Confucian appropriateness is equivalent to Western moral judgment and duty, it is less reliant on formal classification, assessment, and practical inference than in cultivated perception and intuition. One’s appropriateness presupposes a background of moral understanding, but it essentially involves cultivated moral insight into the matters and affairs at hand.44 To highlight the character of appropriateness, Zhu Xi grasps the metaphor of a sharp knife (Zhu 1980a [6] 18a–19a: 125–40): one approaches a situation, not as a philosopher, nor as a moralist, but as an artisan of life, a craftsperson (Graham 1981: 6–7, 1986: 144–54). Just as a sharp knife is used to cut raw material to make an artifact, to cut through an obstacle, to fend off an adversary, one brings one’s sense of appropriateness  Perspectivism is the philosophical position that there is no absolute or purely objective view or approach to reality; given the multiplicity of the world and the inescapable plurality of views and approaches to “it,” our understanding of the world, of reality, cannot but reflect some perspective on “it.” Zhuangzi 莊子 (c. 369–286 BCE) and Friedrich Nietzsche (1844–1900) express and work out the implications of perspectivism. 43  Cultivation and moral realization involve reflecting on the things at hand; one participates in the way of the early sage kings, not by profound metaphysical speculation, but by carrying out one’s sentiments of filiality and fraternity to the full. That is one’s moral-ethical proving ground and practical moral foundation. 44  Zhijue 知覺 usually means perception; however, a survey of Neo-Confucians’ usage indicates that they often use the expression to express moral perception or, better, perceptivity. Yi is thus registered as an element of zhijue and functions in an aesthetic perceptual way, referring to the Ames–Hall sense of aesthetic (1987). 42

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into play to cut and shape a situation, an encounter, into something structured and meaningful, to resolve an intricate situation, or to field awkward predicaments and turn them to advantage. There is a skill, an art, a finesse to appropriateness that is lacking in Kant’s Teutonic formal notion of duty. Just as artisans express personal style with their knives, one’s acts of appropriateness are expressions of the quality of their moral resources. A person’s expressions of appropriateness articulate their perspective on the lived world; they reflect their working self-definition and shape and manifest their meaning-­world. This knife metaphor dovetails with the Ames and Hall account of Confucius’ appropriateness as a subtle person-centered and meaning-creating moral-philosophical notion (Ames and Hall 1984). How does appropriateness (yi 義) tie in with Zhu Xi’s notion of pattern (li 理)? First, one’s sense of appropriateness is built into the very structure of their perceptions, adding aesthetic nuance as well as moral probity. It is the product of a person’s internal makeup, not just as a human being but as this very human being, here and now, with this personal history. Appropriateness reflects the pattern invested in a person, conditioned by their personal history, as do their manifestations of humaneness, ritual propriety, wisdom, and fidelity. Second, our account of appropriateness as a person’s insight into a situation would be expressed by Zhu Xi as their sensitivity to the pattern’s constituting that situation. Such sensitivity triggers their making apt responses. Again, what is appropriate is not determined by a law but is an organic function of standpoint and situation. At the same time, Zhu Xi preserves the objective reality of the situation by ascribing pattern to it as well as to the person, in order to avoid the subjectivism, which he thought infected the views of many of his contemporaries.45 This too motivates Zhu Xi’s call to investigate things to explore their patterns, the only way he sees to ensure that one’s perspective is not closed or self-centered but informed by an appreciation of the situation itself and ultimately of the subtle weave and rich tapestry of the world. Intriguingly, the source of Zhu Xi’s knife metaphor is the same text that he identifies as the source of the expression “natural/heavenly pattern (tianli 天理)” in pre-­ Qin thought. This source, Zhuangzi’s story of Cook Ding (Graham 1981: 63–64; Zhu 1980a: [125] 11a: 50), gives a tableau vivant of appropriateness in relation to pattern; it is a story to which Zhu Xi often alludes,46 to emphasize a variety of points: that pattern is always embodied and perception is always particular, that in all meaningful thought and practice pattern is to be discerned in concrete circumstances, not in abstraction or meditatively, that pattern is not open to simple direct intuition but requires an apprenticeship of learning, practice and reflection, that discernment of pattern as implicated in phenomena, affairs, and situations involves impulse and response as well as discernment and apprehension. To perceive a state of affairs is to become involved in it; for Zhu Xi this means making the most appro Notably, Lu Jiuyuan 陸九淵 (1139–1193). See Fung (1952–1953, vol. 2: 572–92; and Chan 1963: 572–87). A brief biography of Lu is given in Franke (1976, vol. 2: 675–79). 46  For examples, Zhu (1980a: [10] 2a: 15; [18] 20b–21a; [20] 9a–9b: 55; [34] 17a–17b: 89; [57] 6a: 24; [67] 8a: 35; [125] 11a–11b: 50–51). See also Kasoff (1984: 111). 45

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priate response, hitting the mark. The Neo-Confucians characterize this capacity of a moral exemplar to resolve a difficult situation as daemonic (shen 神). In their view, this capacity is a product of resonance and moral acuity; it reflects one’s cognizance not only of the situation and other people but background features and latent tendencies. Reflecting years of experience, the daemonic empowers one to rechart the landscape of human life and affairs and chart new paths of appropriate conduct. The daemonic for Zhuangzi and Zhu Xi is the result of attaining the sublime by performing the common task.47 In summary, Zhu Xi’s Kantian parallels reflect his recognition of basic conditions of moral agency and action. In enunciating Zhu Xi’s distinguishing features vis-à-vis Kant, we observe these parallel notions settled in the traditional Chinese conceptual landscape and usage. As shown in his treatment of these parallel notions, Zhu Xi’s unfolding of this conceptual landscape manifests his Confucian sense that human life is immersed in human relationships and intercourse. His philosophic enterprise manifests his struggle to articulate how to come to terms with this profound sense of human life, and how to remake oneself from within, as it were, to function as a moral exemplar oneself, dedicated to moral self-realization in this challenging formative human world. As discussed, Kant’s view involves a similar project, however his pessimistic Christian appraisal of the person, as opposed to his ideal of a purely rational being, leads him to conceive ultimate moral realization as possible only in the next world. Quickened by his immanental notion of pattern, Zhu Xi always stays focuses on moral realization as to be prompted and manifested in here and now human life practice. As such, he adds flesh, bone, and feelings to Kant’s austere moral insights in a comprehensive way, which invites further study and reflection. Acknowledgements  The present chapter benefitted greatly from the insightful suggestions of the two editors of this volume. James Sellmann also read the manuscript closely and offered useful comments. Finally, the author extends his appreciation to two anonymous reviewers for their comments and suggestions. Any remaining mistakes or problems are owing entirely to the author.

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 An adaptation of Fung’s thesis, “Chinese philosophy has one main tradition, one main stream of thought. This tradition is that it aims at a particular kind of highest life. But this kind of highest life, high though it is, is not divorced from the daily functioning of human relations. Thus it is both of this world and of the other world, and we maintain that it ‘both pertains to the sublime and yet performs the common task’” (Fung 1947: 3). (On our view, the other world, the sublime, is intimately connected to this world.) 47

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———. 1985. “The Common Ground of Self-Cultivation in Classical Confucianism and Taoism,” Tsing-hua Hsueh-Pao 17: 1–2, rpt. in Taoist Resources 1 (1988) 1: 22–55. Ames, Roger T., and David. L.  Hall. 1984. “Getting It Right: On Saving Confucius from the Confucians.” Philosophy East and West 34: 3–23. ———. 1987. Thinking Through Confucius. Albany: State University of New York Press. Ames, Roger T., and Henry Rosemont. 1998. The Analects of Confucius, A Philosophical Translation. New York: Ballantine Books. (Insightful, culturally, linguistically, and philosophically sensitive approach to the discourses of Confucius.) Angle, Stephen. C., and Michael Slote, eds. 2013. Virtue Ethics and Confucianism. London: Routledge. (Ground-breaking collection of studies on virtue ethics vis-à-vis Confucian ethics.) Anscombe, G. E. M. 1958. “Modern Moral Philosophy.” Philosophy 33.124: 1–19 Axinn, Sidney. 1981. “Ambivalence: Kant’s View of Human Nature.” Kant-Studien 72: 169–74. Beck, Lewis W. 1960. A Commentary on Kant’s Critique of Practical Reason. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Benton, Robert J. 1980. “Kant’s Categories of Practical Reason as Such.” Kant-Studien 71.1–4: 181–201. Berthrong, John H. 1976. “Is Chu Hsi a Process Thinker?” Paper presented at a Conference on Whitehead and Chinese Philosophy in Denver, Colorado. ———. 1998. Concerning Creativity: A Comparison of Whitehead and, Neville, and CHU Hsi. Albany: State University of New York Press. Broadie, Alexander, and Elizabeth M. Pybus. 1975. “Kant’s Concept of ‘Respect.’” Kant-Studien 66.1–4: 58–64. Chan, Wing-tsit. 1955. “The Evolution of the Confucian Concept Jen.” Philosophy East and West 4: 295–319. ———. 1957. “The Neo-Confucian Solution to the Problem of Evil.” In Studies Presented to Hu Shih 胡適 on His Sixty-fifth Birthday, The Bulletin of the Institute of History and Philology, Academia Sinica 28: 773–91. Reprint, 1969  in C.K.H Chen comp. Neo-Confucianism Etc. Essays by Wing-Tsit Chan, 88–116. Hanover: Oriental Society. ———, trans. 1963. Source Book in Chinese Philosophy. Princeton: Princeton University Press. (Premier compilation of writings in traditional Chinese philosophy, with long sections on Zhu Xi and the Neo-Confucian movement.) ———, trans. 1964. “The Evolution of the Neo-Confucian Concept of Li as Principle.” Tsing Hua Journal of Chinese Studies 2: 123–48. ———, trans. 1967. Reflections on Things at Hand. New York: Columbia University Press. (Zhu Xi’s anthology of essential Northern Song Neo-Confucian writings and discussions on basic Neo-Confucian themes, with his comments.) ———, trans. 1975. “Chinese and Western Interpretations of Jen (Humanity).” Journal of Chinese Philosophy 2: 107–29. ———, trans. 1976. “Chu Hsi.” In Sung Biographies, edited by Herbert Franke, (1) 282–90. Weisbaden: Franz Steiner. ———, trans. 1987. Chu Hsi: Life and Thought. Hong Kong: The Chinese University Press of Hong Kong. (Collection of insightful, informative studies of Zhu Xi’s life and thought by a leading twentieth century Chinese philosopher.) Cheng, Chung-ying. 1979. “Categories of Creativity in Whitehead and Neo-Confucianism.” Journal of Chinese Philosophy 6: 251–73. Ch’ien, Anne M. 1979. “Hu Chu-jen’s Self-Cultivation as Ritual and Reverence in Everyday Life.” Journal of Chinese Philosophy 6: 183–201. (Categorized and illustrates Zhu Xi’s notions of ritual and reverence in everyday practice.) De Bary, William T. 1981. Neo-Confucian Orthodoxy and the Learning of the Mind-and-Heart. New York: Columbia University Press. ———. 1991. Learning for One’s Self: Essays on the Individual in Neo-Confucian Thought. New York: Columbia University Press. (Rich, probing account of the inner focus and personal dimension of moral education in Confucianism.)

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Chapter 40

Zhu Xi on Self-Focused vs. Other-Focused Empathy Justin Tiwald

1 Introduction This chapter is about issues in ethics and moral psychology that have been little explored by contemporary philosophers, ones that concern the advantages and disadvantages of two different kinds of empathy. Roughly, first type is what is sometimes called “other-focused” empathy, in which one reconstructs the thoughts and feelings that someone else has or would have. The second type, “self-focused” empathy, is the sort of emotional attitude someone adopts when she imagines how she would think or feel were she in the other person’s place. Both are variants of empathy, for both have to do with having thoughts and feelings that are more apt, in the relevant senses, for someone else’s circumstances than one’s own. But they differ with respect to how much one makes substantial reference to oneself in order to elicit those thoughts and feelings. In cases of self-focused empathy, we imagine ourselves facing predicaments relevantly similar to those of the person with whom we sympathize, and we achieve our empathetic response by doing things like recalling equivalent experiences or noting similar interests and desires that may bear on the situation. A little reflection on this distinction shows that it can in fact have profound implications for care, compassion, love, human motivation, and the sense of oneness or unity with others that matters so much for ethics and the Portions of this essay are derived from two earlier papers, “Sympathy and Perspective-Taking in Confucian Ethics” (Tiwald 2011) and “Two Notions of Empathy and Oneness” (Tiwald 2018b), reproduced here in compliance with the permissions policies of the publishers of both works. I am indebted to Huang Yong and Ng Kai-chiu for their insightful comments on an earlier draft, and to the John Templeton Foundation, St. Louis University, and The Happiness and Well-Being Project for supporting the research that was the basis of this paper. J. Tiwald (*) Department of Philosophy, San Francisco State University, San Francisco, CA, USA e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2020 K.-c. Ng, Y. Huang (eds.), Dao Companion to ZHU Xi’s Philosophy, Dao Companions to Chinese Philosophy 13, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-29175-4_40

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­ ell-­rounded human life, but there is not yet a body of literature in contemporary w moral psychology or western philosophy that really wrestles with these implications. Some influential philosophers and psychologists have taken note of the distinction,1 but none have engaged the issues as thoroughly as did Zhu Xi and his students in twelfth century, largely in a series of commentaries and conversations that have yet to be translated into Western languages. The aim of this chapter is to explicate Zhu’s view about self- and other-focused empathy as he characterized them, reconstruct his arguments for his view, and then discuss some of the implications for ethics and moral psychology more generally. Zhu’s position in brief is that self-focused empathy is—for flawed moral agents like ourselves—a necessary and useful means by which we can better understand and care for others, but that ultimately it is the ladder we must kick away in favor of purely other-focused empathy. Only purely other-focused empathy is compatible with ren 仁 (humaneness, benevolence), which is in a crucial respect the most important and all-encompassing virtue. I begin with some discussion of self- and other-focused empathy in contemporary philosophy and psychology. Next, I turn to some historical background to explain how the distinction between self- and other-­ focused empathy became philosophically important in Song dynasty China. I then describe Zhu’s account of the two types of empathy and put forward what I take to be the two main arguments that Zhu either made or presupposed for seeing other-­ focused rather than self-focused empathy as the necessary constituent of humaneness. In unpacking these arguments I will probe both strengths and weaknesses and draw some more general conclusions about their philosophical significance for contemporary ethics and moral psychology.

2 Self-Focused vs. Other-Focused Empathy in Contemporary Moral Psychology For purposes of this chapter, “empathy” refers to that which consists in reconstructing the salient features of another’s psychological state, variously understood as something that one does in one’s imagination, by simulation, or by vicarious experience of the other’s thoughts and feelings—all overlapping permutations of what’s sometimes called “role-taking” or “perspective-taking.” But most of the discussion will be about what I will call empathetic concern, which consists of both the perspective-taking as well as care or concern for the person in question. We sometimes use empathy to understand or imagine what’s going on inside other people’s heads, so to speak, but without much concern about their welfare (consider an empathetic sadist) (Nussbaum 2001: 329–33). Other terms are often used to refer to the sort of phenomenon I am calling empathetic concern, including “sympathy,”

 Batson (2009), Hoffman (2000: 54–59), Coplan (2011: 9–15), and perhaps Darwall (2002: 63–65). 1

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“sympathetic understanding,” “compassion,” and “pity.” I have found that there is no consensus about how these terms are understood and distinguished in philosophy, psychology, or natural language. At present, the best we can do is to define by stipulation and try our best to pick natural language terms that get the point across.2 In most contemporary discussion of empathy and overlapping phenomena, there is a tendency to conflate two kinds of perspective-taking. One is the sort that I deploy when I envision or simulate how others feel under certain circumstances, the other is the sort that I engage when I imagine how I would feel if I were under the same or relevantly similar circumstances. If I imagine how Meihua would feel about being falsely accused of stealing from her employer and fired from her job, and in so doing I imagine myself being falsely accused and fired from my job, this is an instance of the second type, which the early pioneer in empathy research Ezra Stotland called “imagine-self” empathy, and which psychologists have more recently called “self-focused.” These are contrasted with “imagine-other” or “other-­ focused” empathy, respectively (Stotland 1969; Hoffman 2000: 54–59; Batson 2009: 7). The psychologists who have taken note of this distinction take themselves to be testing it when they instruct subjects to imagine themselves in another person’s place (Hoffman 2000: 55–56; Batson et al. 1997). One of those psychologists, Martin Hoffman, seems to count as “self-focused” instances of empathy in which one’s concern or distress is elicited in part by memories of personal experiences with similar circumstances (Hoffman 2000: 57). An inveterate logic-chopper might insist that this particular variant of self-focus— where one’s empathy is elicited in part by memories of similar experiences to oneself—is different from the sort of self-focus that psychologists are testing when they ask subjects just to imagine themselves in another person’s place. But as we will see in the next section, it is useful to generalize about a range of self-focused perspective-taking processes, for the sort of self-focused empathy that interests Zhu Xi highlights the process of making analogies or noticing likenesses to one’s own feelings, desires, and personal experiences. Let us say, then, that empathy is self-­ focused just in case thoughts about one’s self play a substantial and direct causal role in eliciting the empathetic response. Thoughts about one’s self play a substantial and direct causal role when, for example, my feeling of sorrow and frustration for Meihua is elicited by asking myself “how would I feel if I were falsely accused of stealing and fired for it?”, or by any recollection of being falsely accused of stealing and fired myself, or even by memories that are relevantly similar to being falsely accused of stealing and fired, as in a memory of being falsely accused of some other  One final clarification. We do not always need to reconstruct someone’s actual psychological state in order to have adequate empathetic concern for her. It is often more appropriate to imagine successfully how she would feel under certain circumstances, and sometimes the best way to empathize with someone is by imagining a somewhat better informed or idealized version of her. If Zhang goes about his days blissfully ignorant about the nasty and unfounded rumors circulating about him, there is not much empathetic concern in vicariously experiencing his blissful ignorance. An empathetic person feels sorrow and embarrassment for Zhang instead. For a brief review of contemporary philosophers on the use of empathy to construct counterfactual psychological states see Huang (2016: 226–227). 2

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wrong and of being fired without due cause or justification. Thoughts about one’s self do not play a substantial and direct causal role if, for example, I have some fleeting recollection of similar experiences but they do not enlarge or enhance my feelings of sorrow and frustration for Meihua, or if the thoughts seem to me incidental to what makes Meihua’s situation worthy of sorrow and frustration (e.g., perhaps I note in passing that Meihua’s employer shares my name). Adam Smith’s most memorable account of what he calls “sympathy” is a description  of self-­ focused empathy, one in which thoughts about one’s self clearly have a prominent and perhaps multi-faceted causal role: By the imagination we place ourselves in [the other’s] situation, we conceive ourselves enduring all the same torments, we enter as it were into his body, and become in some measure the same person with him, and thence form some idea of his sensations, and even feel something which, though weaker in degree, is not altogether unlike them. (Smith 2009: 13–14)

As the psychologist Daniel Batson has observed, many philosophers and psychologists tend to conflate these two types of empathy, although some empirical studies (the few that track the distinction between the two types) suggest that they have different consequences for human motivation and behavior (Batson 2009: 7). The principal difference seems to be that self-focused empathy elicits more “empathic distress”—we tend to respond more strongly, and experience more alarm and uneasiness about another person’s difficulties when we imagine ourselves in her position (Hoffman 2000: 55–56; Batson et al. 1997). However, this greater propensity to experience empathic distress also appears to make self-focused empathizers more liable to experience personal distress—that is, more likely to start worrying about themselves and their own interests, leading them to want to flee or remove reminders of the distressing situation rather than render aid (Hoffman 2000: 56; Coplan 2011: 12–13). As we will see, this is just a start on much larger and more consequential debate about the comparative advantages and disadvantages of the two types.

3 Zhu Xi’s Distinction in Historical Context To understand the philosophical significance of the distinction between self- and other-focused empathy for Zhu Xi, it is helpful to look at the context in which the distinction arose. Two of the founding figures of orthodox Neo-Confucianism (Daoxue 道學), the brothers Cheng Hao 程顥 (1032–1085) and Cheng Yi 程頤 (1033–1107), were interested in the connections between the virtue of humaneness or benevolence (ren) and a certain kind of empathetic state described in ancient texts as shu 恕. By their time, shu had long been associated with Confucius’ formulation of the Golden Rule: “Do not do to others as one would not want done to oneself” (Analects 15.24). On its face, this description might appear to suggest that shu is just a decision procedure or principle of action, but most Confucians, including the

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Cheng brothers, also understood it as the emotional process or attitude that positions us to better understand and simulate the feelings of others. On most readings, that emotional process requires that we imagine what it is like to be someone else, such that we can know and simulate feelings that are more apt for the other’s situation than our own. For this reason, many have translated shu as “sympathy” or “empathy.” It is clear from the recorded conversations with the Cheng brothers that they saw shu as the means by which we can acquire the virtue of humaneness. But it is also clear that they saw it as deficient in crucial respects, so that it must be either superseded or transformed before one can have humaneness proper. On their view, shu is the method by which humaneness can be implemented (ren zhi fang 仁之方), and comes close to true humaneness (jin hu ren 近乎仁), but does not enable us to achieve a state of oneness, which they characterized as forming one body with Heaven, Earth and the myriad things (Cheng and Cheng 1981: [2A] 15, [7] 97). Multiple generations of disciples were intrigued by the suggestion that shu fell short of true humaneness, but there was not a wide consensus as to how and in what respects it fell short. The Cheng brothers evidently thought that true humaneness comes easily, whereas shu is, for the agents that adopt it, more like an imperative (wu 勿, “do not!”) and this implies that shu takes effort or feels forced (Nivison 1996: 69–70). But this did not clearly or obviously explain what shu is, such that effort would be required, nor why it is experienced as an imperative, nor why shu would inhibit or stand in the way of becoming one with the larger world. Almost a century later, Zhu Xi arrived at an interpretation of shu which seemed a promising explanation of how shu-type empathy differs from the virtue of humaneness, one that he thought was not explicitly articulated by the Cheng brothers but nevertheless consistent with their view (Zhu 1986: [33] 850–51). Briefly put, Zhu sees the principal difference between shu and proper humaneness as turning on the issue of how much it depends on drawing inferences from one’s own self—one’s own feelings, dispositions and experiences—in order to instantiate the appropriate empathetic feelings for the other. When we use shu, he suggests, we need to compare others to ourselves in order to elicit the right feelings and motivations. In the case of proper humaneness, this is not required. Zhu sometimes elucidates this distinction by building on a famous passage from the Analects, which describes someone who, “desiring to establish himself, helps to establish others; desiring to succeed, helps others to succeed” (Analects 6.30). Here is how Zhu says that it works when using shu: One takes that which he finds nearby in himself and draws analogies to that of other people. . . . One desires to succeed, comes to fully understand that others also desire to succeed, and only then assists others in succeeding. (Zhu 1986: [27] 690, emphasis mine)

And here is how it works for the humane (ren) moral agent: Just by wanting to succeed, one helps others to succeed, and does so without applying any additional effort. (Zhu 1986: [33] 846)

Another bit of technical terminology that Zhu used to distinguish shu as a special sort of empathetic perspective-taking called attention to the role that “drawing anal-

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ogies” (tui 推) plays in simulating or constructing the thoughts and feelings of the other. Zhu underscores this point by sometimes referring to shu as “extending to the other by inferring (by anology) from the self” (tui ji ji ren 推己及人). Here I take Zhu (following predecessor Confucians) to mean “drawing analogies” in a double sense: first, one sees resemblances between the psychological states and dispositions of the two parties (e.g., that the other person’s desire for recognition or success is similar to one’s own); second one sees how for both oneself and for the other, the feelings under consideration stand in a similar relation to other contextual elements (e.g., the circumstances under which the desire is most acute or how it is counterbalanced with other habits and inclinations). With a coherent appreciation for the analogous parts, one can then (if necessary) imagine things from the other’s point of view. In contrast to “extending to others by inferring from the self,” Zhu suggests that the other form of empathy achieves the apt thoughts and feelings more automatically and directly. In this case, one does not need to look for analogies to one’s own feelings and experiences and so one does not need to imagine oneself in the other person’s situation. Zhu calls this method “extending to the other by means of one’s self” or “taking one’s self and extending it to the other” (yi ji ji ren 以己及人).3 For ease of reference, I will abbreviate “extending to the other by inferring from the self” (tui ji ji ren) as “inference extension” and “extending to the other by means of one’s self” (yi ji ji ren) as “direct extension.” Zhu sums up the distinction between the two types of empathy in these two recorded conversations: When mature it is ren, when growing [sheng 生] it is shu. Ren is spontaneous, shu takes effort. Ren is uncalculating and has nothing in view, shu is calculating and has an object in view.4 Someone asked about the distinction between [extending to others] “by means of the self” and [extending to others] “by inferring from the self.” Zhu Xi responded: “[extending to others] ‘by means of the self’ is spontaneous; [extending to others] ‘by inferring from the self” requires the application of effort. ‘Desiring to establish oneself, one establishes others; desiring to realize oneself, one helps others to realize themselves’—these are ‘extending to others by means of the self.’ ‘One takes that which he finds nearby in himself’5 and draws analogies to that of other people. One desires to establish oneself, comes to fully understand that others also desire to establish themselves, and only then assists others in establishing themselves. One desires to succeed, comes to fully understand that others also desire to succeed, and only then assists others in succeeding—these are ‘extending to others by inferring from the self.’ (Zhu 1986: [27] 690)

 Zhu Xi’s most explicit accounts of these two types of perspective-taking appear in fascicles (juan 卷) 27 and 33 of the Classified Sayings of Master Zhu (Zhuzi Yulei 朱子語類; Zhu 1986). His use of the terms “inferring from the self” (tui ji) and “by means of the self” (yi ji) is self-consciously adopted from the recorded lessons of the Cheng brothers. Zhu suspects that Cheng Hao was the brother who used the terms to distinguish between shu and ren (Zhu 1986: [27] 691). 4  Zhu (1986: [6] 116). My translation of the third sentence closely follows Chan Wing-tsit’s (Chan 1963: 633). 5  A reference to the “Great Appendix (Xici 繫辭)” commentary on the Classic of Changes (Yijing 易經), B.2. 3

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In both phrases, the term that is translated as “extending” (ji 及) is evocative of someone reaching out across a gap between herself and the other person. In the first case, perhaps, she reaches the other by drawing lines of comparison between the two of them, while in the second case her reaching is more direct and personal, so that she feels the other’s psychological states as if there were no gap at all. As Zhu sees it, both inference extension and direct extension require that we have some of the same basic emotional dispositions as the people whose perspectives we adopt (Zhu 1986: [16] 361–62). Most notably, we can achieve little empathy for the ordinary hardships of others if we lack desires for nourishment, companionship, or progeny. But presumably the collection of necessary overlapping desires is both more fine-grained and more sophisticated, including such things as desires for a stable livelihood, for the love and respect of one’s children, for kindness from strangers, and so on. Zhu assumes that we can care humanely or benevolently about a friend or student’s success in some career even if we do not have any personal interest in that particular line of work. So it seems a safe assumption that the set of shared desires can be characterized at a fairly general level of description, but not so general that they would have little motivational power. To empathize with a friend’s desire to excel as a tax collector, I would not necessarily be required to desire a career in tax collection for myself. It would be enough that I have desires for stable livelihood, a variety of interests in having a social impact or making a social contribution, aversions to various afflictions that a meaningful administrative career helps one to avoid (e.g., tedium, physical exhaustion), and so on. It is important not to overstate the degree to which direct extension bypasses the self. Just as for inference extension and shu, direct extension and ren also require that the psychological states that we reconstruct on behalf of others draw on similar feelings and desires that we have in ourselves. It is my disposition to feel hungry when deprived of food that enables me to empathize with those who starve, and my strong preference for a stable livelihood that allows me to imagine the relief of a friend upon securing a permanent position. Just as for shu, my own relevantly similar feelings and desires play a causal role in bringing about the appropriate response. What makes shu different is that thoughts and feelings about selfhood as such play a significant causal role in generating the empathetic response: we first compel ourselves to consider how we would feel or have previously felt when similarly situated, then compare this imagined or recollected scenario with the new one to determine whether they are analogous, and then (insofar as this act is supposed to motivate empathetic behavior) act accordingly. By contrast, in the case of direct extension, we do not force ourselves to compare the other’s situation and feelings with our own. And tellingly, we do not need to imagine ourselves in the other’s place in order to empathize, nor do we need to imagine ourselves in the other’s place in order to be moved to act on the other’s behalf. As noted earlier, Zhu thinks that cashing out the distinction between shu and ren in terms of self- and other-focus helps to explain some more widely accepted features of the two, most notably that shu requires effort and is experienced as a kind of imperative or obligation. It is worth saying a bit more about how he understands the imperative and the effort that is required to fulfill it. Zhu takes it that people who use inference extension are self-consciously trying to approximate

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humane (ren) behavior, and frequently also trying to strengthen and refine the character traits that make for durable virtue. An essential feature of humane behavior is that it is “fair” (ping 平) to the interests or desires of others. It is this commitment to fairness that we tend to see as a moral imperative, and Zhu implies that we apply conscious effort just at the moment when we determine ourselves to proceed in a fair way (Zhu 1986: [16] 361). On my somewhat speculative interpretation, Zhu thinks there is a psychologically necessary connection between self-consciously seeking fair and humane treatment of others and experiencing the act of perspective-­ taking as obligatory: if someone is concerned with “being a humane person” under that description, and she understands being fair as a requirement for being humane, she will necessarily regard fairness to others as an obligation. Arguably, Zhu posits a further necessary connection between regarding extension of self as an obligation and the need to exert conscious effort or force in order to take up another’s point of view. When people take a course of action that they represent to themselves as something they “must” or “should” do, it will require some exertion to undertake it. A final note about the sense of “fairness” in play here. Zhu does not exclusively have in mind fairness in resources or privileges (for instance, he is not exclusively concerned with equal or meritorious distribution of goods). Rather, he intends fairness in the sense of not living by double standards or excepting oneself from the expectations that one normally has of others. More specifically, being fair is a matter of treating a person relative to her position vis-à-vis you as you would want others to treat you relative to your position vis-à-vis them. You treat your subordinates as you want your superiors to treat you, your equals as you want your equals to treat you, your parents as you want your children to treat you, and so on.6 When Zhu discusses inference extension as a method of ensuring fairness, he often refers to it as the way or method of the “measuring tape and carpenter’s square,” likening a neat symmetry of desire and treatment to lines or areas measured to equal lengths (Zhu 1986: [16] 361, 363–364).

4 Zhu’s Criticisms of Self-Focused Empathy In this section, I will explicate two arguments for the view that inference extension is inferior to direct extension, in the sense that the former is less virtuous than the latter. The essential components of these two arguments are stated or implied by Zhu Xi. As we will see, both arguments characterize inference extension’s focus on the self as problematic, either because of its psychological effects on the feelings and behavior of the inference extender or because it is itself an indication of ethical shortcoming. The two criticisms of inference extension are thus criticisms of self-­ focused empathy as well.

 Zhu takes this “relational” version of inference extension from the Confucian classic, the Great Learning (Daxue 大學), part 10, paragraph 2. 6

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4.1 The Problem of Continence and Internal Conflict In Zhu’s analyses of inference extension, he often singles out the moral agent’s need to apply conscious effort as an indication of its inferiority to the (more spontaneous) process of direct extension. Much like Aristotle and other Western virtue ethicists, many Confucians consider it an indication of less-than-complete virtue if an agent finds he must overcome countervailing inclinations to act, even if he regularly prevails over those inclinations, as in the case of the merely continent or enkratic person (Aristotle 1998: III.1). For Zhu Xi, resistance to virtuous behavior typically reflects internal division or disharmony, as though some parts of the moral agent are not fully “on-board,” not sharing the enthusiasm for some virtuous end or practice. If one finds it difficult to help one’s own children, doing so may be good or useful but not particularly admirable. The same goes for someone who finds it difficult to resign from a company that turns out to be irredeemably corrupt. A person should be so “at ease” in her virtue that she does not find it a struggle to behave virtuously. When Zhu highlights the fact that inference extension is usually forced, he thus evokes a widespread worry about the inherent shortcomings of forced moral behavior in general. Confucians in Zhu Xi’s era often marked behavior and psychological states that fall short in this way by saying that they lack the quality of cheng 誠, variously translated as “sincerity,” “authenticity,” or “integrity.” Zhu says that when one reflects on one’s other-directed behavior and sees lack of cheng in oneself, that indicates that one must apply oneself to shu (self-focused empathy) (Zhu 1986: [60] 1436–1437). Let me pause briefly to highlight another thing that can make forcing virtue problematic: self-consciousness about being good. As we saw in Sect. 3 of this chapter, Zhu thinks that we find inference extension difficult because we typically see it as an imperative, and we see it as an imperative not because we want to do things that happen to be virtuous, but rather because we want virtue or humaneness as such. By contrast, the truly humane or benevolent person does not help her friend for the sake of being humane or virtuous; she does it for reasons more concerned with others than with her own goodness—e.g., for the sake of keeping her promise to the friend or out of concern for the friend’s feelings. To borrow Zhu’s imagery, a person who is truly “at ease in humaneness” (an ren 安仁) is so comfortable in the virtue that she is not even aware of her own humaneness, just as someone wearing supremely comfortable belts or shoes forgets that she is wearing them (Zhu 1986: [26] 643).7 I see three major worries about Zhu’s invocation of the problem of continence and internal conflict to show that other-focused empathy is superior to self-focused empathy. The first (and probably most obvious to people familiar with twentieth and

 Some might take issue with the suggestion that Zhu can sidestep the problem of egoism so easily, for it could be the case that Zhu (like many ethical thinkers who see virtue as central to both morality and personal well-being) builds his egoism into the doctrinal foundations of his philosophy. For a persuasive response to this objection, see Huang (2010). 7

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twenty-first century normative ethics) is that it is based on a controversial presupposition about the inherent moral shortcoming of mere continence. After all, there is at least one major normative ethical theory—namely, consequentialism— which says, roughly, that the sum total contribution to the good provided by a course of action is the only thing that matters about it intrinsically, and motivations do not matter in themselves. And even if one is not a thoroughgoing consequentialist who denies that any motives as such ever have intrinsic moral significance, one might still be circumspect about the particular motives to which Zhu is paying close attention. If a child is drowning, it might seem that it should be enough that the child is saved, whether I first need to imagine myself in the child’s place or not. This worry may appear to go right to the heart of Zhu Xi’s philosophical enterprise, and indeed to the heart of virtue ethical traditions the world over. I myself am sympathetic to the presupposition that better moral behavior is generally more wholehearted and not grudging or reluctant. Among other things, it better coheres with broader historical and demographic scope of people’s moral intuitions. It is also easier to reconcile a theory that accepts this presupposition with widespread objections to would-be moral demands that run deeply against the grain of human psychology. For example, most people object to the suggestion that we have duties to harvest the organs of healthy people to save a few more who are sick, or duties to execute the innocent for some marginal gain in social order. It may be that these sorts of putative moral demands are wrong because we could never embrace them wholeheartedly (Tiwald 2018a: 181). But Zhu’s argument does not depend on a full-­ blown defense of one of the basic premises of virtue ethics to get traction. Even if one thinks that it makes little intrinsic difference to the quality of people’s pro-­ social behavior if it is grudging or reflects internal division, most will readily admit that, in terms of instrumental goods or extrinsic outcomes, it is generally better to have people whose pro-social behavior is wholehearted. We have a tremendous number of other-directed moral obligations and life is a lot easier for those who do them automatically and lovingly. As nearly all of the well-known Confucian philosophers are fond of pointing out, wholeheartedness in one’s virtuous behavior is far more conducive to a virtuous person’s own happiness (Tiwald 2018a: 179–180). Furthermore, wholehearted empathy seems to be a necessary condition for a range of indispensable human relationships, from close friendships to romantic partnerships to the relationships between parents and children. A second concern about Zhu’s appeal to the problem of continence and internal division is that it might appear to single out one of the two forms of empathy unfairly. Why does self-focused empathy always take effort and why does other-­ focused empathy usually come more easily? There is not room to develop a full response to this concern, but briefly, I think we will find Zhu’s view plausible if we assume that most instances of moral failure or moral shortcoming arise because of deep-rooted, self-serving desires, desires that not only directly countervail our pro-­ social inclinations but operate in multifarious ways on decision-making processes, through cognitive biases or motivated reasoning. Scholars of Zhu Xi and Song Confucianism more generally will recognize this is a widely-shared assumption about moral failure—that at the bottom of each instance is some intransigent selfish

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inclination (siyi 私意) or selfish desire (siyu 私欲). My own understanding of moral failure is more nuanced, but I still think it basically correct that in most cases where I fall short in any given day, I fall short because some sort of self-serving disposition either stopped me from doing as I should or shrewdly found some way to sidestep or ignore reasons or considerations in favor of doing what I ought to have done. Or at least selfishness and self-serving motivated reasoning have  a great deal more explanatory power than, say, a lack of the basic aptitudes of moral judgment. Most daily instances of moral failure are things like exaggerating one’s own achievements or contributions, winning someone’s trust through speculative gossip about a mutual acquaintance, and simple failure to respond to people with problems that, from any reasonable third-person perspective, obviously warrant assistance and relief. There’s a sense in which we have all of the cognitive and emotional equipment we need to recognize that these things are wrong, but we do them anyway, and that is due to the influence of selfish inclinations and desires. Accordingly, when we fail to empathize, selfishness is more often than not the likely culprit as well. I take Zhu’s reasonable suggestion to be that the nearest and most readily available tool with which to overcome that selfishness is self-focused empathy. If self-serving desires and intentions predispose one to ignore or discount the distress of a colleague who has been ostracized by malicious gossip, or the suffering of an acquaintance in desperate need of medical care, it is quite possible that the best of the available remedies is to imagine oneself in their place. A final worry about Zhu’s invocation of continence to downgrade self-focused empathy comes from one of Zhu’s great historical critics, Dai Zhen 戴震 (1724–1777). Dai does not single out this particular worry about perspective-taking for criticism. Nevertheless, he does have a line about the importance of relying on conscious effort in moral agency more generally. Dai, who is generally grumpy about his Confucian predecessor’s love affair with spontaneity, works hard to separate notions of ease in moral deliberation from notions of ease in execution. The true mark of virtue, he thinks, is not the ability to resolve a moral quandary without concerted effort, but the ability to carry it out without concerted effort, once one has come to a full understanding of the various reasons and contextual considerations in its favor. If we want to be entirely “on board” with a morally challenging course of action, it is even to our benefit to force ourselves to consider whether and why we should take it. In the virtuous person, a more deliberate process of reflection— especially when it helps us see more vividly the underlying reasons or considerations in favor of a course of action—makes it possible to perform virtuous acts more wholeheartedly, and also to take greater joy in their execution.8 Applying this to empathetic perspective-taking, we can insist that a fully virtuous agent should find it easy to refrain from malicious gossip, even if it in fact requires some extended, self-focused reflection on the considerations that make malicious gossip wrong.

 See Dai (1996: 328–331, sec. 41). For an English translation see Ewell (1990: 392–398). I discuss this feature of Dai’s virtue theory in Tiwald (2010: 409–411). 8

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I find this to be a more powerful objection to Zhu’s downranking of self-focused empathy, although I also think that Zhu’s ethics offers ample resources with which to formulate a response. On my reading, Zhu—like many Song and Ming Confucians—tends to see protracted, effortful reflection as rife with opportunities for selfish inclinations and desires to develop one-sided, biased, or fabricated justifications for self-serving courses of action. He recognizes that some particularly complex, high-stakes cases (say, matters of complex public policy or trials for capital crimes) cannot be given due consideration without a certain amount of effort expended on thinking things through, but on the whole and for most purposes he thinks we are better served by finely-attuned spontaneous reactions, and he thinks this in part because it does not give cognitive biases and motivated reasoning a point of entry (Angle and Tiwald 2017: 169–70; Tiwald 2018a: 182–83). He also has a deep-seated belief in the fundamental, well-formed capacity for goodness in all human beings just by their nature. My own hunch is that Zhu is probably right about the tendency of selfish desires to assert themselves and influence (to bad effect) our deliberative processes, at least where the object of deliberation is some course of action that has obvious implications for our own interests. But I think he is probably wrong to suggest that we in some sense have sufficiently well-formed, morally good dispositions by nature. I am thus of two minds about problem of continence and internal conflict.

4.2 Incompatibility with the Experience of Oneness and Unity For Zhu Xi, ideal virtuous activity makes possible a certain kind of experience and way of seeing the world that he characterizes as “forming one body” (wei yi ti 為一 體) with others. At its most profound, we join together with “Heaven, Earth, and the myriad things” (Tiandi wanwu 天地萬物), but the experience permits of smaller-­ scale merging, such as between one’s self and a family member or close friend. On this way of understanding the self’s relationship to other people and things, the others are in some sense extensions of ourselves a vice versa, sharing a mutual identity in roughly the same way that hands and eyes that belong to the same body share a mutual identity. Some other Song Confucians (especially Cheng Hao and Yang Shi 楊時 [1053–1135]) tend to emphasize and wax ecstatic about this experience of oneness more than Zhu, but it undeniably plays a central role in Zhu’s ethics, as it does for most orthodox Neo-Confucians of the Song and Ming.9 In the Classified Conversations of Master Zhu, Zhu Xi makes it clear that he thinks only ren and other-focused empathy are compatible with the experience of unity or “oneness of body” with others. Much of the discussion focuses on his reading of an intriguing passage in the Mencius, which Zhu takes to suggest a clear  See Zhu (1986: [6] 117) and Chap. 19, “Zhu Xi and the Idea of One Body” in this volume. For an important and innovative work that brings to light the significance of this neglected thread of Song–Ming Confucian philosophy see Ivanhoe (2017).

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incompatibility between experiencing oneself as unified with the world and self-­ focused empathy or shu. Let us start by looking quickly at the passage from the Mencius itself. The myriad things are all complete within me. There is no greater joy than to discover sincerity (cheng) upon examining oneself. If one must seek out humaneness nothing will bring one closer than forcing oneself to exercise shu in one’s actions. (Mencius 7A.4)

On Zhu’s interpretation, this passage is a kind of locus classicus for reasons to prefer ren over shu: only through ren will one form a complete whole with the myriad things and experience the greatest of joys. Furthermore, only ren is wholehearted or sincere (cheng). If one finds that one lacks sincerity and thus cannot achieve ren directly, then the next best option is “forcing oneself to exercise shu in one’s actions” (qiang shu er xing 強恕而行), which is how we best acquire the traits and aptitudes that enable us to become ren (“seek out ren” [qiu ren 求仁]) when we currently lack them (Zhu 1983: Mengzi jizhu 7A.4). One can think of a variety of reasons why Zhu might believe self-focused empathy interferes with the experience of oneness or unity with others, but it is worth looking at the finer points of Zhu’s psychological account of shu to see wherein he thinks the real problem lies. As noted in Sect. 3, Neo-Confucians before Zhu thought that shu falls short of humaneness in part because it requires exertion. But the crucial issue for Zhu is not so much the fact that exertion is required, but the specific activity or function the exertion is applied to. Zhu says that the “point at which effort is applied” (zhuo li chu 著力處) is when one exercises one’s “ability to take that which one finds nearby in himself and draw analogies [to that of other people] (neng jin qu pi 能近取譬)” (Zhu 1986: [33] 850–851, cf. 1986: [33] 845). Put more succinctly, it is the work of projecting ourselves into others that wearies us. My modest proposal is that Zhu believes that once we have started thinking about our own concerns and needs, we will resist thinking about how others would feel when similarly situated. Having elicited concerns about oneself, it becomes a burden to care about others. The psychologist Martin Hoffman has studied a phenomenon that might seem to be a close approximation of the one that Zhu is concerned about. He describes a tendency in self-focused perspective-taking that he calls “egoistic drift.” When subjects start to relate the experiences and concerns of others to their own, eliciting feelings about themselves, the “image” of the other person “fades away, aborting or temporarily aborting the empathic process” (Hoffman 2000: 56). I think Zhu has something different in mind. He is not worried that the image of the other will fade away. Rather, he is worried that we will see the other’s concerns as making demands on us, so that we will start to see our interests as being at odds with theirs. When one starts to see one’s own interests as being at odds with another’s, one has already shut the door to oneness, and foreclosed the possibility of forming one body with the other. Zhu makes another observation about shu that bears this out. As we saw earlier, he says that when people apply shu, they act out of a sense of obligation or commitment. The obligation in question is the imperative to be “fair” (ping 平) to others,

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understood as giving each his or her due (Zhu 1983: Daxue 16, 1986: [16] 364–365). Here again the labor in shu appears to arise from the expectation that, having dwelled for a moment on one’s own needs and interests, one then must take an interest in someone else’s welfare. By appealing to the ideal of caring for others as different parts of a larger whole, Zhu offers up an argument for other-focused empathy that is rich in philosophical and religious significance. Some may have doubts about the value of this sort or care, or may find it too abstract, unrealistic, or implausible to make for a worthy aim in one’s moral psychology. On the other hand, so many of the world’s great philosophical and religious traditions put a tremendous premium on the experience of unity or oneness with the larger world, so that it seems like an aim whose value and significance we should not dismiss too quickly. Rather than try to settle some of the issues raised by Zhu’s appeal to the value of experiencing unity or oneness, then, I will instead simply note what I take to be some of the most likely objections and then highlight some of the resources Zhu provides for answering them. It is likely to strike some contemporary readers that there are dangers and excesses in caring about others as though they were (or are) extensions of oneself. We might worry that aspiring to this sort of care inhibits awareness of a distinct sense of self. We might be concerned that people who regard others in this way will become enmeshed in their lives, investing too much thought and heartache in the affairs of someone else. It is easy to imagine a variety of misjudgments, confusions, or outright delusions that might arise if someone regularly took herself to be the people with whom she empathizes, and one wonders whether it could rightly be called empathy in such cases. These are serious and legitimate concerns, but it would be unfair to Zhu to just assume that he has the sort of vague and metaphysically confused notion of oneness or unity that they seem to suggest. Zhu essentially takes the experience of “forming one body” to be a distilled version of the sort of other-directed care that we learn though all manner of ordinary human relationships. He emphatically rejects accounts of “forming one body” with others that are so vague as to allow for perverse or psychologically unrealistic forms of other-directed care. In his widely-read “Treatise on Humaneness” (Renshuo 仁說), he frequently juxtaposes his own account of ren with that of the lineage of Song dynasty Confucians that he associates with Yang Shi. One of the major differences between his view and theirs is that his provides content and texture to the notion of forming a whole with others where Yang and his disciples are only able to offer vague guidelines and mysticism. Yang thinks that oneness is a fact about us that we discover in ourselves, in our nature at its most tranquil state or phase, but not something we can articulate. Zhu criticizes this account for providing too little guidance and leading to confusion and recklessness, apparently because it says too little about the particular types of things we should realize and do in order to become one (Zhu 1996: 3543–3544; cf. Chan 1963: 595–596). By contrast, Zhu’s account of “forming one body” says that we become one with others by caring about and contributing to others’ life and growth (sheng 生), and uses natural pro-social behaviors as starting points or guidelines as to how much we should care.

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Zhu also argues somewhat elliptically that the mystical account of oneness leads people to another error, which is “to regard other things as oneself” (ren wu wei ji 認物爲己) (Zhu 1996: 3544; cf. Chan 1963: 596). It is not clear why this counts against the mystical view and not Zhu’s own. As one of Zhu’s major twentieth-­ century critics has pointed out, Zhu himself also allows that we can form one body with others, so it is difficult to see how he avoids making the same mistake (Mou 1969: 249–252). My hunch is that Zhu is paying close attention to different ways and senses in which we could be one with other things, some of them apt and others not. I can share a mutual identity with, say, a monkey or tree, in roughly the same way that my eye and my hand share a mutual identity with one another—they are not numerically identical nor qualitatively identical, but they belong to the same body  or larger whole. Perhaps Zhu’s point is that his account provides enough content to help us see how we can be “one” in the sense of having a mutual identity but “not one” in the sense of being numerically and qualitatively distinct, whereas the mystical view tends to blur the latter distinctions.10 As the contemporary psychologist Martin Hoffman has argued, there is ample evidence that empathy develops in young children alongside a robust sense of oneself as a distinct person. The lives of young children are so full of vivid reminders of how they differ from others that a distinct sense of self is virtually unavoidable and found in every culture (Hoffman 2000: 275–278). We should not, therefore, expect Zhu to endorse a vision for other-focused empathy in which people become deeply confused about their numerical individuality, nor one in which they lose sight of the fact that they are people of different needs, character, and stations in life. 11,12

 Zhu’s Neo-Confucian predecessor Hu Hong 胡宏 (1105–1161) raises doubts about the stronger, more mystical reading of “being one” in a passage that Zhu discusses in his “Misgivings about Master Hu’s Understanding of Words (Huzi zhiyan yiyi 胡子知言疑義).” See Zhu (2002: 3560–3561). 11  Huang Yong has made the interesting point that self-focused empathy might lend itself to paternalistic ways of thinking, causing empathizers to want for others things which others may not want for themselves. He offers a creative solution to the problem of empathetic paternalism in the context of Wang Yangming’s thought (Huang 2016: 227–230). On my reading of Zhu, he is not particularly concerned about empathetic paternalism. He thinks that both shu and ren, when used rightly, draw on feelings and desires that are basic, potentially widely shared, and correct. No doubt there will be variations in proclivity and preference—e.g., some people may like the taste of wine more than others—but we can empathize with people whose proclivities and preferences differ from ours by drawing on certain basic ones that we should have in common—e.g., the strong, natural preference for liquids that are not repugnant in flavor or texture. In point of fact, I think, empathetic paternalism is a thornier problem than Zhu assumes. 12  In an earlier paper I discuss two additional arguments by Zhu against inference extension, the “defective desires problem” and the “deficiency of care problem” (Tiwald 2011: 667–670). I pass over the first problem because it is not clearly linked with self-focus and pass over the second because it overlaps substantially with the problem of continence and internal conflict. 10

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5 Conclusion In this chapter, we have examined an area of inquiry that is well-developed in the ethics of Zhu Xi but relatively under-developed in contemporary philosophy and moral psychology, one that has implications for moral motivation, virtue, the psychological foundations of human relationships, and conceptions of self. This is the role of thoughts and feelings about the self in empathizing with others. As we have seen, both Zhu and a small number of contemporary philosophers and psychologists attend to an important distinction between the sort of empathy that allows us to imagine, reconstruct, or simulate the thoughts and feelings of others directly and the sort in which thoughts and feelings about the self play a significant and direct causal role. A little reflection and debate reveal that the distinction between purely other-focused and more self-focused variants of empathy is a weighty and consequential one, and I hope that Zhu’s considerable reflection and analysis helps to lay bare its significance. Contemporary psychologists have attended primarily to the effects that self-focused empathy has on empathic distress and egoism. Zhu raises broader and more explicitly philosophical questions about the advantages and disadvantages of self- and other-focused empathy. In the final analysis, Zhu’s positions on this matter are nuanced. He thinks both self-focused and other-focused empathy are good, although the latter is a constituent of full and complete virtue while the former is something like a necessary expedient, inferior to other-focused empathy but useful when we lack the motivation and capacity to care for and empathize with others outright. Zhu calls attention to two major shortcomings of self-focused empathy. First, he proposes that it indicates internal conflict about contributing to the lives of others, a less-than-wholehearted investment in doing what should, for the truly benevolent or humane person, come more naturally and effortlessly. Second, he suggests that self-focused empathy interferes with the ideal experience of oneness or unity with others, so that its practitioners see themselves and their interests as being at odds or in competition with others. This, then, threatens to inhibit not just one of the profound and important sorts of human experience but also one of the best of human bonds, the feeling of connection and mutual identity with others. And we have seen that Zhu’s reflection and analysis in this area anticipates several major objections to his line of argument as well. The claims and arguments that I have reconstructed here are hardly the last word in the matter, but they should be enough to get a glimpse of the richness and moral significance of the debate about self- and other-focus in empathy, a debate which would do well to start with Zhu Xi.

References Angle, Stephen C., and Justin Tiwald. 2017. Neo-Confucianism: A Philosophical Introduction. Oxford: Polity Press. Aristotle. 1998. Nicomachean Ethics. Translated by David Ross. Oxford: Oxford University Press.

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Batson, C. Daniel. 2009. “These Things Called Empathy: Eight Related but Distinct Phenomena.” In Jean Decety and William Ickes, eds., The Social Neuroscience of Empathy (3–16). Cambridge: MIT Press. Batson, C. Daniel, Shannon Early, and Giovanni Salvarani. 1997. “Perspective Taking: Imagining How Another Feels Versus Imaging How You Would Feel.” Personality and Social Psychology Bulletin, 23 (7): 751–758. (A more recent study of the differences in psychological effect of self-focused and other-focused empathy.) Chan, Wing-tsit. 1963. A Sourcebook in Chinese Philosophy. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Cheng, Hao 程顥, and Cheng Yi 程頤. 1981. “The Extant Works of the Chengs of Henan 河南程 氏遺書.” In The Collected Works of the Cheng Brothers 二程集, vol. 1 (1-349). Beijing 北京: Zhonghua shuju 中華書局. Coplan, Amy. 2011. “Understanding Empathy: Its Features and Effects.” In Amy Coplan and Peter Goldie, eds., Empathy: Philosophical and Psychological Perspectives (3–18). Oxford: Oxford University Press. Dai, Zhen 戴震. 1996. “Evidential Study of the Meaning of Terms of the Mencius 孟子字義疏 證.” In the Appendix to Hu Shi’s 胡適 The Philosophy of Dai Zhen 戴東原的哲學 (237–338). Taipei 臺北: Taiwan shangwu yinshuguan 臺灣商務印書館. Darwall, Stephen. 2002. Welfare and Rational Care. Princeton.: Princeton University Press. Ewell, John W. 1990. “Reinventing the Way: Dai Zhen’s Evidential Commentary on the Meanings of Terms in Mencius (1777).” Ph.D. Diss., University of California Berkeley. Hoffman, Martin L. 2000. Empathy and Moral Development: Implications for Caring and Justice. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. (Hoffman is a prominent expert on the psychology of empathy. This book touches upon the differences between self-focused and other-focused empathy.) Huang, Yong. 2010. “The Self-Centeredness Objection to Virtue Ethics: Zhu Xi’s Neo-Confucian Response.” American Catholic Philosophical Quarterly 84 (4): 651–692. ———. 2016. “Empathy with Devils.” In Chienkuo Mi, Michael Slote, and Ernest Sosa, eds., Moral and Intellectual Virtues in Western and Chinese Philosophy: The Turn toward Virtue (214–234). New York.: Routledge. Ivanhoe, Philip J. 2017. Oneness: East Asian Conceptions of Virtue, Happiness, and How We Are All Connected. New York.: Oxford University Press. Mou, Zongsan 牟宗三. 1969. Heartmind and Nature 心體與性體, vol. 3. Taipei 臺北: Zhengzhong shuju 正中書局. Nivison, David S. 1996. The Ways of Confucianism: Investigations in Chinese Philosophy. Edited by Bryan W. Van Norden. Chicago: Open Court. Nussbaum, Martha C. 2001. Upheavals of Thought. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Smith, Adam. 2009. The Theory of Moral Sentiments. Edited by Ryan Patrick Hanley. New York: Penguin Classics. Stotland, Ezra. 1969. “Exploratory Investigations in Empathy.” In Leonard Berkowitz, ed., Advances in Experimental Social Psychology, vol. 4 (271–313). New York: Academic Press. (An important early empirical study of empathy that calls attention to differences between the effects of self-focused and other-focused variants.) Tiwald, Justin. 2010. “Dai Zhen on Human Nature and Moral Cultivation.” In John Makeham, ed., Dao Companion to Neo-Confucian Philosophy (399–422). Dordrecht: Springer. ———. 2011. “Sympathy and Perspective-Taking in Confucian Ethics.” Philosophy Compass 6 (10): 663–674. (A more comprehensive historical study of empathy in the Confucian tradition, with a special emphasis on the debate about direct extension and inference extension.) ———. 2018a. “Confucianism and Neo-Confucianism.” In Nancy E.  Snow, ed., The Oxford Handbook of Virtue (171–189). New York: Oxford University Press. ———. 2018b. “Two Notions of Empathy and Oneness.” In Philip J. Ivanhoe, Owen J. Flanagan, Victoria S. Harrison, Hagop Sarkissian, and Eric Schwitzgebel, eds., The Oneness Hypothesis: Beyond the Boundary of Self (371–387). New York: Columbia University Press. (An examina-

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tion of how Zhu Xi and Dai Zhen link self- and other-focused empathy to the experience of “being one” or “forming one body” with others.) Zhu, Xi 朱熹. 1983. Collected Commentaries on the Four Books 四書章句集注. Beijing 北京: Zhonghua shuju 中華書局. ———. 1986. The Classified Sayings of Master Zhu 朱子語類. Edited by Li Jingde 黎靖德. Beijing 北京: Zhonghua shuju 中華書局. (The primary source for Zhu’s views on the differences between inference extension and direct extension, which he clarified in response to student queries. See especially juan 27 and juan 33.) ———. 1996. “Treatise on Humaneness 仁說.” In Guo Qi 郭齊 and Yin Bo 尹波, eds., The Collected Works of Zhu Xi 朱熹集, juan 67 (3542–3544). Chengdu 成都: Sichuan jiaoyu chubanshe 四川教育出版社. ———. 2002. “Misgivings about Master Hu’s Understanding of Words 胡子知言疑義.” In Master Zhu’s Complete Works 朱子全書, vol. 24, juan 73 (3555–3564). Shanghai 上海: Shanghai guji chubanshe 上海古籍出版社, and Hefei 合肥: Anhui jiaoyu chubanshe 安徽教育出版社. Justin Tiwald is a professor of philosophy at San Francisco State University. His research focuses on classical Confucian, Neo-Confucian, and Daoist views on ethics, politics, and well-being. Recent publications include Neo-Confucianism: A Philosophical Introduction (with Stephen C. Angle, 2017) and Readings in Later Chinese Philosophy (with Bryan W. Van Norden, 2014). With Eric L. Hutton, he is co-editor of the translation series Oxford Chinese Thought.  

Index

A Absolute action (actus purus), 720 Abstractions, 11, 209, 777, 792-795, 799, 802, 803, 903, 933, 956 Academies, 42, 176, 179, 196, 476, 494, 524, 535, 740 Activity and non-activity, 340, 341 Adler, Joseph, 2, 62, 85, 89, 92, 152, 153, 154, 186, 187, 245, 247, 249, 250, 253, 257, 333, 335, 341, 526, 797 Advice model, 896, 902, 915, 916–918 Agapē, 721, 727 ai 愛 (the emotion of love), 137, 701, 721 Alchemical circle, 660, 661, 662, 666, 668 Alchemy, 10, 145, 544, 545, 547, 548, 559, 560, 561, 569, 570, 615, 649–676, 852, 850 See also Inner-meditative alchemy; external-chemical alchemy Alfano, Mark, 895, 898, 903, 904, 915 Ambiguous/ambiguity, 113, 206, 256, 276, 367, 456, 504, 512, 529, 530, 556, 694, 720, 726, 821 Ames, R.T., 790, 933, 934, 943, 950, 956 Analects 論語 (Lunyu) [Except Chapter 4, “Zhu Xi’s Four Books: The Locus Classicus of a New Confucian Philosophy” and Chapter 22, “Zhu Xi’s Political Philosophy in Context: With Special Focus on His Commentaries of the Four Books”], 25, 26, 30, 34, 40, 61, 62, 64, 91, 95, 96, 101, 110–114, 116, 117, 124, 133, 146, 156, 180, 181, 252, 253, 255, 289, 297, 374, 392, 400, 406, 408, 414–418, 421, 427, 428, 436, 446–448, 450–452, 459, 479, 487, 526, 528–530, 534, 537, 546, 552, 645,

687–688, 696, 697, 740, 763, 767–770, 775, 777, 778, 780–782, 790, 832, 836, 838, 839, 840–843, 846–848, 850, 852, 853, 868, 880, 905, 908, 915, 916, 917, 949, 953, 966, 967 Anathema, 134, 717 Angle, Stephen, 16, 112, 113, 244, 361-385, 455, 457, 459, 524, 849, 896, 908, 909, 931, 974 An Hyang 安珦, 741 Annas, Julia, 904 Anscombe, G.E.M., 814, 930 Antagonism, 692, 716 Anthropocentrism, 594–596, 599, 603 Anthropomorphism, 726 A posteriori, 865 Appropriateness, 163, 182, 456, 484, 600, 602, 866, 933, 934, 935, 936, 939, 943, 944, 949, 950–954, 955, 956 A priori, 200, 213, 224, 253, 367, 863, 864, 865, 921, 940 Aquinas, Thomas, 2, 109, 711, 717, 719, 720, 785, 786, 787, 796, 797, 801, 803 Aristotelianism, 785, 789, 792, 796, 803 A theory of justice, 833 Austen, Jane, 843 Autonomy, 121, 223, 233, 234, 355, 598, 862, 869, 877, 938 Awe, 64, 112, 129, 534, 756, 947, 948, 949, 950 B Baba, Eiho, 243, 246, 763–783 ba dao霸道 (way of the hegemons), 181, 473–474 Badhwar, Neera K., 904, 907

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982 Bailudong Shuyuan 白鹿洞書院 (White Deer Grotto Academy, White Deer Hollow Academy), 42, 534, 535, 764 bangguo li 邦國禮 (rituals for the state), 104 Bao Xian 包咸, 501, 506 Baron, Robert, 898, 902 ba tiaomu 八條目 (eight steps, eight clauses, eightfold itinerary program), 78, 79, 83, 200, 202, 289, 290, 448 Batson, Daniel, 427, 432, 433, 898, 914, 964, 965, 966 Beck, Lewis White, 935, 936, 937, 938, 939, 940, 941, 944, 946, 947, 951, 952 Beixi Ziyi 北溪字義 (Northern Creek Neo-Confucian Terms Explained), 197 ben ran zhi xing 本然之性 (original nature, human nature in the original state), 81, 138, 266, 280, 307, 352, 353, 354, 355, 356, 667, 752, 766, 911, 921 See also xing 性 ben se hua 本色化 (indigenization), 708 Bentham, Jeremy, 182 ben ti 本體 (original substance), 199, 204, 272, 275, 278, 447, 455, 458 ben xin 本心(original heart-mind), 34, 60, 185, 450, 607 See also xin 心 ben yi 本義 (original meaning), 28, 47, 66, 92, 93, 146, 187, 211, 748 Bergson, Henri, 255, 700, 702 Berling, Judith, 649, 658, 660, 669 Berthrong, John, 2, 116, 118, 120, 121, 123, 243, 246, 247, 253, 256, 257, 258, 580, 909, 933 Biblicism, 713 Bickle, John, 301 bi 比 (comparison), 1, 10, 96, 130, 157, 249, 269, 299, 302, 358, 361, 375, 383, 392, 409, 413, 419, 457, 480, 530, 577, 712, 720, 724, 820, 848, 850, 891, 939, 969 bildung, 49 Blood, 55, 115, 375, 395, 399, 424, 533, 814 Bloom, Alfred, 789 Bodde, D., 670, 673, 704 Bol, Peter, 178, 245, 377, 476, 500, 503, 504, 562, 741 Brinkmanship, 902 Bruce, Joseph Percy, 244, 699–702, 721, 724, 726, 727, 728 Buddhism [Except Chapter 28, “Zhu Xi and Buddhism”], 3, 10, 15, 18, 19, 20, 32, 41, 62, 63, 72, 74, 102, 139, 145, 172,

Index 185, 196, 207, 212, 251, 268, 272, 302, 305, 331, 342, 363, 364, 366, 371, 372, 380, 458, 501, 502, 503, 606, 627, 650, 652, 653, 669, 676, 691, 699, 708, 709, 724, 741, 742, 746, 837, 880, 892, 932 bu ren 不忍, 390, 391, 393–396, 401, 408, 419, 422, 427, 429, 431, 433 bu xiang li 不相離 (mutual inseparability), 276–279 bu xiang za 不相雜 (non-interfusability), 276–279 C Cai Chen 蔡沈, 38, 549, 551, 556 Cai Fanglu 蔡方鹿, 170 Cai Jitong 蔡季通, see Cai Yuanding 蔡元定 Cai Renhou 蔡仁厚, 221, 457 Cai Yuan 蔡淵, 36, 549, 556, 557 Cai Yuanding 蔡元定, 26, 36, 93, 340, 549, 550, 552, 553, 557, 658, 667, 671, 674 Cannon, Lance Kirkpatrick, 899 Canon-in-translation, 687, 695 Cao Duan 曹端, 22, 205, 206, 215 Cardinal virtues, 8, 52, 254, 329–342, 822, 843, 846, 908, 943 Carlyle, Thomas, 831, 832, 834, 845, 850 Catholicism, 109, 786, 787, 788, 794 ce yin 惻隱 (commiseration, compassion, unbearable feeling), 391, 393, 401, 408, 409, 419, 422, 427, 429, 431, 433, 601 Chaffee, John W., 502 Chan Buddhism, 188, 205, 207, 269, 331, 364, 633-636, 646 See also zen 禪 Chang, Carsun, 837 chang sheng長生 (indefinite extension of life—immortality), 670, 672, 673 Chang Tsai 張載, see Zhang Zai 張載 chang zhi 常知 (ordinary rational understanding of morality), 226, 227, 228, 229, 231, 233, 235, 237, 318 Chan Wing-tsit 陳榮捷, 1, 2, 28, 93, 169, 203, 210, 221, 222, 345, 457, 526, 537, 649, 675, 684, 692, 694, 700, 706, 707, 711, 837, 861, 862, 865, 866, 968 Charismatic reading (Charismatic reader), 51, 60 charitas, 721 Chen Baisha 陳白沙, see Chen Xianzhang 陳獻章 Chen Chun 陳淳, 197, 336, 383, 642

Index Chen Duan 陳摶, 20, 186, 658 cheng 誠 (realness, genuineness, authenticity, sincerity, self-actualization, integrity), 25, 37, 78, 79, 85, 116, 138, 201, 209, 210, 279, 297, 307, 308, 309, 341, 384, 452, 460, 473, 475, 531, 533, 563, 584, 625, 626, 663, 667, 668, 676, 743, 800, 836, 932, 971, 975 See also chengyi 誠意; yicheng 意誠 Cheng brothers, 16–20, 23–26, 28, 30, 31, 39, 40, 44, 61–63, 71, 76, 79–81, 83, 92, 96, 146–148, 150, 153, 156, 158, 160, 161, 163, 169, 171, 175, 179, 184, 186, 197, 202, 207, 208, 254–257, 268, 269, 279, 318, 331, 369, 405-409, 413, 415, 420, 466, 467, 525, 527, 530, 573, 575, 726, 742, 768, 769, 772, 838, 883, 913, 941, 967, 968 Cheng Chung-ying 成中英, 253, 254, 705, 706 Cheng Dennis Chi-hsiung, 132 Cheng Hao 程顥 [Except Chapter 8, “Zhu Xi and the Five Masters of Northern Song”], 7, 26, 31, 32, 71, 74, 84, 135, 171–173, 176, 184, 207, 254, 267, 272, 284, 297, 337, 352–354, 368–390, 396, 403, 405–409, 414, 415, 417, 419, 420, 427, 466, 525, 573, 602, 698, 709, 796, 838, 840, 864, 922, 932, 952, 966, 968, 974 Cheng Minzheng 程敏政, 749 Chengshi Jingshuo 程氏經說 (The Cheng Brothers’ Explication Of The Classics), 341, 406, 415 Chen Gujia 陳谷嘉, 170 Cheng Yi 程頤 [Except Chapter 8, “Zhu Xi and the Five Masters of Northern Song”], 5–7, 28, 29, 31, 32, 63, 64, 71, 74, 81, 82, 85, 89, 90, 92, 93, 94, 100, 130, 135, 171–173, 176, 184, 200, 202, 206, 208, 222, 226–229, 233, 235, 248, 254, 255, 266, 271, 276, 279, 281, 282, 284, 300, 303, 317–319, 330, 333, 336–338, 341, 342, 346, 368–370, 376, 377, 383, 390, 403, 405–409, 411, 415, 416, 419, 420, 451, 454, 457, 460, 466, 467, 476, 480, 509, 518, 525, 530, 531, 536, 565, 573, 578, 587, 589, 598, 640, 644, 645, 676, 698, 699, 709, 719, 769, 770, 772, 796, 823, 838, 840, 847, 852, 859–861, 863, 867–869, 908, 922, 955, 966 Cheng Yi 誠意 (making thoughts sincere, to be sincere in thoughts/intentions, purifying

983 one’s own motivation), 44, 200–202, 228, 290, 298, 933 See also Cheng 誠 Cheng Zhongying, see cheng Chung-ying 成中英 Cheng-zhu lixue 程朱理學 (Cheng-Zhu School of the learning of principle), 197, 208 Cheng-Zhu Model 程朱型態, 235, 236, 238 Chen Jian 陳建, 204, 383, 691 Chen Lai 陳來, 2, 19, 23, 26–28, 30, 33, 34, 153, 158, 175, 230, 294, 323, 331, 332, 382, 383, 576 Chen Liang 陳亮, 7, 35, 169–189, 478, 497 Chen Que陳確, 212 Ch’en t’uan, see Chen Duan Chen Xianzhang 陳獻章, 198, 199, 205 Chen Xiyi 陳希夷, see Chen Duan Chijing 持敬 (stabilizing the mind in the state of calmness, attentiveness and reasonableness), 223, 224, 236, 237, 770 See also jing 敬 Chinese Christian scholars, 682, 706 Ching, Julia 秦家懿, 131–133, 138, 185, 335, 526, 627, 635, 649, 653, 654, 656, 658, 678, 675, 676, 707, 723–726, 728, 729, 787, 932 Chinul 知訥, 741, 746 Ch’oe Ch’iwŏn 崔致遠, 740 Ch’oe Ch’ung 崔沖, 741 Ch’oe Myŏng-gil 崔鳴吉, 754 Ch’oe Sŏk-chŏng 崔錫鼎, 754 Chŏng Che-du 鄭齊斗, 754 Chong Kim-chong, 117 Chŏng To-jŏn 鄭道傳, 742, 743, 747 Chŏng Yag-yong 丁若鏞, 753, 756 Chosŏn Dynasty (朝鮮), 739, 740, 741, 747, 749, 753, 754, 756 Christianity, 10, 577, 578, 627, 681–729, 787, 788, 839 Christianizing (jiduhua, transformed by christ), 708 Chuhsi-ism, 699 Chujasŏ Choryo 朱子書節要 (Essentials Of Master Zhu’s Correspondence), 747 Chunqiu 春秋 (spring and autumn annals), 7, 35, 72, 73, 75, 89, 90, 97, 99–102, 105, 132, 171, 391, 401, 403, 446, 499, 838 Chunqiu Fanlu 春秋繁露 (Luxuriant Dew of the Spring and Autumn Annals), 132, 403 Chunqiu Hushi Zhuan 春秋胡氏傳 (Commentary of Master Hu to the Spring and Autumn Annals), 90

984 chun ru 純儒 (pure Confucian), 131, 172, 179, 186, 187 chuti ceyin 怵惕惻隱 (Compassion, unbearable feeling, commiseration), 5, 29, 117, 118, 160, 173, 184, 214, 236, 295, 303, 325, 334, 338, 362, 366, 367, 375, 377, 378, 390, 428, 430, 431, 432, 470, 472, 473, 483, 491, 492, 508, 563, 601, 602, 608, 623, 640, 641, 749, 750, 751, 823, 824, 853, 865, 866, 867, 877, 882, 890, 891, 897, 904, 906, 907, 908, 910, 919, 920, 921, 922, 963, 965 ciran 辭讓 (deference and compliance), 173, 623, 823, 908, 920, 921 Classical Confucianism, 10, 330, 634, 642, 644, 908, 921 Cognition, 11, 120, 223, 233, 234, 253, 254, 258, 259, 260, 272, 275, 277, 293, 317, 379, 799–802 Cognitive mind, 223 Communitarianism, 11, 467, 831–854 Comparative civilizational analysis, 708 Confucius 孔子 (Kongzi), 1, 7, 21, 25, 26, 28, 31, 32, 38, 64, 71, 74, 75–77, 79, 80–82, 86, 95, 97, 99, 100, 101, 102, 105, 109, 110–118, 124, 125, 129, 130, 134, 147, 158, 180–182, 184, 186, 187, 189, 195, 205, 212, 222, 224, 226, 253, 255, 256, 336, 374, 401, 412, 415, 416, 420, 428, 446, 447, 450, 451, 475, 476, 487, 493, 504, 505, 507, 513–515, 517, 518, 525, 529, 530, 533–535, 537, 538, 577, 588, 601, 605, 671, 673, 688, 715, 716, 740, 741, 763, 768, 775, 776, 780, 781, 790, 822, 832, 836–842, 844, 846, 847, 848, 850, 852, 853, 866, 875, 880, 881, 882, 884, 885, 887, 892, 917, 931, 943, 949, 953, 956, 966 Consequentialism, 932, 972 Conservative, 699, 810, 900 Contemporary Neo-Confucian, 884, 887 Copp, David, 818, 820 Cosmic movement, 332, 340, 341, 530, 579 Cosmogony, 656, 660–662, 664, 668, 675 Cosmology, 85, 131, 134, 153, 207, 330, 341, 475, 526, 569, 570, 578, 581, 585, 588, 615, 649, 664, 668, 673, 720, 837, 850, 851, 865, 933 Couvreur, Séraphin 顧賽芬, 105, 683, 685, 688, 695, 696, 697, 698, 715 Creator, 111, 577, 726, 797, 867

Index Critics, 66, 74, 134, 189, 207, 243, 503, 687, 725, 818, 973, 977 Cross-situational consistency, 900, 911 Cua, Antonio S., 243 Cult of immortality, 653 Cultural angst, 706 Cursus litteraturae sinicae: neo-missionariis accommodatus, 686 Cyclic evolution, 9, 576, 580–582, 586, 587, 590 D da ben 大本 (great origin), 447, 457, 721 Dadai Liji 大戴禮記 (Notes on the Rites by the Elder Dai), 104 Daemonic, 957 Dahui Zonggao 大慧宗杲, 269, 633, 634 Dai Zhen戴震, 8, 195, 212–216, 375, 376, 434, 588, 973 da jue大覺 (fully awakening), 301, 308, 309 See also jue覺 Dao 道 (the way), 49, 52, 147, 183, 210, 247, 256, 477, 513, 514, 517, 545, 573, 575, 597, 651, 687, 861, 906 Daode Jing 道德經, 373, 650, 651 Daoism (Taoism) 道家, 10, 15, 17–21, 32, 62, 63, 72, 74, 102, 139, 145, 196, 207, 212, 331, 627, 649–676, 710, 724, 837, 880, 892 Daoist Canon or Daozang 道藏, 660, 663, 664, 665, 666, 668, 674 dao jiao 道教 (Daoism), 10, 15, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 32, 62, 63, 72, 74, 104, 139, 145, 196, 207, 212, 331, 627, 649–676, 710, 724, 837 dao li 道理 (reason), 48, 50, 92, 113, 119, 123, 150, 227, 244, 338, 342, 357, 417, 597, 606, 623, 624, 629, 638, 689, 690, 693, 721 874, 877, 878, 904, 935, 936, 937, 938, 939, 942, 945, 948, 951, 954, 955 Daonan school 道南學派, 161 Dao Qian 道謙, 19, 633 dao shi 道士 (Daoist priests), 546, 650, 651, 655, 671 Daotong道統 (genealogy of the Way, transmission of the Way), 61–65, 71, 72, 74, 77, 82, 120, 131, 138, 139, 140, 147, 148, 150, 154–160, 166, 179, 222 dao wen xue 道問學 (inquiry and study), 34, 185, 457 dao xin 道心 (the heart-mind of dao, dao-heart/mind, the mind which is

Index inseparable from dao/li, the heart-mind of the way, moral mind way mind), 34, 63, 77, 185, 211, 279, 296, 301, 381, 457, 643, 885, 886, 910, 936, 946 See also xin 心 dao xue 道學 (daoxue, Dao Learning, the studies of Dao), 21, 62, 90, 148, 246, 500–504, 506, 508, 510, 511, 512, 519 Daoxue liezhuan 道學列傳, 149 Darwall, Stephen, 427, 428, 873, 874, 878, 964 Da shi ji 大事紀 (Chronicle of Major Events), 177 Daxue 大學 (Great Learning), 25, 29, 30, 32, 44, 61, 62, 64, 65, 66, 71, 72, 73, 75, 76, 77–80, 83, 84, 86, 98, 104, 115, 116, 146, 147, 197, 200, 201, 202, 203, 216, 229, 247, 289–292, 296, 298, 299, 308, 314, 315, 316, 397, 398, 406, 446, 450–452, 467, 469, 482, 487, 499, 502, 512, 528, 538, 546, 569, 684, 687, 688, 693, 696, 697, 716, 723, 747, 748, 767, 769, 774, 799, 826, 838, 846, 853, 882, 907, 970, 912, 976 Daxue Gezhi Buzhuan 大學格致補傳 (An Additional Remark of “Gezhi” in the Great Learning), 229 Daxue Huowen 大學或問 (Queries on the Great Learning, Some Questions on the Great Learning, Questions and Answers about the Great Learning) 65, 315, 564, 838 Daxue Yanyi 大學衍義 (Extended Meaning of the Great Learning), 197 Daxue Zhangju Xu 大學章句序 (Preface to the Commentary on Daxue), 147 Daxue Zhangju 大學章句 (The Verses and Sentences of the Great Learning, an Annotation of the great Learning, Commentary on Daxue), 30, 64, 147, 292, 450, 455, 469, 475, 476, 477, 480, 481, 487, 492, 493 De bary, William Theodore, 116, 120, 169, 170, 188, 196, 383, 476, 526, 772, 933, 946, 947 de 德 (virtue, inborn character, powers), 64, 330, 507, 690, 865, 868, 907 de 得 (attainment, obtaining), 330, 907 De Harlez, Charles, 692–693, 698, 700, 701, 984 Deng Guangming 鄧廣銘, 186 Deng Xiumei 鄧秀梅, 187 Deontological ethical theories (deontological ethics), 930, 932 Descartes, Rene, 574, 882

985 De-secularization, 703 Determinism, 9, 345, 348–351, 354–356, 615 Dexing zhizhi 德性之知 (virtuous knowledge), 226, 318, 913 See also zhi 知 Di er yi 第二義 (secondary importance), 637, 798 Dietrichson, Paul, 951, 952, 954 Ding Weixiang 丁為祥, 182 Dingxingshu 定性書 (Calming One’s Nature), 414 dizi zhi 第子職 (duties of disciples), 104 dokon no den or suchikane no tsutae 土金の 伝 (Teaching of earth and metal), 771 Dong Zhongshu 董仲舒, 7, 74, 131–135, 138, 140, 267, 403, 617, 922 Dongguanji 東觀集, 399 Donglai boyi 東萊博議 (Master Donglai’s Extensive Deliberations on the Zuo Commentary), 177 Doris, John, 11, 895–907, 916–918, 923 Drysdale, S., 931 Dualism, 146, 151, 207, 208, 243, 246, 258, 259, 266, 271, 273, 274, 276, 279, 280, 324, 578, 596, 696, 697, 800, 831 Dualistic-naturalistic, 691 Duan 端 (sprouts, indications, beginnings), 83, 117, 367, 375–377, 379, 778, 934, 942, 944 Duan Changwu 段昌武, 95 Duan Yucai 段玉裁, 212, 214, 215 dun wu 頓悟 (sudden enlightenment), 204, 269, 332, 458, 624, 746 Dushi Guanjian 讀史管見 (Limited Insights While Reading History), 101 dushu fa 讀書法 (method of reading), 53, 57, 91, 457 Du You 杜佑, 546, 553 Dynamic materialism, 699 Dynamism, 131, 244, 249, 259, 477, 629, 630 E e 惡, 267, 283 See also Evil Ebrey, Patricia, 488, 526, 536, 538 Eco-centrism, 609 Eco-cosmopolitanism, 610 Ecological ethics, 594 Ecological holism, 603 Ecosophy, 594 E’hu zhi hui 鵝湖之會 (Meeting at E’hu), 34 Elitism, 843, 845, 850 Elstein, David, 840

986 Emotion, 3–6, 9, 118, 122, 132, 137, 138, 163, 172, 174, 176, 214, 215, 228, 303, 323, 332, 333, 414, 417, 420, 423, 427, 431, 433, 436, 453–455, 459, 461, 479, 485, 486, 505, 506, 532, 534, 643, 667, 701, 723, 743–745, 747, 749–753, 755–756, 773, 774, 782, 811, 815, 816, 823, 824, 825, 866, 867, 868, 874, 875, 876–879, 888, 892, 909, 922, 933, 941, 942, 944–948, 963, 967, 969, 973 Emotivism, 929 Empathy, 12, 390, 396, 419, 426–429, 431–433, 440, 492, 514, 515, 601, 776, 777, 782, 891, 906, 963–978 Empiricism, 576 Emulation model, 896, 902, 903, 916, 918, 923 Enlightenment, 48, 85, 185, 204, 269, 294, 296, 300, 301, 305, 307, 308, 310, 332, 340, 458, 536, 576, 585, 624, 638, 746, 786, 850, 880, 913 Entification, 789 Environmental ethics, 9, 593–610, 820 Epistemology, 2, 8, 49, 121, 250–254, 259, 453, 799, 837 Ercheng Cuiyan 二程粹言 (Refined Sayings of the Cheng Brothers), 406, 415 Ercheng Quanshu 二程全書 (Complete Works of the Cheng Brothers), 405 Ercheng Qwaishu 二程外書 (Other Works of the Cheng Brothers), 406 Ercheng Wenji 二程文集 (Essays of the Cheng Brothers), 405 Ercheng Yishu 二程遺書 (Surviving Works of the Cheng Brothers), 405, 406, 415, 769, 772 Ethical naturalism, 814–816, 818, 819 Ethical theory, 11, 603, 873–875, 877, 879, 929–957, 972 Europeans, 7, 11, 48, 105, 447, 525, 528, 655, 682, 684, 690–692, 694, 695, 702, 711, 712, 717, 720, 721, 727–729, 786, 787, 789, 790, 794–800, 803 Evil [Except Chapter 17, “The Problem of Evil in Zhu Xi’s Thought”], 2, 9, 97, 112, 120, 122, 123, 124, 173, 204, 205, 207, 226, 230, 236, 255, 267–268, 291, 300, 325–326, 471, 507, 512, 577, 604, 626, 710, 745, 755, 758, 766, 824, 825, 866, 876, 911, 921, 935, 942, 944 See also e 惡 Explanatory metaphysics, 922 See also Metaphysics

Index Externalism, 827, 873–892 F Fayan 法言 (Exemplary Sayings), 133 Faber, Ernst花之安, 691–692, 701 Faction, 179, 186, 213, 753 Faculties, 5, 119–123, 229, 251, 271, 272, 275, 292, 306, 317, 363, 371, 584, 610, 703, 801, 868, 875, 937, 940 Fairness, 89, 913, 934, 970 fajia 法家, see Legalism Fan Chi 樊遲, 530, 533 Fang Dongmei 方東美 (Thomé H. Fang), 718 Fang Dongshu 方東樹, 215 Fang Xudong 方旭東, 525 Fang Yizhi 方以智, 788 Fan Zhongyan 范仲淹, 402, 404, 409, 413, 420, 435, 468, 479 fasheng liuxing 發生流行 (the emerging and flowing tianli or liangzhi), 295, 301, 305 Feelings, 3–6, 26–29, 50, 73, 81, 95, 99, 102, 103, 111, 118, 129, 133, 137, 138, 146, 159, 160, 162, 163, 166, 174, 210, 214, 244, 254, 255, 258, 270–273, 282, 303, 314, 319-323, 325, 326, 334, 338, 354, 366, 367, 371, 375–377, 380, 412, 427, 431, 439, 467, 472, 473, 478, 479, 483–492, 534, 547, 548, 601, 607, 608, 621, 623, 624, 629, 643, 662, 710, 743, 745, 750–753, 774, 778, 787, 799, 816, 823, 824, 842, 866–868, 876, 882, 888, 898, 908, 909, 920–922, 935, 936, 938, 945, 947, 948–952, 957, 963–971, 975, 977, 978 fen 分 (part, share), 557, 861 Feng Youlan 馮友蘭, 215, 221, 224, 575, 576, 704, 706, 712, 719 Fingarette, Herbert, 112, 113, 849, 850 Flanagan, Owen, 897, 900 Foot, Philippa, 815, 817 Foreign missionary-scholars, 682, 727 Forke, Alfred, 704, 712 Foundational metaphysics, 922 See also Metaphysics Foundations of the metaphysics of morals, 938 Free will, 235, 237, 350, 355, 356, 817, 878, 938 Fujii Michiaki 藤井倫明, 382 Fukui Kojun, 669 Fung Yiu-ming, 131, 314, 348

Index Fung Yu-lan 馮友蘭, see feng youlan 馮友蘭 fu qi chu 復其初 (to return to the original state [of the mind]), 300, 306, 309 Fu Sheng 伏生, 97 Fu Xi 伏羲, 230, 535 Fu Xihong 傅錫洪, 528 Fuxing 復性 (restoring nature), 643 G Gadamer, Hans-Georg, 48–50, 63, 64, 67 Ganyingpian 感應篇 (Treatise on Response and Retribution), 651 gao 告 (sacrificial reports), 534, 535 Gao Panglong 高攀龍, 692 Gaozi 吿子, 456 Gardner, Daniel K., 50–52, 60, 64, 71, 72, 75, 111, 112, 115, 118, 150, 229, 313–315, 501, 502, 509, 512, 526, 528, 568, 569, 832, 848, 911, 934, 949 Ge Hong 葛洪, 652 Geomancy, 523, 526, 536, 544, 546, 547, 559–561 Gernet, Jacques, 787, 789 gewu 格物 (interact with things, investigating things, investigation of things, investigating affairs, reaching out to the things), 4, 6, 8, 11, 51, 53, 60, 64, 65, 78, 79, 81, 121, 173, 198, 199, 200, 202, 247, 255, 275, 285, 290, 291, 292, 293, 294, 295, 446, 448, 453, 455, 456, 462, 512, 546, 589, 620–624, 628, 629, 656, 698, 748, 751, 786, 792–795, 799, 800, 851, 862, 869, 912, 913, 939, 949 See also gewu qiongli 格物窮理; gewu zhizhi 格物致知 gewu qiongli 格物窮理 (apprehension of the principles in things and probing principle), 313, 314, 316, 320, 321, 326, 668, 676 See also gewu 格物 gewu zhizhi 格物致知 (reach out to the things and extend our knowledge, interact with things and extend knowledge), 121, 223, 447, 448, 453, 546, 912 See also gewu 格物 Globalism, 897, 899, 900 God, 11, 67, 153, 598, 608, 626, 627, 689, 694, 714, 724, 772, 785, 787, 789, 793–799, 803, 809 Golas, P., 485, 488 Gomō Jigi 語孟字義 (Meaning of Terms in Analects and Mencius), 775

987 gong 公 (disinterested way, unselfishness, impartiality), 337, 415, 417, 480, 934 Gongfu 工夫or 功夫 (cultivating activities, practice and effort), 6, 322, 323, 445, 568, 769 See also gongfu 工夫論 gongfu lun 工夫論 (methodology for self-cultivation, methodology or theory of self-cultivation), 6, 330 See also gongfu 工夫 gongli 功利 (utilitarian, results and advantages), 176, 182, 183, 874, 877, 929, 930 gongxin 公心 (the impartial mind), 307 Gowans, Christopher W., 820, 821 Graf, Olaf, 707, 710–712, 717, 718, 726, 728 Graham, Angus C., 137, 153, 154, 267, 268, 284, 345, 366–368, 377, 406, 525, 567, 651, 652, 658, 662, 664, 787, 790, 796, 942, 943, 955, 956 Greek and Roman civilization, 708 gu rou 骨肉 (flesh and bone), 531 Guan Zhong 管仲, 113, 181, 182, 399 Guerra, Joaquim Angélico de Jesus 戈振東, 683, 688, 707, 715–717, 728 Guo Fangru 郭芳如, 135 Guo Moruo 郭沫若, 705 Gui shen 鬼神 (ghost and spirit, ghosts and spirits, spirit and ghost, spiritual beings), 523, 527–529, 533, 614, 615, 621, 625, 726, 785 Gu Yanwu 顧炎武, 204 Guo Yong 郭雍, 283, 556 Guoyu 國語 (Discourses of the states), 391–397, 422, 429, 552 H Hackmann, Heinrich Friedrich, 704, 712 Hansen, Chad, 50, 789 Han Wŏn-jin 韓元震, 754, 758 Hanxue 漢學 (Han Learning School), 212 Hanyang 涵養 (conservation and nourishing), 4, 6, 146, 163–166, 223, 655 Han Yu 韓愈, 7, 23, 62, 65, 74, 136–140, 267, 336, 401–403, 637, 643 Hao Jing郝經, 197 Harbison, Warren, 947 Harbsmeier, Christoph, 371, 789 Harman, Gilbert, 896, 897, 900 Hartshorne, Hugh, 898 Hartwell, Robert, 502 he 和 (equilibrium, harmony), 27, 84, 174, 332, 333, 453, 607, 847, 866, 909, 941

988 He Ji何基, 196 Heng qu Yishuo 橫渠易說 (Zhang Zai’s Explication of the Book of Change), 410 hengshe gongfu 橫攝工夫 (the horizontal model of moral cultivation), 223, 235, 237 Heretic, 716 Hermeneutics, 2, 7, 47–67, 199, 252, 474, 494, 650, 656, 657, 665, 671, 674, 676, 685, 686, 689, 690, 693, 705, 712, 722, 728, 849, 880 He Shiming 何世明, 713 Hetu 河圖 [the (Yellow) River Chart], 559, 653, 657, 675 Heteronomous system, 887 Heteronomy, 223, 233, 234, 889 Historical studies, 177, 178, 183, 440, 441, 706, 778 Hoffman, Martin, 427, 432, 964–966, 975, 977 Hölderin, 712 Holistic, 50, 75, 181, 248, 258, 366, 378, 470, 477, 484, 485, 488, 492, 573–575, 579, 583, 588, 589, 595, 599, 603, 604, 610, 786, 795, 939 Holmyard, E.J., 655, 672 Hongfan 洪範 (The Great Plan), 740 Hooker, Brad, 820, 821 Horizontal model 橫攝型態, 223, 235, 237, 238 Houtiantu 後天圖 (Diagram of the Posterior Heaven), 653, 657, 668 Hsiao Kung-chuan 蕭公權, 475, 478, 481, 489, 493, 652 Hsü Pao-chien, 657 hua 化 (transform), 528 Huainanzi 淮南子, 391, 393, 400, 403, 570, 651, 665, 675 Huang Baijia 黃百家, 149 Huang Chun-chieh 黃俊傑, 865 Huang Gan 黃幹, 37, 38, 104, 158, 196, 534 Huangdi 黃帝, 651, 652 Huangdi Neijing 黃帝內經, 555 Huangdi Yinfujing 黃帝陰符經 (The Classic of the Secret Talisman), 649, 654, 656, 657, 674–676 huang ji 皇極 (Imperial Ultimate, emperor’s power), 187 Huangji jingshi shu 皇極經世書 (book for augustly and supremely ordering the world), 99, 101 Huang Kan 皇侃, 500, 501, 509, 514 Huang-Lao 黃老, 36, 652, 674 Huang Nie 黃糵, 639

Index Huangqing jingjie 皇清經解 (Canonical Interpretations of the August Qing), 691 Huang Ruijie 黃瑞節, 671 Huang Siu-chi, 110, 119 Huangtingjing 黃庭經 (Yellow Court Classic), 651 Huang Tsung-yen, see Huang Zongyan Hu Anguo 胡安國, 33, 90, 99–101, 105, 161, 171 Huangwang daji 皇王大紀 (Great Annals of Exalted One’s and Kings, Great Record of Emperors and Kings), 101, 171 Huang Yong, 229, 314, 317, 319–321, 600, 841, 845, 847, 848, 851, 922, 932, 963, 977 Huang Zhen 黃震, 197 Huang Zongxi 黃宗羲, 198, 199, 204, 205, 207, 212, 456, 643 Huang Zongyan, 664 Huayan 華嚴, 301 Huayan jing 華嚴經 (Huayan Sutra), 645 Hu Hong 胡宏, 20, 27, 28, 33, 90, 98, 101, 102, 150, 161, 171–174, 176, 188, 272, 569, 977 Huineng 惠能 (Sixth Patriarch), 636 Hui Shiqi 惠士奇, 215 Huizhenji 會真集, 666 Hu Juren 胡居仁, 198, 206, 768 Humanism, 117, 211, 603, 621 Humanitas, 577, 719 Hume, David, 244, 447, 809, 810, 874–876, 891, 892, 896 hun 魂 (soul), 273, 531, 533 huo ran guan tong 豁然貫通 (suddenly understand all things thoroughly), 79, 294, 296, 310 Hursthouse, Rosalind, 810, 814–821, 826–828 Hu Shih 胡適, 568, 588, 710 Hutton, Eric, 906, 915 Hu Wei 胡渭, 657 Hu Wufeng 胡五峰, see hu hong 胡宏 Hu Xian 胡憲, 15, 18, 20, 32, 33, 453, 883 Hu-Xiang School 湖湘學派, 883 Hu Yin 胡寅, 101, 102, 500 Hu Yong 胡泳, 456 Hu Yuan 胡瑗, 89, 92 Hymes, Robert, 493, 502, 503 I Iakinf (Nikita Y. Bichurin), 684, 689 ichigenki 一元氣 (Unitary generative field of qi), 776 Idealism, 183, 576

Index Idealistic, 705, 766 Ideological resistance, 703 Images, 82, 93, 112, 251, 302, 424, 485, 533, 535, 536, 538, 545–549, 559, 560, 569, 586, 672, 690, 801, 802, 975 Impersonal deified natural order, 712 Indigenization (bensehua), 708 Inductance, 135, 575, 584, 590 Inoue Tetsujirō 井上哲次郎, 765 Intellectualism, 254 Internalism, 11, 827, 873–892 Intersubjectivity, 859, 864 Intra-subjectivity, 579 Intuitionism, 214, 877, 929 Intuitive tendencies, 698 Iphak tosŏl 入學圖說 (Diagrammatic Explanations for Entering the Path of Learning), 743, 744 Isen, Alice, 898 Itō Jinsai 伊藤仁斎, 764, 775–781 Ivanhoe, Philip J., 2, 187, 268, 367, 510, 755, 837, 851, 911, 921, 974 J Jaworski, William, 301 Jesuits, 105, 683, 698, 794 Jia Gongyan 賈公彥, 89, 103 Jiang Fan 江藩, 215 Jiang Weisheng 蔣偉勝, 175 Jiang Yong 江永, 215, 688 Jian wu 漸悟 (gradual enlightenment), 458 Jian xing cheng fo 見性成佛 (seeing nature and achieving the buddhahood), 269 Jiao Xun 焦循, 215 Jia Yi 賈誼, 395 jiduhua (transformed by christ / christianizing), 708 jieran zhi jue 介然之覺 (suddenly awakening/ small awakening), 308, 910 See also jue 覺 Jin Chunfeng 金春峰, 382, 575 jing 經, 51, 132, 181 jing 精 (delicacy, life energy, vital-essence), 273, 654, 662, 664, 912 jing 靜 (still/non-activity, quiet, tranquil-­ passivity, passivity and openness), 164, 340, 341, 662, 665, 667, 668, 911 jing 敬 (concentration, concentrative spirit, mindfulness, mindful sincerity, mindful-sincerity, reverence, reverent seriousness, seriousness), 4, 64, 146, 163, 164, 198, 255, 297, 306, 415, 416,

989 454, 457, 524, 533, 536, 568, 636, 667, 668, 675, 676, 700, 744, 764, 911, 932, 936, 947–950 jing guan dong jing 敬貫動靜 (seriousness penetrating stillness and activity, maintain a reverential attentiveness throughout the pre-arisen tranquil states and the post-arisen active states), 165, 459, 461 See also jing 敬 jingshi zhi yong (ordering the world, statecraft), 73, 86, 99, 176, 519 jingtian (well-field system), 171, 178 jingtu Zhong 淨土宗 (Pure Land School), 633 jing yi zhi nei 敬以直內 (holding in reverence, concentrating for making the inner upright), 299 See also jing 敬 Jingzhaizhen 敬齋箴 (Reverence Study Exhortations), 764, 769 jing zuo 靜坐 (quiet sitting), 20, 33, 174, 199, 200, 457, 523, 526, 536 See also jing guan dong jing 敬貫動靜; jing yi zhi nei 敬以直內; jujing居敬 Jin Lüxiang 金履祥, 196 ji si 祭祀 (sacrificial offerings), 9, 125, 523, 524, 526, 530–535, 537, 538, 625 Jinsilu 近思錄 (Reflections on Things at Hand), 31, 32, 36, 74, 75, 148, 149, 154, 158, 179, 377, 466, 569, 578, 655, 685, 711, 749, 767, 850 ji wen 祭文(sacrificial prayers), 535 Johnston, Ian, 116, 146, 147, 363–365, 643, 645, 748, 799, 800 jue wu 覺悟 (enlightenment, great enlightenment), 294, 301 See also jue覺 jue 覺 (an awakening), 294, 308, 409, 641, 868 See also jieran zhi jue 介然之覺; juewu 覺 悟; dajue 大覺; mingjue 明覺 ju jing居敬 (abiding in mindfulness, to hold in the state of reverence/concentrative spirit), 297, 751 See also jing 敬 jun zi 君子 (morally noble men, superior man/ person, noble epitomes, people of high station, profound person, exemplary persons), 112, 468, 476, 475, 514, 515, 877, 879, 935–951, 954 Jurchen, 63, 100, 171, 172, 175, 180, 488

990 K Kaibara Ekiken, 711 Kai yuan li 開元禮 (Rites of the Kaiyuan Era), 535 Kami 神 (god or gods), 764, 772–774, 782 Kang Jie 康節, see shao Yong 邵雍 Kang Youwei 康有為, 450 Kantianism, 576, 929 Kant, Immanuel, 9, 11, 226–228, 245, 345, 348–352, 356–358, 873, 929 Kao Ming 高明, 527 Ke Han 柯翰, 40 Keisaishin kōgi 敬齋箴講義 (Lectures on the Reverence Study Exhortations), 764, 769 Keji 克己 (restraining oneself), 479, 911 Kermode, Frank, 66, 67 Kierkegaard, 951 Kim, Yung Sik, 2, 154, 528, 530, 543–570, 852 Kimon 崎門 (Yamazaki School), 764, 767, 775 Klancer, Catherine Hudak, 2, 113, 118, 831–854 Knapp, Keith, 843 Kobunjigaku 古文辭学 (Study of Ancient Words and Literature), 775 Kogaku 古学 (Ancient Learning), 775 Kogakuha 古学派 (School of Ancient Learning), 765 Kogigaku 古義学 (Study of Ancient Meaning), 775 Koguryŏ, 740 Kong 空 (emptiness), 363, 366, 368, 460, 461, 627, 637, 889 Kong Anguo 孔安國, 38, 97, 100, 105, 501, 504, 505, 508, 509, 511, 513–515, 517 Kong Ji 孔伋, 115 Kongtong Daoshi 空同道士 (the Daoist Master of Voided Identity), 672, 674 kongtou hanyang 空頭涵養 (void of the source of moral motivation), 223, 237 Kong Yingda 孔穎達, 89, 94 Kongzi 孔子 (Confucius), 7, 25, 26, 28, 31, 32, 38, 104, 109, 125, 129, 180, 842 Kongzi Jiayu 孔子家語 (Family Words of Confucius), 104 Korsgaard, Christine M., 233, 875, 877, 882, 890–892 Koryŏ, 741, 742 Kung fu 工夫 or 功夫, see Gongfu kuochong 擴充 (extend), 778, 910 Kwŏn Kŭn 權近, 743, 747 Kymlicka, Will, 833–840, 844, 848, 849, 853

Index L Lao Sze-kwang 勞思光, 221, 222, 913 Laozi 老子, 1, 147, 186, 651–653, 656, 664, 694, 748 Latané, Bibb, 898 Latin, 579, 683, 686, 688, 695, 696, 712, 715, 721, 789, 796, 947 Lau Din Cheuk 劉殿爵, 292 Lee, Bruce, 445 Lee, Janghee, 121, 122 Lee Ming-huei 李明輝, 221, 356, 932, 939 Lee Shui Chuen 李瑞全, 221 Legalism, 109, 113, 653 Le Gall, Stanislas, 685, 694–695, 698, 700, 701, 716, 717, 726 Legge, James 理雅各, 685 lei 類 (class, kind), 531, 533 Leibniz, Gottfried, 853 Levin, Paula, 898 Lewis, Clarence, 253, 939 li 利 (utility, personal advantage, profit), 82, 173, 182, 232, 330, 869 li 厲 (wraith), 528 li 理 (coherence, coherent patterns, cosmic principle, guiding pattern/principles, law, laws of nature, norms of human life, norms, order, pattern, pattern, patterns, principle of coherence, principle, principles, reason), 4, 9, 205, 244, 446, 450, 451, 453–457, 459–462, 466, 476–482, 488, 527, 531, 573, 576, 581, 585–588, 590, 749, 750, 766, 777–779, 786, 791, 796, 798, 846, 858 See also li qi 理氣; Lixue理學; tian li 天理 li 禮 (propriety, correct ritual demeanor and practice, rites, appropriateness, ritual practice), 5, 75, 81, 83, 111, 112, 125, 173, 182, 252–258, 272, 329, 337, 338, 395, 456, 484, 505, 600, 602, 729, 764, 821, 831, 832, 839, 843, 844, 866, 907, 933–936, 939, 943, 944, 949–956 liang neng 良能 (innate capability, moral capability), 299, 892 liang xin良心 (conscience), 229, 235, 236, 237, 600, 602, 608, 609, 710, 756, 891, 892, 947 liangzhi 良知 (original knowledge of the good, pre-reflective conscience, innate knowing), 201, 295, 299–301, 305, 309, 455, 456, 458 Li Ao 李翱, 7, 136–139, 372, 401, 404, 642, 643 Li Caiyuan 李才遠, 294

Index Lidai zhidu xiangshuo 歷代制度詳說 (Detailed Explanations of Institutions throughout the Ages), 177 Liezi 列子, 651–653, 662 Life intent, 583, 584, 586 Li Gong 李塨, 205 Li, Jet, 445 Liji 禮記 (Book of Rites, Record of Rites, the Records of Rituals), 30, 35, 38, 62, 71, 72, 73, 78, 84, 115, 213, 289, 291, 391, 446, 499, 526, 527, 528, 531, 532, 537, 538, 549, 552, 553, 557, 642, 688, 716, 841, 907, 917 Lijing 禮經 (Book of Rites), 30, 35, 38, 71, 72, 73, 78, 84, 115, 213, 289, 291, 446, 499, 526, 527, 528, 531, 532, 537, 538, 642, 907, 917 Liji Zhengyi 禮記正義 (Correct Meaning of the book of Rites), 291 Li Kexing 李可心, 172 Lingyen Lishao 靈言蠡勺, 800 Lin Huangzhong 林黃中, 100 Lin Lechang 林樂昌, 159 Lin Yueh-hui 林月惠, 221 Lin Zezhi 林擇之, 28 Lin Zhiqi 林之奇, 90 Li qi 理氣 (noncorporeal and corporeal, the dualism of principle and the physical), 146, 151, 266, 271, 273, 279, 884 See also 理 Li Tong 李侗, 15, 19–20, 26, 27, 32, 41, 161, 333, 453, 454 Li Tongxuan 李通玄, 372 Liu Chang 劉敞, 36 Liu Cunren 柳存仁, 670 Liu, JeeLoo, 158, 208, 243, 644, 857–871, 908, 921 Liujing 六經 (Six Classics), 26, 30, 52, 61, 74, 133, 149, 158, 671, 709, 768, 775 Liu Mianzhi 劉勉之, 15, 18 Liu Mu 劉牧, 658, 661, 662 Liu Qingsi 劉清四, 18 Liu Qingzhi 劉清之, 451 Liu Shu-hsien 劉述先, 233, 243, 705, 909, 913 Liu Ts’un-yan 柳存仁, see Liu Cunren 柳存仁 Liu Xiang 劉向, 398, 401, 403 Liu Xin 劉歆, 101 Liu Yin 劉因, 197 Liu Zihui 劉子翬, 15, 17–19 Liu Ziyu 劉子羽, 15, 18 Liu Zongyuan 柳宗元, 134 Liu Zongzhou 劉宗周, 199, 204, 207, 211, 212, 456

991 lixue 理學 (Principle-centered learning, Song-Ming Confucianism, School of Principle), 169, 244, 453, 596, 691, 692, 699, 704, 709, 722, 882, 884 See also 理 Li Yanping 李延平, see li Tong 李侗 li yi fen shu 理一分殊 (one li with many manifestations, li is one and at the same time differentiated, principle is one but the dues are multifarious, principle is one and differentiates into many), 13, 248, 301, 410, 411, 587, 598, 604, 609, 624, 644, 719, 885, 908 See also yiben wanshu 一本萬殊 Li Zehou 李澤厚, 121 Li Zhi 李贄, 196 li zhi shi 理之實 (the reality of principle), 225, 274 Li Zhizao 李之藻, 787, 803 Local traits (or virtues), 896, 900–918 Lu Benzhong 呂本中, 500 Lü Dajun 呂大鈞, 37 Lü Dalin 呂大臨, 18, 268 Lu Jiuling 陸九齡, 34 Lu jiuyuan 陸九淵, 7, 21, 32–35, 169–189, 198, 199, 201, 203–205, 216, 635, 691, 698, 725, 739, 887, 956 Lunheng 論衡 (Discourses Weighed in the Balance), 135 Lunyu 論語 (Analects), 25, 61, 95, 110, 133, 146, 252, 289, 392, 400, 406, 408, 414–418, 421, 436, 492, 696, 697, 767, 949 Lunyu Huowen 論語或問 (Questions and Answers on the Analects), 406, 451 Lunyu Jizhu (Commentary on the Analects /論 語集注 (the Collected Commentaries on the Analects), 30, 61, 95, 406, 469, 475, 479, 480, 483, 485, 486, 490–492, 832, 842 Lunyu Jizhu 論語集注 (Commentary on the Analects), 30, 61, 95, 406, 469, 475, 479, 480, 483, 485, 486, 490–492, 832, 842 Luo Congyan 羅從彥, 17, 19, 26, 32, 161, 500 Luo Qinshun 羅欽順, 199, 204, 206–208, 215, 383 Luoshu 洛書 (the writ of the lou river), 559, 653, 657, 658, 675 Lü Qiu 閭丘, 674 Lüshi Chunqiu 呂氏春秋 (Annals of Lü Buwei), 391, 392, 394, 400, 403, 674

992 Lu-Wang Model 陸王型態, 235, 238 Lu Xiangshan 陸象山, see lu jiuyuan 陸九淵 Lu Xun 魯迅, 460 Lu Zhao 盧肇, 619 Lü Zuqian 呂祖謙, 7, 25, 26, 31–36, 94, 101, 105, 148, 169, 175–180, 183–185, 188, 332, 850 M MacIntyre, Alasdair, 833, 835, 836, 839, 840, 842–845, 849, 930, 954 Makeham, John, 2, 61, 71, 80, 131, 500, 502, 505, 507, 513, 832, 839 Manchu, 832, 835, 836, 839, 840, 842–845, 849, 930, 954 Many others, 34, 43, 90, 102, 133, 197, 384, 500, 523, 536, 599, 620–622, 624, 629, 630, 682, 720, 833, 845, 847, 877, 878 Mao Qiling 毛奇齡, 29, 669, 673, 688, 691, 694, 716 Marchal, Kai, 176–178, 864, 932 Maruyama Masao 丸山真男, 764, 765 Marxist critique of religion, 703 Master mind(s), 700 Materialistic, 151, 324, 585, 699, 701, 717 Matthews, Kenneth E., Jr., 899 May Fourth, 94, 524, 525, 707 May, Mark, 898 Mazu Daoyi 馬祖道一, 270 McClatchie, Thomas, 688–691, 694, 700, 701 McDowell, John 307, 817, 819 Meditation, 73, 92, 174, 176, 205, 458, 560, 651, 653, 665, 667, 672, 675, 889 Meng Peiyuan 蒙培元, 382, 860, 862, 869, 870 Mengxi Bitan 夢溪筆談 (Notes and Discourse on the Dream River), 546, 549, 553, 618, 619 Mengzi 孟子 (Mencius) [Except Chapter 4, “Zhu Xi’s Four Books: The Locus Classicus of a New Confucian Philosophy” and Chapter 22, “Zhu Xi’s Political Philosophy in Context: With Special Focus on His Commentaries of the Four Books”], 7, 23, 25, 26, 28, 29, 31, 32, 61, 96, 101, 102, 110, 117, 119, 130, 146, 172, 362, 363, 390, 392, 393, 394, 395, 397, 398, 400, 401, 406, 407, 408, 411, 412, 415, 417, 420, 424, 426, 428, 434, 683, 691, 693, 696, 697, 715

Index Mengzi Huowen 孟子或問 (Questions and Answers on the Mencius), 406 Mengzi Jizhu 孟子集注 (Commentary on the Mencius), 30, 406, 467–475, 488, 823, 975 Mengzi Ziyi Shuzheng 孟子字義疏證 (Commentary on the Meanings of Terms in the Mencius, An Evidential Examination of the Key Terms and Ideas in the Mencius), 212, 434 Metaphor(s), 22, 58, 173, 206, 233, 251, 302, 308, 326, 335, 337, 365, 367, 456, 487, 488, 517, 518, 560, 584, 614, 615, 627, 644, 652, 654, 727, 955, 956 Metaphysical foundation, 206, 246, 258, 271, 276, 719, 866 Metaphysical–physical two-tiered ontology, 5, 146, 151, 154, 324 Metaphysics [Except Chapter 12, “Li and Qi as Supra-Metaphysics”], 2, 5, 6–8, 11, 72, 75, 77, 78, 85, 86, 131, 183, 197, 205–212, 215, 285, 383, 449, 453, 461, 501–503, 513, 569, 588, 663, 665, 667, 686, 689, 694, 705, 714, 719, 720, 725, 727–729, 743, 758, 803, 837, 851, 857–859, 864, 866, 867, 869, 871, 921, 922, 951 See also Explanatory metaphysics; Foundational metaphysics Methodology, 6, 8, 10, 110, 111, 248, 321, 330, 333, 439, 575, 613–630, 656, 667, 703, 712–714, 718, 723–725, 799, 873, 939 mianqiang 勉強 (forcing oneself, exerting effort), 309, 314, 323–326, 975 Michael, Thomas, 651 Milgram, Stanley, 898 ming 明 (enlightenment, perspicacity, seeing clearly, understanding, clear-­ sightedness), 36, 48, 85, 185, 204, 269, 274, 294, 300, 301, 305–307, 310, 332, 340, 372, 405, 406, 438, 452, 458, 468, 576, 624, 638, 685, 746, 769, 786, 846, 850, 880, 913, 934 See also mingde 明德; ming mingde 明明德 Mingdao 明道, see Cheng Hao 程顥 mingde 明德 (bright virtue), 236, 290, 300, 306, 308, 309, 644, 905, 907, 912, 943 See also ming 明 ming fen 名分 (names and roles), 641 Mingjue 明覺 (clear intuition), 301 See also jue 覺 Mingli tan 名理探, 790

Index ming mingde 明明德 (to illustrate the illustrious virtue), 289, 290, 298, 306, 644 See also ming 明 Mingru Xue’an 明儒學案 (Scholarly Records of Ming Confucians), 198 ming wei gui 民為貴 (the people are important), 468 Missionaries, 682, 686, 688, 691, 703, 786–790, 792–795 Missionary-scholars, 681–688, 690–695, 697–700, 702–704, 712, 715, 718, 721, 724, 726–728 Mo Di 墨翟, 401 Mohism, 212 Monism, 9, 153, 158, 206, 243, 259, 576–578, 583, 585–567, 590, 690, 707, 712, 727 Monod, Paul, 503 Moore, G.E., 809, 810 Moral agency, 11, 177, 270, 279, 835, 842, 869, 929, 930, 932–935, 938, 957, 973 Moral agent, 201, 202, 274, 316, 486, 518, 599, 604, 833, 834, 867, 870, 939, 940, 964, 967, 970 Moral character, 78, 236, 265, 266, 276, 277, 350, 722, 744, 750, 751, 753, 835, 842, 863, 879, 880, 896, 897, 930, 931, 953 Moral exemplar, 92, 896, 902, 903, 917, 918,934, 949, 957 Moral feeling, 6, 282, 938, 945, 947, 951, 952 Morality of care, 466, 482, 489–492 Morality of impartiality, 466, 482, 489–491 Moral metaphysics (daode xingershangxue), 7, 72, 74, 77, 78, 85, 86, 719, 743, 758, 859, 864, 867, 921, 922 Moral obligation, 482, 787, 813, 840, 867, 945, 954, 972 Moral politics, 9, 465–494 Moral principle 道德之理, 11, 54, 55, 56, 58–60, 81, 93, 102, 156, 164, 201, 213, 221–238, 246, 255–257, 259, 275, 279, 281, 282, 284, 285, 303, 315, 317, 320-322, 324-326, 329, 331, 339, 342, 457, 518, 537, 582, 609, 743, 748, 755, 766, 837, 852, 858, 859, 864, 865, 868–870, 874, 875, 877, 882, 884, 885, 887, 892, 939, 954, 955 Moral psychology, 2, 3, 5, 6, 8, 9, 11, 12, 160, 198–200, 202, 215, 216, 361–384, 503, 746, 749, 750, 753, 758, 879, 897, 900, 942, 963, 964, 976, 978 Moral realism, 11, 857–871 Moral relativism, 858 Moral skepticism, 858

993 Moral subjectivism, 265, 268, 270, 273 Moral subjectivity, 601 Moral will, 933–940, 942, 944–946, 950, 951 Mou Zongsan 牟宗三, 2, 8, 72, 119, 121, 160, 162, 172, 176, 208, 215, 221–238, 258, 294, 295, 314, 316, 321, 326, 332, 355, 357, 382, 457, 458, 576, 602, 705, 719, 884, 887, 892, 922 Mozi 墨子, 392, 403, 645, 748 Multiple realizability, 301 Multiple realizations, 301 Murdoch, Iris, 930 Myōkei 妙契 (marvelous correspondence), 771, 782 Myriad things, 64, 65, 75, 81, 82, 152, 249, 253, 280, 331, 334, 339, 367, 480, 510, 519, 561, 562, 565, 579, 580, 583, 585, 587, 637, 645, 721, 796, 797, 861, 909, 967, 974, 975 N Nagarjuna, 699 Nagel, Thomas, 874, 877, 890 najia theory 納甲 (correlating the stems), 671, 673 Nakajima Ryo 中島諒, 188 Natural dialectic, 227, 228, 231, 232 Naturalism, 10, 590, 613–630, 814–819 Natural knowledge, 10, 544, 563, 567, 613–630 Needham, Joseph, 244, 556, 567–577, 617–619, 630, 652, 671, 712, 855, 933 neidan dao 内丹道 (inner-meditative alchemy), 10, 145, 649–676 nei-wai 內-外 (inward-outward), 468–474 Nelson, Mark T., 810, 811 Neo-Confucianism, 1, 24, 74, 109, 137, 148, 169, 195, 222, 268, 330, 345, 530, 573, 634, 649, 712, 739, 782, 788, 822, 866, 966 Nicolas of Cusa, 724 niejue tizheng 逆覺體證 (reflexively awakening oneself to the moral consciousness of one’s conscience), 229, 235 Nietzsche, Friedrich, 849, 896, 955 Nihon seiji Shisōshi Kenkyū 日本政治思想史 研究 (Studies in the History of Japanese Political Thoughts), 766, 782 Noël, François 衛方, 683 Non-theism, 717, 724 Non-theistic worldview, 717, 724 Normative realism, 11, 857–871

994 Normativity, 266, 268, 271, 273, 274, 284, 285, 320, 362, 599, 865, 868, 869, 877, 879, 882 Notes on Chinese Literature, 685 Nylan, Michael, 73, 133, 134 O Ogyū Sorai 荻生徂徠, 764, 775, 778 Okada Takehiko, 458 One body [Except Chapter 19, “Zhu Xi and the Idea of One Body”], 9, 81, 162, 337, 533, 584, 590, 603, 610, 888, 967, 974–977 Oneness, 50, 51, 75, 79, 249, 260, 307, 342, 411, 432, 433, 440, 441, 487, 579, 580, 589, 590, 918, 967, 974–978 Ontology, 5, 6, 146, 150–156, 158–160, 165, 166, 258–260, 324, 524, 667, 720, 865, 879 Organicism, 9, 576, 577, 583, 585, 587, 590 Ouyang Xiu 歐陽修, 36, 89, 90, 98, 643 P Paek I-jŏng 白頤正, 741 Pak Che-ga 朴齊家, 739 Pak Se-dang 朴世堂, 754 Pan-cognitivism, 317, 321, 326, 457 Pan-cognitivist theory of ge wu, 316 Pan Fuen 潘富恩, 170 Pan Jingyu 潘景愈, 34 Pan Pingge 潘平格, 205 Pantheism, 306, 699 Pantheistic, 726, 727 Partiality, 257, 601 Patt-Shamir, Galia, 243–260, 266 Peng Guoxiang, 848 Personal God, 598, 627, 714 Personality (of the Divine), 180, 184, 347, 356, 441, 529, 635, 664, 701, 717, 767, 875, 876, 887, 890, 897, 899–902 Perspectivism, 955 Phenomenological epochẻ, 649, 650 Phenomenology, 85, 650, 676, 694 Philosophy of culture, 725, 729 Philosophy of religion, 2, 8, 9, 523–538, 705, 725 Physical nature, 204, 205, 211, 255, 345–358, 752, 945 Pigden, Charles R., 809, 810 Ping chang xin shi dao 平常心是道 (the ordinary mind is the Way), 270 Plato, 578, 623, 712, 729, 831, 874

Index Platonism, 577 po 魄 (soul), 272, 531, 533 Polarity, 2, 4, 11, 85, 151–153, 156, 173, 185, 186, 243, 244, 249, 260, 523, 524, 526, 529, 574, 589, 638, 649, 650, 653, 656, 657–662, 665-669, 673–676, 774, 793, 795, 796, 797, 798, 933 Post-Vatican II theological approach, 715, 717 Post-WWII, 10, 680, 703, 707, 717 Practical reason, 234, 818, 873, 877, 931, 936–938, 941, 954 Pragmatic, 205, 245, 252, 253, 256, 258–260 Pragmatism, 253 Pre-Qin Confucianism, 7, 109–125, 145, 880–882, 884, 887 Pre-WWII, 10, 682, 702, 703, 712, 727 Prime reality, 714 Principle of love, 28, 29, 161, 162, 175, 337, 338, 721, 865, 866, 868 Process philosophy, 576, 580, 581, 590, 728, 790, 803 Process theology, 728, 729 Psychological realism, 900 Putnam, Hilary, 246, 810 Q qi 器 (concrete things), 158, 159, 205, 207, 210, 477, 484, 551, 565, 623 qi 氣 (configuring and vitalizing matter-­ energy, forces, psychophysical constitution, material force, pneuma, energy, psycho-physical force, sense-data, the physical, vital air or matter, vital-breath, vital energies, vital energy, vital force, vital force(s), vital power, vital stuff), 3, 4, 8, 21, 67, 92, 119, 134, 155, 197, 205, 214, 222, 243–245, 250, 251, 254, 256, 259, 294, 301, 324, 330, 332, 352, 368–370, 378, 381, 382, 390, 409, 438, 456, 477, 484, 523, 527, 544, 575, 597, 599, 616, 638, 654, 662, 674, 675, 689, 690, 742, 744, 752, 753, 766, 791, 793, 837, 860, 883, 885, 888, 905, 909, 933 Qian Mu 錢穆, 1, 2, 27, 37, 85, 90, 94, 98, 102, 133, 148, 149, 155, 164, 165, 195, 221, 222, 382, 578, 650, 658, 668, 671, 672, 674, 705 Qian Yiben 錢一本, 204 Qi bing 氣稟 (the endowed physical constituents), 280 Qidiao Kai 漆彫開, 513

Index Qilu University, 700 qi-monism, 153, 158 qin 親 (affection), 112, 120, 148, 483, 484, 492, 506, 574, 603, 619, 743, 768, 769, 774, 922 qing 情 (emotions, fact, feelings, human emotions, sentiment, the manifested), 4, 5, 118, 137, 163, 214, 271, 277, 361, 371, 454, 644, 646, 710, 774, 909, 933 Qingdao, 697, 704 qiong li 窮理 (exhausting principles [of things/ affairs], exhaustive-comprehension of pattern/principle, exhaustively investigating the li, extend principle to the utmost, extending principle to the utmost, fathoming the principle, grasping and exhausting li as it resides in things, grasping and exhausting li, probing principle, probing the principle of coherence to the utmost), 4, 6, 59, 64, 224, 285, 292, 293, 315, 411, 453, 459, 480, 656, 768, 912 qi qing 七情 (Seven Emotions, feelings), 3–6, 26, 27, 73, 81, 95, 99, 111, 137, 138, 146, 159, 160, 163, 166, 174, 255, 270–273, 282, 354, 371, 373, 376, 378–380, 391, 413, 414, 427, 431, 478, 479, 483–492, 643, 743–745, 749–752, 755, 758, 774, 936, 963, 964, 967 Qiu Zhaoao 仇兆鰲, 669 qi yiyuanlun 氣一元論, see Qi-monism qi zhi zhi shuo 氣質之說 (the theory of physical constitution), 276, 278 qi zhi zhi xing 氣質之性 (embodied nature, nature of the contingent constitution, corporeal nature), 23, 119, 204, 211, 255, 266, 276, 369, 370, 588, 645, 917, 921 See also xing 性 Quadrivolume de Confucio, 715 Quan Zuwang 全祖望, 643 quan 權 (situational weighing, moral discretion, expediency), 132, 180, 181, 183, 776, 777 R Rationalistic tendencies, 698 Rationalized secular vision, 714 Rawls, John, 833–840, 845, 848, 849, 853 Realism, 11, 211, 246, 254, 260, 686, 857–871, 900

995 Reality, 3, 4, 35, 48–50, 52, 64, 67, 122, 152, 153, 161, 162, 178, 186, 207, 208, 209, 223, 225, 226, 234, 237, 246, 248, 258, 260, 274, 307, 336, 341, 352, 362, 369, 370, 377, 437, 457, 460, 474, 475, 476, 480, 483, 484, 486–488, 491, 492, 500, 512, 518, 532, 565, 566, 574, 578, 604, 615, 623, 624, 625–629, 637, 638, 701, 711, 714, 719, 722, 723, 728, 743, 751, 758, 785–787, 789, 800, 803, 885, 888, 922 Regan, Tom, 606 Religio-philosophy, 47, 650–652, 655, 656, 665, 674, 676 Religious thought, 2, 525, 526, 724, 725 ren 仁 (benevolence, humanity, humaneness, the disposition of love, humane cultivation, charitas, humanitas), 701, 712, 721, 724, 821, 840, 859, 866, 867, 882, 907, 920, 943, 964 Ren Daodi 任道弟, 299 Ren Jiyu 任繼愈, 526 ren lun 人倫 (human relationship), 80, 300, 470, 481, 482, 484, 486–491, 639, 641, 642, 937, 955, 957, 972, 976, 978 Renshuo 仁說 (A Discourse on Humaneness/ Treatise on Humaneness), 28–30, 32, 33, 35, 44, 112, 113, 160, 161, 213, 256, 272, 281, 305, 333, 336, 407, 583, 586, 600, 601, 603, 604, 606, 743, 774, 866, 868, 907, 908, 910, 912, 918, 920, 976 renshuotu 仁說圖 (Diagram of the Treatise on Ren), 868 Ren xin 人心 (human mind, human-mind, the mind which is muddled with qi), 11, 63, 77, 78, 160, 211, 251, 253, 255, 275, 279, 301, 316, 325, 326, 330, 333, 334, 383, 563, 568, 587, 643, 709, 745, 752, 755, 859, 862, 864, 865, 868–870, 885, 935, 941, 943, 946 See also xin 心 ren yu 人欲 (desires of humans), 34, 164, 211–213, 416, 568, 824, 910 ren zheng 仁政 (governance based on the quality of being humane), 472, 509 Ricci, Matteo 利瑪竇, 650, 680, 681, 717, 794, 798 Riraku Keibatsu 礼楽刑罰 (Rites, music, law enforcement, and political administrations), 778–782 ri yong日用 (daily lives or functions), 269, 274 Robinson, Marilynne, 852

996 Robust traits (or virtues), 897, 899, 900 Rodgers, Travis J., 901, 904, 912 Rodin, Judith, 898 Roman Catholic spirituality, 711 Rongguan shenxue 融貫神學, 713 Rosemont Jr., Henry, 840, 845, 852, 853, 933, 934 Ruan Yuan 阮元, 691 Ruism, 703, 709, 710, 713, 714, 716 Ruist, 681, 683–686, 688, 689, 691, 692, 694–697, 699, 701, 705, 706, 708–717, 719–722, 724, 727–729 Ruist canonical literature, 681, 685, 689, 715 Rujiao 儒教, 650 Ryle, Gilbert, 254 S Sambiasi, Francesco, 791, 801–803 Sancai 三才(a trinity between heaven, earth, and humankind, three capacity), 72–74, 871 Sanctification, 723, 728 san dai 三代 (Three Dynasties), 52, 177, 181, 450, 779 Sandel, Michael, 833, 835, 836, 839 San gangling 三綱領 (three parameters, three bonds, three guiding principles), 78, 79, 289, 868 Sarkissian, Hagop, 902, 904 Schipper, Kristofer, 658, 662, 664 Schirokauer, Conrad, 90, 182, 493, 502, 510, 929 Schwartz, Benjamin, 124, 129, 151, 324 Schweitzer, Albert, 434, 435, 439 Searle, John R., 810–813 Second great heretic, 716 Secularization, 524, 703, 712, 728 Seek/avoid strategy, 902, 904, 905, 907, 916, 917 Self-cultivation, 6, 8, 11, 20, 26–28, 32, 42, 43, 50, 51, 60, 72, 73, 86, 116, 124, 156, 157, 172, 174, 176, 177, 178-180, 185, 186, 195, 196, 198–206, 213, 215, 224, 259, 268, 270, 279, 285, 313, 314, 322, 324, 326, 330, 342, 347, 384, 428, 440, 475, 477, 502, 503, 506, 507, 512, 515, 523, 526, 596, 629, 649, 651, 653–656, 665, 669, 670, 674, 675, 741, 750, 756, 764, 769, 782, 875, 879–881, 911, 929, 931, 935, 941, 944, 947 Self-manipulation, 902 Self-other merging, 390, 426, 432, 433, 440

Index Self-rectification, 511, 710 Semi-ascetic lifestyle, 723 Sense-data, 4, 245, 251–254, 258, 259, 801 Sensible species, 801, 802 Sensus communis, 801 Setiya, Kieran, 874, 890 Shangdi 上帝, 692, 707, 755, 770 Shangfang Datong Zhenyuan Miaojingtu 上方 大洞真元妙經圖 (Diagram of the Wonderful-Secret Classic), 658, 664 Shangshu 尚書 (Book of Documents, Book of History), 35, 38, 63, 391, 397, 398, 404, 499, 526, 838 Shanhaijing 山海經 (Classic of the Mountains and Rivers), 554, 558 Shao Yong 邵雍, 7, 31, 89, 92, 93, 99, 101, 146, 149, 154–160, 166, 466, 565, 569, 570, 658, 675, 709 she ji 社稷 (altars of the land and grain), 533, 535 shen 神 (consciousness-spirit), 530, 625, 654, 662, 689, 957 shendu 慎獨 (cautious about what others do not know about but oneself alone knows about), 912 Shen Kuo 沈括, 618, 619 shenxian 神仙 (gods and immortals), 675 sheng 生 (creation, life, generativity, inborn-ness), 265, 273, 333, 396, 397, 599, 976 See also sheng-sheng 生生; sheng sheng zhi de 生生之德; shengyi 生意 shengming guannian 生命觀念 (concept of life), 718 shengren聖人 (sage, saint, holy one), 446, 670, 690, 693, 695, 700, 721, 905 sheng-sheng 生生 (principle of ceaseless vitality/energy; procreation of all things), 583, 885 See also sheng 生 sheng sheng zhi de 生生之德 (Principle of creation and it is present in processes of production and reproduction and the procreation of all things), 305, 885 See also sheng 生 shengyi 生意 (vitality), 583, 908 See also sheng 生 Shenjian 申鑑 (Using History as a Mirror), 404 shenxuehua de guoxue 神學的國學, 713 shi fei 是非 (feeling of right and wrong), 418 shi gongfu 實功夫 (real practice), 635

Index See also gongfu 工夫 Shi ji Zhuan 詩集傳 (Collected Commentaries to the Odes), 90, 95, 96 Shijing 詩經 (Book of Odes, Book of Poetry, Book of Songs), 72, 73, 75, 76, 94, 95, 304, 391, 393, 446, 449, 526, 528, 532, 687, 838 Shin Hudam 愼後聃, 800, 803 Shintō 神道, 763, 767 Shiwai Chuanxin zhi Yaodian 史外傳心之要典, 99 shixue 實學 (real learning), 176 Shizhuan Gangling 詩傳綱領 (Outline of the Commentary to the Odes), 95, 96 Shōheikō 昌平黌 (Shōhei School), 763 shou 壽 (long-life), 655, 671 Shu 恕 (sympathetic understanding, reciprocity, extension between similar cases, empathy, deference), 296, 304, 377, 415, 416, 427, 440, 776, 965, 966 shu 數 (numbers), 92, 93, 154, 155, 157, 160 Shu Jingnan 束景南, 20, 332, 340, 500, 502 Shuji Zhuan 書集傳 (Collected Commentaries to the Documents), 38 Shun Kwong-loi 信廣來, 293 shun li 順理 (following the principle of coherence), 477–480 shunxing 順性 (following nature), 643 Shushigaku 朱子学 (Learning of Zhu Xi), 763–769, 774, 782 Shushigakuha 朱子学派 (School of Zhu Xi Learning or Zhu Xi School), 765, 767 Shuyuan 書院 (academy), 196 siduan 四端 (four sprouts of virtue, four beginnings), 117, 173, 258, 366, 368, 373, 375–379, 749–751, 865 si wu xie 思無邪 (having no depraved thoughts), 95 si yi 私意 (intransigent selfish inclination), 418, 972 See also yu 欲 siyu 私欲 (selfish desire), 296, 301, 374, 416, 909, 973 See also yu 欲 Silla, 740, 741 Sima Guang 司馬光, 18, 89, 101, 105, 149, 150, 157, 536 Singer, Peter, 606 Sinologist(s), 500, 650, 684, 690–693, 703, 704, 712, 723–727, 787 Sishu Zhangju Jizhu 四書章句集注 (Anthologized Annotations of the Verses and Sentences of the Four Books,

997 Commentaries on the Four Books), 61, 62, 330, 466, 696 Situationism, 895–897, 899–901, 903 Situationist critique, 11, 895–900, 912, 919, 923 Situation management, 896, 901–903, 905, 907, 915–916, 923 Skinner, Quentin, 520 Slingerland, Edward, 117, 124, 129, 507–509, 513–517, 790 Slote, Michael, 810, 896, 931 Smith, Adam, 966 Smith, Michael, 892, 902 Snow, Nancy E., 917, 918 Sobel, David, 818, 820 Socrates, 226, 234, 319, 449, 918, 949 Sŏnghak shipto 聖學十圖 (Ten diagrams on Sage Learning), 750 Songru Xuean 宋儒學案, 643 Songshi 宋史 (History of Song Dynasty), 90, 103, 149, 627 Song Shi: Zhuxi Zhuan 宋史·朱熹傳 (Bibliography of Zhu Xi in the History of Song Dynasty), 627 Song Si-yŏl 宋時烈, 753, 754 Song yuan xue’an 宋元學案 (Scholarly Records of the Song and Yuan Dynasties/Song and Yuan Case Studies), 149, 172 Spencer, Herbert, 831, 832, 835, 836, 845, 850 Spinoza, 702, 711 Spiritual formation, 723, 728 Spirituality, 526, 534, 703, 724, 725 Sreenivasan, Gopal, 895, 899 Stalnaker, Aaron, 123, 124, 845, 846 Stanislas Julien prize, 698 Stotland, Ezra, 965 Strauss, Leo, 520 Subjectivism, 173, 265, 268, 270, 273, 285, 381, 956 Subjectivity, 486, 574, 603, 622, 889 Su Che 蘇徹, 90 Suika Shintō 垂加神道, 771–775 Summa, 711, 796 Sun Fu 孫復, 90 Sun Jue 孫覺, 90 Sun Shenxing 孫慎行, 204 suodangran 所當然 (what ought to be, something self-evidently right), 282, 315, 324, 447, 453, 860, 862, 869, 919, 921 suoyiran 所以然 (what makes it so), 315, 324, 858, 860, 869

998 Supererogatory, 934 Su Shi 蘇軾, 89, 90, 535, 555, 643 Swanton, Christine, 820, 821 Sympathy, 390, 396, 419, 426, 428, 429, 431, 432, 440, 601, 602, 607, 698, 963, 964, 966, 967 Synthetic vision of reality, 711 T taiji 太極 (Great Ultimate, Supreme Polarity, the great ultimate, the Great Ultimate/ Supreme Ultimate), 4, 5, 20, 85, 146, 152, 173, 186, 198, 205, 256, 296, 301, 523, 562, 575, 586, 638, 645, 686, 719, 793, 795, 796, 850, 933 See also Taiji zhi dao 太極之道; Taijitu 太 極圖; Taijitushuo 太極圖說; Taijitushuojie 太極圖說解 Taijitu 太極圖 (Diagram of the Great Polarity), 649, 650, 653, 656–669, 673, 675, 676 See also taiji 太極 Taijitu shuo 太極圖說 (Explanations of Diagram of the Great Ultimate, Explanations of Diagram of the Great Polarity, Explanations of Diagram of taiji, Discussion of the Supreme Polarity Diagram), 20, 85, 151, 249, 266, 574, 659, 690, 720, 774 See also taiji 太極 Taijitushuojie 太極圖說解 (Commentary on Zhou Dunyi’s Explication of the Meaning of the Diagram of the Great Ultimate), 340, 406 See also taiji 太極 taiji zhi dao 太極之道 (Dao of the Taiji), 662, 663 See also taiji 太極 Taiwan Xinshilin zhexue 台灣新士林哲學 (Taiwanese Neo-scholasticism), 716 tai xu 太虛 (great vagueness, the great void, the supreme vacuity), 23, 158, 159, 207, 208 Taixuanjing 太玄經 (Classic of Supreme Profundity), 133, 134 Tang Junyi 唐君毅, 8, 215, 216, 221–238, 295, 314, 320, 321, 705, 706, 718 TAN Sitong, 701 Taoism (Daoism) 道家, 10, 15, 17–21, 32, 62, 63, 72, 74, 102, 139, 145, 196, 207, 212, 331, 627, 649–676, 704, 724, 837, 880, 892

Index Tasan 茶山, see CHŎNG Yag-yong 丁若鏞 Taylor, Charles, 851, 853 Taylor, Rodney, 51, 526, 536 The Historical World of Zhu Xi 朱熹的歷史世 界, 503 See also Zhu’s Historical World Theism, 701, 711, 714, 717, 729 Theistic trend, 725 The Journal of Chinese Philosophy, 705 The Religious Thought of Chu Hsi, 2, 526 This-worldly Monism, 9, 576–580, 583, 585–587, 590 Thomism, 789, 793, 798 Thomist scholastic philosophy, 718 Thompson, Kirill O., 111–113, 117, 130, 244, 245, 846, 929–957 ti 體 (substance, fundamental state, essence), 96, 171, 209, 243, 269, 330, 409, 411, 454, 469, 484, 588, 743, 797, 860, 865, 867, 868, 884 tian 天 (cosmos, heaven, sky, firmament), 49, 52, 80, 81, 171, 291, 363, 523, 545, 690, 694, 721, 743, 882, 933 tian dao 天道, 507, 881 tiandi zhi xin 天地之心 (mind of Heaven and Earth), 330, 333, 334, 561, 590, 598, 600–602, 626 See also xin 心 tiandi zhi xing 天地之性 (nature of Heaven and Earth), 23, 255, 345, 346, 352–357, 370, 588, 600 See also xing 性 tian li天理 (coherence principle of heaven, cosmic pattern), 20, 211, 250, 255, 281, 363, 379, 383, 467, 472, 474–483, 576, 585 See also li 理 tian li zhi zi ran 天理之自然 (the naturalness of the Heavenly Principle), 281 tian ming 天命 (mandate of Heaven or heavenly mandate, conferment of heaven), 331, 683, 882, 933 tian ming zhi xing 天命之性 (the nature of the Heavenly Mandate), 276, 282 See also xing 性 tianren ganying 天人感應 (teleological inductance, resonance between Heaven and man), 135 tian ren he yi 天人合一 (the principle of the unity of heaven and man), 583 Tiantai Buddhism 天台, 699 tianxin 天心 (Heaven’s heart-mind, Heavenly mind), 640, 709, 726

Index See also xin心 ti yong 體用 (substance and function/ manifestation), 174, 210, 307, 329, 332, 335, 338, 339, 341, 342, 454, 789–792, 797, 866 tizhi 體知 (embodied knowledge), 913, see also知 Tillich, Paul, 2, 724 Tillman, Hoyt Cleveland, 2, 169–189, 493 Tiwald, Justin, 5, 125, 151, 155, 213, 324, 361–385, 455, 457, 459, 908, 909, 931, 963–978 T’oegye 退溪, see Yi Hwang 李滉 Toner, Christopher, 817 Tongjian Gangmu 通鑑綱目 (Outline and Details of the Penetrating Mirror), 102 Tongshu 通書 (Penetrating the Scripture of Changes), 148, 150, 151, 248, 574 Transcendence, 73, 85, 86, 103, 207, 258, 625, 627, 629, 849, 880, 954 Transcendent, 62, 200, 202, 204–207, 211, 296, 299–302, 305, 306, 483, 576, 582, 585, 587, 588, 766, 787, 795, 803, 865, 954 The triad model (between the mind, nature, and qing), 271–272, 275 Trigault, Nicolas, 794 tu di土地 (earth deities), 535 tui 推 (to extend, push forward), 304, 645, 826, 906, 910, 912, 968 Tu Weiming 杜維明, 73, 599, 706, 913 Two Chinese Philosophers: The Metaphysics of the Brothers Ch’eng, 525 U Utilitarian (ethics of end results), 176, 182, 183, 930 V Values, 47, 50, 53, 58, 62, 63, 65, 67, 101, 111, 115, 117, 132, 134, 176, 178, 183, 189, 213, 216, 238, 257, 260, 270, 330, 331, 364, 366, 373, 379, 483, 487, 508, 519, 529, 536, 548, 557–559, 588, 597, 603, 606, 607, 614, 615, 637, 640, 654, 658, 663, 674, 700, 703, 708, 709, 711, 718, 749, 782, 787, 788, 793, 803, 833, 834, 837, 844, 851, 853, 857, 859-861, 864, 865, 867, 869–871, 879, 886, 901, 903, 904, 930, 947, 948, 976 Van Norden, Bryan, 849, 932 Vertical model 縱貫型態, 223, 235, 237, 238

999 Virtue cultivation, 11, 895–923 Virtue ethics, 11, 329, 598, 600, 724, 814, 895–900, 902, 903, 918, 919, 923, 929–957, 972 Virtue of the mind, 333, 334, 337, 338 Vision of reality, 711, 722 Von der Gabelentz, Hans Georg Conon, 690, 691 Von Glahn, Richard, 480 W waidan 外丹 (external-chemical alchemy), 654, 672 wai wu zhi you 外物之誘 (enticements of external things), 284 wan li 萬理 (multiplicity of principle), 275 Wan Sitong萬斯同, 205 Wang Anshi 王安石, 90, 92, 103, 177, 186, 502, 503, 507, 697 Wang Bi 王弼, 74, 92, 94, 371, 500 wangchao li 王朝禮 (rituals for audiences at court), 104 Wang Chong 王充, 7, 134–136 Wang Chuanshan 王船山, see Wang Fuzhi 王夫之 wang dao 王道 (the kingly way of government), 181, 470–471, 473 Wang Fu 王符, 399, 401, 410, 420 Wang Fuzhi 王夫之, 204–213, 215, 216, 295, 587, 588, 722, 868 Wang Gen 王艮, 204 Wang Ji 王畿, 199, 204 Wang Jichang 王吉昌, 666 Wang Maohong 王懋竑, 27, 98, 204, 406 Wang Ping, 146 Wang Shouren 王守仁, 8, 196, 315, 739, 922 See also Wang Yangming 王陽明 Wang Tianyue 王天悅, 92 Wang Tingxiang 王廷相, 209 Wang Yangming 王陽明, 8, 169, 185, 188, 196, 198–207, 212, 215, 216, 235, 294–296, 315, 369, 448, 455–458, 587, 610, 694, 698, 704, 714, 716, 722, 724, 725, 747, 748, 751, 754, 765, 887, 931, 977 See also Wang Shouren 王守仁 Wang Yingling 王應麟, 197 Wang Yinzhi 王引之, 688 Wang Yucheng 王禹偁, 399 Wang Zhi 王質, 90 Ward, James, 701, 702 Wardy, Robert, 790 Warmke, Brandon, 901, 903, 904

1000 Warren, Mary Anne, 603 Weakness of will, 8, 313, 314, 876 Webber, Jonathan, 899 Wei Boyang 魏伯陽, 36, 651 wei fa 未發 (not yet manifest, unexpressed, pre-arisen, not-yet-aroused state of the feeling, the mind not yet in activated state), 26, 27, 272, 364 See also yi fa 已發; yifa weifa 已發未發 Weijin Xuanxue魏晉玄學 (Weijin Metaphysical Schools), 339 Wei Liaoweng 魏了翁, 197 Wei Ye 魏野, 399 wenjian zhi zhi 聞見之知 (knowledge of hearing and seeing), 318, 913 See also zhi 知 Western Learning, 786, 788, 792, 793, 795–800, 802, 803 Whitehead, Alfred North, 724, 790 Wieger, Léon 戴遂良, 685, 698–699, 716 Wilhelm, Richard 衛禮賢, 697, 704, 715 Williams, Bernard, 873, 875, 890, 919, 930 Wilson, Thomas, 528 Wong, David, 827, 863 World Order, 253, 588–590, 740, 938, 953 wu 無 (non-being, nothingness), 21, 152, 186, 187, 249, 566, 637, 694, 721 wu chang 五常 (Five Constant Virtues; five virtues), 137, 257, 337, 490, 623, 743, 745, 868 Wu Cheng 吳澄, 197, 198 wudangshanpai 武當山派 (Sect of Mount Wudang), 651 wude 五德 (five key social virtues), 662 wu dian五典 (five rules), 482–488 wu ji 無己 (no self), 413 wu ji 無極 (non-polarity, Nonpolar, Non-­ Ultimate, Ultimate Infinite, Ultimate of Non-being), 4, 5, 152, 159, 186, 280, 575, 638, 656, 658, 661, 666, 797 wuji er taiji 無極而太極 (non-polarity to great polarity), 152, 153, 249, 666, 693, 694, 720 Wujing 五經 (Five Canonical Scriptures/Five Classics), 7, 35–39, 72–76, 78, 89–105, 499, 502, 741, 753 wu qing 無情 (no emotions), 414, 417, 436, 486 wu wo 無我 (no self), 389, 412, 414, 415 wuxing 五行 (Five Elements, Five Agents, Five Phases), 131, 249, 544, 575, 638, 658, 674, 933 wu xing wai zhi wu 無性外之物 (there is absolutely nothing outside human nature), 266

Index Wu Yi Jing she 武夷精舍 (Wu Yi Study), 535 Wu Yubi 吳與弼, 198, 199 wu zhi shi 物之實 (the reality of things), 200, 274 Wyatt, Don, 156 Wylie, Alexander 偉烈亞力, 668, 670, 673, 685, 691 X xian dao 仙道 (immortality), 652, 653, 656, 670, 672, 673 xiang 象 (images), 93, 533, 536, 801 xiangchi gongzhang 相持共長 (support one another and approach the perfection together), 226, 234 Xiantiantu 先天圖 (Diagram of the Prior Heaven), 559, 650, 653, 657, 658, 662, 668 xian zhi hou xing 先知後行 (separation of knowledge and practice in which knowledge comes first), 885 See also zhi xing he yi 知行合一 xiao 孝 (filial piety, filiality), 52, 201, 202, 203, 325, 470, 505–506, 507, 531, 740, 752, 832, 840, 841, 842, 843, 868, 908, 910, 955 xiaodi 孝弟 (filial piety and deference to elder brothers), 17, 52, 201, 202, 203, 325, 470, 505–506, 740, 752, 832, 840, 841, 842, 843, 868, 908, 910 Xiao Jiefu 蕭萐父, 209, 705 Xiaojing 孝經 (The Book of Reverence to Elders), 17, 392, 715 Xiao Tingzhi 蕭廷之, 665 xiaoxue 小學 (primary learning), 450–452, 548, 693, 767, 769 Xie Liangzuo 謝良佐, 96, 161, 162, 409, 451, 472, 500, 569, 770 Xie Shangcai 謝上蔡, see Xie Liangzuo 謝良佐 Ximing 西銘 (Western Inscription), 23, 24, 44, 407, 410, 411, 416, 693, 719, 861 Ximing Jieyi 西銘解義 (Commentary on Zhang Zai’s Western Inscription), 24, 207, 406, xin 信 (faithfulness), 81, 137, 297, 309, 337, 487, 490, 513, 623, 743, 821, 920 xin 心 (heart-mind, heartmind, mind/heart, mind-heart), 4, 5, 21, 116–120, 162, 171, 221, 294, 316, 342, 361, 376, 379–384, 469, 531, 532, 598, 743, 865, 882, 909, 933 See also benxin 本心; Dao xin 道心; renxin 人心; tiandi zhi xin 天地之心; xin tong xing qing 心統性情; xin ju li心具理; xinti 心體

Index xin benju li 心本具理 (mind possessing the inward moral principle(s)), 223, 230 See also xin心; xin ju li心具理 xing 性 (human nature, moral essence, nature, natural tendencies), 4, 5, 21, 64, 116–120, 137, 163, 171, 202, 250, 256, 276, 280, 342, 361, 362–364, 426, 452, 453, 454, 470, 507, 563, 590, 598, 599, 637, 638, 640, 642, 699, 710, 743, 749, 764, 765, 776, 778, 780, 782, 863–866, 870, 882, 907, 933 See also benranzhixing 本然之性; qi zhi zhi xing 氣質之性; Tiandi zhi xing 天 地之性; xing ji li 性即理; Xing Shan性 善, xing-feng 性分; xingli 性理 xing-er-shang 形而上 (above-form/what is beyond fom, formless), 5, 91, 151, 153, 159, 208, 210, 247, 294, 298, 340, 379, 451, 484, 565, 597, 599, 690, 714, 864 xing-er-xia 形而下 (beneath-form what is within form), 5, 151, 153, 159, 208, 247, 294, 298, 340, 451, 565, 597, 599, 690, 714, 864 xing feng 性分 (heavenly mandate), 276, 282, 331, 609, 882, 885 See also xing 性 xing ji li 性即理 (human nature is principle), 30, 159, 176, 266, 271, 273, 274, 275, 357, 623, 824, 859, 863, 869, 884, 920 See also xing 性 xing li 性理 (the innate or intrinsic property, power or principle), 291, 296, 587, 609 See also xing 性 Xingli Daquan 性理大全 (Great Compendium of Human Natue and Defining Principle), 747 xing shan 性善 (nature that is good, human nature is morally good), 117, 265, 268, 271, 276, 283 See also xing 性 xing shan tu 性善圖 (Diagram of Human Nature), 283 xing tu 性圖 (Diagram of Human Nature), 283 xing zhi benran 性之本然 (the original [features] of human nature), 271, 272 xin ji li心即理(the heart-mind is li), 33, 202 xin ju li心具理 (mind possesses moral principle), 230, 316 See also xin 心; xin benju li 心本具理 Xinjing Fuzhu 心經附註 (Annotations to the Classic of the Heart-and-Mind), 749 xin li wei er 心理為二 (mind and moral principle as two entities), 223 See also xin 心; li 理

1001 xin ti 心體 (original state the mind), 20 See also xin 心 Xinting yu Xingting 心體與性體 (Substance of Mind and Substance of Human Nature), 2, 332 xin tong xing qing 心統性情 (the mind/heart connects human nature and feelings, the heartmind unites nature and emotions, the mind administrates or encompasses nature and qing, the heart-mind encompasses nature and emotions), 3, 6, 9, 146, 159, 160, 163, 166, 271, 274, 362, 377, 381, 888, 909 See also xin 心 xin xue 心學 (learning of the heart-mind, Heart-mind-centered learning), 2, 32, 169, 185, 188, 199, 455, 691, 722 xin zhi shi 心之實 (the reality of the mind), 274 Xiong Shili 熊十力, 215, 718 xiushen 修身 (whole person cultivation), 32, 290, 698, 769, 721, 723, 728 xiuwu 羞惡 (shame and dislike/shame), 117, 173, 338, 378, 623, 823, 824, 908, 920, 921 Xuan ye Shuo 宣夜說 (Infinite Universe theory), 616 xue li 學禮 (rituals for studying), 104 Xue Xuan 薛瑄, 198, 206, 768 Xu Fuguan 徐復觀, 468, 705 Xu Guangqi 徐光啟, 717, 787, 803 Xu Heng 許衡, 197 XuJiahui 徐家匯, 685, 686, 694 Xu Jifang 徐紀芳, 170 Xun Yue 荀悅, 404 Xunzi 荀子, 7, 23, 110, 120–125, 130, 267, 392, 396, 397, 398, 403, 675, 716, 848, 915 Xu Songshi 徐松石 (Princeton S. Hsü), 707–710, 728 Xu Sumin 許蘇民, 209 Xu Yuanpin 徐元聘, 40 Xu Yuqing 徐余慶, 170 Y Yamazaki Ansai 山崎闇斎, 764, 768–771 Yanagida Seizan 柳田聖山, 270 Yan Can 嚴粲, 95 yang 陽, 21, 22, 91, 151, 228, 249, 346, 616, 689, 690, 776, 792, 933 Yang Cho-hon 楊祖漢, 221 Yang Guishan 楊龜山, see Yang Shi 楊時

1002 Yang Jian 楊簡, 184, 188 Yang Rurbin 楊儒賓, 296, 588 Yang Shi 楊時, 19, 26, 28, 32, 161, 162, 171, 174, 268, 269, 270, 273, 336, 411, 473, 500, 974, 976 Yang Tingyun 楊廷筠, 787, 803 Yang Xiaomei, 904 Yang Xinzhai 楊信齋, 37 Yang Xiong 揚雄, 7, 23, 131–134, 138, 267 Yang Yan 楊炎, 178 Yang Youyi 楊由義, 17 Yang Zhiyi, 852 Yang Zhu 楊朱, 401, 748 Yan Yuan 顏元, 204, 205, 917 Yao Shu 姚樞, 197, 412, 779 Ye Weidao 葉味道, 37 Yi 易 (Book of Changes/Changes), 25, 36–37, 72, 73, 74, 75, 89, 132, 133, 155, 174, 186, 341, 353, 446, 484, 499, 547, 548, 582, 656, 658, 661, 662, 667, 668–675, 685, 688, 689, 709, 776, 838 yi 義 (righteousness, justice, just, integrity, what is right, appropriateness, sense of duty), 5, 8, 35, 81, 118, 137, 173, 181, 201, 213, 230, 236, 257, 260, 272, 280, 297, 303, 323, 329, 334, 373, 377, 467, 484, 488–493, 531, 583, 600, 602, 623, 675, 712, 755, 757, 821, 866, 865, 870, 907, 908, 910, 920, 921, 933, 935, 936, 943, 950–954, 956 yiben wanshu 一本萬殊 (one root with ten thousand manifestations), 301–305 See also li yi fen shu 理一分殊 Yichuan 伊川, see Cheng Yi 程頤 yi cheng 意誠 (intention-purified within morality), 231, 232, 316 See also cheng 誠 YichuanYizhuan 伊川易傳 (Cheng Yi’s Commentary on the Book of Change), 406 yi fa 已發 (already manifest, already-­ expressed state, expressed, aroused states, post-arise, the mind in active state), 27, 164, 173, 174, 272, 275, 306, 364, 371, 382, 383, 453, 453, 454, 457, 459, 461, 824, 941 See also wei fa 未發; yifa weifa 已發未發 yifa weifa 已發未發 (integration of movement and quiescence, the aroused and pre-aroused emotions), 332, 667 See also wei fa 未發; yi fa 已發 Yifa Weifa Shuo 已發未發說 (Treatise on the States of Mind before and after the Emotions Aroused), 332, 333

Index Yi Hwang 李滉, 747, 749 Yi I 李珥, 749, 752 Yi Ik 李瀷, 800 Yijing 易經 (Book of Changes/Changes), see Yi 易 Yi Kan 李柬, 754, 755, 758 yili 義利 (morality and benefit), 637 Yili 儀禮 (Book of Etiquette and Ceremonial, Ceremony and Ritual, Ceremonial Rites, Text of Rituals), 38, 90, 526, 527, 695 yili zhi xing 義理之性 (rationalizing moral nature), 119, 204, 211 See also xing 性 yi li zhun ze 義理準則 (righteous principles and standard norms), 266, 271, 273, 274 yin 陰, 21, 22, 91, 151, 228, 249, 346, 616, 667, 689, 690, 776, 792, 933 Yin Chun 尹焞, 852 yin si 淫祀 (wanton sacrifice), 537 yin yang 陰陽, 131, 135, 153, 205, 335, 347, 544, 548, 560, 562, 566–568, 575, 577, 581, 614, 618, 620, 658, 888 Yishu 遺書 (Posthumous Works of the Two Chengs/Bequeathed Writings), 64, 336, 530 Yixue Qimeng 易學啟蒙 (A Beginner’s Guide to the Book of Changes, Introduction to the Study of the Changes for Beginners), 16, 36, 93, 559, 560, 658 Yi Zhuan 易傳 (Commentary on the Book of Changes), 93, 153, 332, 406, 530, 575 yong 用 (functions), 209, 243, 249, 272, 296, 330, 454, 469, 484, 694, 714, 721, 743, 797, 865, 867, 884, 888 you 有 (being), 249, 694, 721 you wu you ze 有物有則 (if a thing exists, its pertinent principle also exists), 274 You Zuo 游酢, 268 yu 欲 (desires), 137, 198, 213, 373 See also siyu 私欲; siyi 私意 Yuanheng Lizhen Shuo 元亨利貞說 (Treatise on Origination Flourish Advantage and Firmness), 333, 334 Yuanxing 原性 (Exploring the Foundation of Human Nature), 137, 507 Yuelu Academy, 33, 169, 172, 174 Yu Hunan Zhugong Lun Zhonghe Diyishu 與湖南諸公論中和第一書 (First Letter to the Gentlemen of Hunan on Equilibrium and Harmony), 163, 332, 333 Yu Jiyuan, 931 Yulgok 栗谷, see Yi I 李珥

Index yun dong 運動 (to move), 56, 84, 252, 273, 308, 455, 563, 745, 752, 823, 837, 838, 943 Yun Hyu 尹鑴, 754 Yu Yingshi 余英時, 170, 182, 187, 293, 500, 503, 510, 588 Z zao hua zhi ji 造化之迹 (traces of creative transformation), 530, 531 zen 禪, 99, 185, 651, 748 See also Chan Buddhism Zenker, Ernst Viktor, 704 zhai 齋 (presacrificial vigils), 528 Zhang Dainian 張岱年, 121, 705, 858 Zhang Erping 張二平, 121 Zhang Heng 張衡, 616, 617 Zhang Jiucheng 張九成, 175, 176, 185, 188, 381 Zhang Jun 張浚, 172 Zhang Juzheng 張居正, 683 Zhang Liwen 張立文, 21, 26, 170, 245, 250, 256, 276 Zhang Nanxuan 張南軒, see Zhang Shi 張栻 Zhang Qinfu 張欽夫, see Zhang Shi 張栻 Zhang Qingjiang 張清江, 528 Zhang Rulan 張汝倫, 182 Zhang Shi 張栻, 7, 25–29, 32–33, 35, 161, 169–189, 379, 453, 454, 500, 941 Zhang Zai 張載, 3, 5–7, 18, 19, 22–24, 31, 32, 74, 89, 100, 146, 148, 154–161, 163, 166, 175, 179, 207, 208, 266, 271, 276, 279, 282, 284, 331, 345, 352, 368–370, 381, 390, 405–407, 409–416, 418, 420, 426, 435, 436, 466, 487, 492, 549, 569, 570, 575, 578, 584, 587, 616, 617, 645, 675, 709, 719, 774, 861, 888, 913, 934, 935, 945 Zhangziquanshu 張子全書 (Complete Works of Zhang Zai), 405 Zhangzi Taiji Jie yi 張子太極解意 (Master Zhang’s Explanation of the Supreme Ultimate’s Meaning), 175 Zhao Fu 趙復, 197, 399 Zhao Qi 趙岐, 516, 518, 519, 687, 697 Zhao Xinchen 召信臣, 399 Zhen Dexiu 真德秀, 197, 749 zheng 正 (propriety), 5, 8, 75, 81, 85, 125, 137, 173, 184, 252–258, 272, 281, 295, 329, 333, 337, 338, 376, 377, 397, 405, 452, 456, 583, 623, 701, 725, 755, 778, 821–823, 828, 843, 865, 866, 870, 907,

1003 908, 910, 920, 921, 934, 939, 943, 944, 946, 949, 952, 955, 956 Zheng Boxiong 鄭伯熊, 25 zhengda benzi (grand narrative, ideal type), 181 zheng jing 正敬 (proper reverence), 709 See also jing 敬 Zhengmeng 正蒙 (Awakening the Dim and Obscure, Correcting Youthful Ignorance), 207, 410, 413, 549, 575, 584 Zhenguang zazhi, 708 zhengxin 正心 (rectify the heart-mind), 290, 298, 446, 450, 723 Zheng Xuan 鄭玄, 146, 291–293, 501, 511, 512, 516, 687 zhengyi mengweipai 正一盟威派 (Sect of the Covenant with the Powers of the Orthodox Unity, Tianshipai 天師派 the Celestial Master Sect), 651 zhen zhi 真知 (genuine knowledge, true knowing, philosophically rational understanding of morality, profound cognitive apprehension), 226, 296, 301, 309, 314, 439, 513, 913, 949 See also zhi 知 zhi 智 (Wisdom;conscience; perception), 8, 81, 118, 137, 303, 329, 490, 600, 602, 821, 846, 866, 907, 943 zhi 知 (knowledge, understanding), 64, 232, 439, 530, 912 See also dexing zhizhi 德性之知; wenjian zhizhi 聞見之知; zhizhi 知至; tizhi 體 知; zhenzhi 真知 zhi 質 (material, substrate, substance), 111, 352, 368, 744 zhi jue 知覺 (to perceive), 26, 273, 486, 584, 802, 942, 956 See also jue 覺 zhi xing he yi 知行合一 (the unity of knowing and doing), 201, 202 See also xian zhi hou xing 先知後行 Zhiyan 知言 (Understanding of Words), 171 zhi zhi 知至 (being at the ultimate level of practical understanding of morality), 232 See also zhi 知 zhizhi 致知 (extending knowledge, extending understanding, extension of knowledge), 4, 6, 30, 64, 163, 202, 228, 298, 447, 912 zhong 中 (reaching balance, center, tranquil, in equilibrium), 27, 63, 84, 116, 279, 453, 941

1004 zhong 忠 (loyalty, exerting oneself, doing one’s utmost), 304, 309, 314, 763, 776, 908 zhong he 中和 (equilibrium and harmony, hitting the mark and achieving harmony), 26–28, 332, 667, 909 Zhong he jiu shuo 中和舊說 (Old Views of Equilibrium and Harmony), 174 Zhonghe Xinshuo 中和新說 (New Theory of Equilibrium and Harmony; New Doctrine on Equilibrium and Harmony), 333, 884, 909 zhongjie 中節 (moderation), 866 zhong li 眾理 (multiplicity of principle), 275 zhong shu 忠恕 (loyalty or real and extending or reciprocity), 304, 309 Zhongyong 中庸 (Centrality and Commonality, The Middle and the Means, Doctrine of the Mean), 25, 61, 104, 115, 146, 165, 174, 209, 289, 323, 333, 446, 479, 569, 682, 684, 755, 765, 788, 860 Zhongyong zhangju 中庸章句 (The Zhongyong in Chapter and Verse, Verses and Sentences of the Doctrine of the Mean), 30, 63, 147, 452, 474, 475, 479, 480, 484–486, 489, 491–493, 799 Zhongyong Zhangju Xu 中庸章句序 (Preface to the Commentary on Zhongyong), 147, 158 Zhou Dunyi 周敦頤, 2, 5, 7, 19-24, 31, 32, 74, 85, 145–148, 150–154, 156–161, 166, 175, 176, 186, 187, 205, 206, 248, 253, 254, 256, 265, 279, 280, 284, 331, 335, 340, 341, 353, 369, 373, 374, 377, 406, 466, 526, 569, 573, 574, 627, 658, 659, 660, 665, 666, 668, 709, 719, 774 Zhouli 周禮 (Rites of Zhou), 18, 90, 100, 103, 178, 526, 552, 686 Zhou Lianxi 周濂溪, see Zhou Dunyi 周敦頤 Zhouyi 周易 (Book of Changes/Changes), see Yi 易 Zhouyi Benyi 周易本義 (The Literal Meaning of the Book of Changes), 16, 36, 93, 332, 406, 560, 658 Zhouyi Cantongqi周易參同契 (Seal of the Unity of the Three in the Zhou Book of Changes), 649, 656, 668, 669 Zhouyi Chengshi zhuan 周易程氏傳 (Commentary of Master Cheng of the Zhou Changes), 89, 337, 338 Zhouyi Tu 周易圖 (The Chart of the Zhuo Changes), 660

Index zhu 主 (spirit tablet, focal point), 281, 475, 533, 537 Zhuangzi 莊子, 1, 59, 100, 371, 374, 412, 413, 467, 577, 651–654, 656, 662, 670, 673, 955–957 Zhu Hanmin 朱漢民, 170, 449 Zhu jing 主敬 (holding reverent attention), 454, 459 zhuli主理 (priority in reflecting on moral principle(s)), 222, 229, 234 Zhu’s Historical World 朱熹的歷史世界, 503, 588 See also The Historical World of Zhu Xi 朱熹的歷史世界 Zhu Song 朱松, 15–18 Zhu wen 祝文 (prayer invocations), 534 Zhuwengong Wenji 朱文公文集 (Collection of Literary Works by Master Zhu), 16, 465, 466, 477, 478, 481, 543, 671, 767 Zhu zai 主宰 (master, moral will, minister, Lord and Master), 122, 271, 272, 274, 412, 726, 909, 933, 936 Zhu Zhen 朱震, 20, 186 Zhuxi Xingzhuang 朱熹行狀 (Zhu Xi’s posthumous biographical elegy), 534 Zhuzi Daquan 朱子大全 (Master Zhu’s Complete Works), 534, 747 Zhuzi Jiali 朱子家禮 (Family Rituals, Master Zhu’s Family Rituals), 37, 102, 104, 465, 466, 526, 527, 538, 543, 671, 741, 765, 842 Zhuzi Nianpu 朱子年譜 (A Chronological Record of the Life of Zhu Xi, Chronicle of Master Zhu, Zhu Xi’s Chronological Curriculum Vitae), 98, 204, 406 Zhuzi Wannian Dinglun 朱子晚年定論 (Master Zhu’s Final Conclusions Arrived at Late in Life), 203, 204, 455 Zhuzi Wenji 朱子文集(Collected Works of Zhuxi), 613, 634 Zhuzi Yulei 朱子語類 (Classified Conversation with Master Zhu, Classified Conversations, Conversations with Master Zhu Thematically Arranged, Conversations of Master Zhu Typically Organized, Sayings and Conversations of Zhu Xi Topically Arranged, Categorized Sayings of Master Zhu), 16, 33, 43, 53, 72, 75, 91–93, 95, 96, 98, 99, 101, 114, 150, 330, 336, 406,

Index 451, 456, 466, 485, 526, 529, 543, 558, 614, 719, 725, 743, 832, 905, 968, 974 Zilu 子路, 317, 529, 780, 869 Ziporyn, Brook, 123, 245, 366, 367, 623, 933 ziran shenxue 自然神學 (natural theology), 714 ziran zhexue 自學哲學 (natural philosophy), 10, 524, 528, 543–570, 613–615, 712, 714, 786, 789–792, 794, 795 zishenji 自身己 (self-being), 634, 636 zi zhi (qualities 資質), 44, 79, 145, 229, 245, 247, 248, 270, 271, 276, 278, 281, 337, 347, 413, 415–417, 420, 421, 423, 467, 478, 491, 515, 530, 531, 562–565, 687, 789, 792, 825–828, 866, 916–918

1005 Zizhi Tongjian 資治通鑑 (Penetrating Mirror for the Aid in Government), 101, 102, 105 Zottoli, Angelo, 683, 685, 686, 694, 715 zun de xing 尊德性 (honoring the moral nature), 34, 185 zuo yong ji xing 作用卽性 (function is nature), 268–270, 273–275 Zuozhuan 左傳 (Master Zuo’s Commentary, Zuo’s Commentary on the Spring and Autumn Annals, Commentary of Zuo [Qiuming]/Zuo Commentary), 99, 177, 391, 392, 396–398, 552