|
(paper) Confucianism and Daoism: On the relationship between the Analects, Laozi, and Zhuangzi, Part II(2020)
- Paul J. D'Ambrosio
1. POLITICS, NONACTION, AND VIRTUOSITY
2. MORALITY, VIRTUES, “HUMAN NATURE”
3. DAO
4. CONCLUSION
REFERENCES
FURTHER READING
----------------------------
----------------------------
Confucianism and Daoism: On the relationship
between the Analects, Laozi, and Zhuangzi, Part II(2020)
Paul J. D'Ambrosio
Abstract
This article is a continuation of Part I, which looked at the
relationship between Confucianism and Daoism by first
introducing general approaches, before moving on to (1)
perspectives on names and actualities; (2) cultivation,
learning, the natural; and (3) conceptions of the person.
Continuing with the theme‐based comparison of Confucianism
and Daoism by looking specifically at the Lunyu 論
語(Analects of Confucius), Daodejing 道德經(Classic of the
Way and Virtuosity) or Laozi 老子(Book of Master Lao),
and the Zhuangzi 莊子(Book of Master Zhuang), this article
looks at (1) politics, nonaction (wuwei 無為), and virtuosity
(de 德); (2) morality, virtues, and human nature (xing 性);
and finally (3) Dao 道, or “the way.” It references Part I, and
while it can be read independently, it is best taken as a
continuation of Part I. The conclusion included herein
summarizes both Part II and Part I.
1 | POLITICS, NONACTION, AND VIRTUOSITY
In the political realm, we find, once again, relatively clear communication between the Lunyu and Laozi, followed by
an outlying response from the Zhuangzi. Like most pre‐Qin texts, “order (zhi 治)” and “chaos (luan 亂)” function as
the foundational conceptual structure for the Lunyu and Laozi, and yet the Zhuangzi hardly mentions them.
Nonaction (wuwei 無為) and virtuosity (de 德) can be better used as an axis to summarize the debate between these
texts.
In the Lunyu, “virtuosity” is a type of “charismatic power” cultivated by the individual. It can attract and influence
others. On this basis, one has the authority to be a ruler. Conversely, if one has not cultivated their “virtuosity,”
they cannot be a legitimate ruler. Kongzi says the well‐cultivated ruler will be like the northern star, with
all others revolving around them (2.1). Ni Peimin summarizes the most common interpretation of this passage: “it
exemplifies the Confucian idea of wuwei 無為, action by nonaction, which is both similar to and different from the
Daoist idea of wuwei.” Ni continues: “While they both contain the meaning of nonaction, or action without coercion,
the Confucian teaching is more about setting an example of excellence for others to follow.” Here the political
scheme of the Lunyu comes into play: “Relating this point to Confucius' idea that society is an extension of the
family, one may draw lessons about governing from the experiences of parenting: the best way to educate children
is by being a good role model for them” (Ni, 2017, p. 94).
Acquiring virtuosity, as with any good political practice, begins with self‐cultivation at home. Quoting from the
Book of Documents Kongzi says (2.21): “Filial, simply being filial, and befriending your brothers, the influence will
extend to the government” (Ni, 2017, p. 110). Starting with being a good child, one extends that to being a good
sibling, cousin, niece or nephew, neighbor, worker, and so on. Not only is this already the work of politics, but it is
also already the beginning of attracting others (4.25). Kongzi says (12.19) “The virtuosity of the exemplary persons
is the wind, while that of the petty person is the grass. As the wind blows, the grass is sure to bend” (Ames &
Rosemont, 1998, p. 158; translation modified). Again, there are moral and political undertones here that speak to
the exemplary person gaining their legitimacy through manifesting well‐cultivated virtuosity. The main purpose of
the ruler and government in general is to influence the people in a moral way.
Ritual practices are another important element of political theory in the Lunyu, and perfectly exemplify the goal
of morally influencing people. They allow for the people to become good citizens in a “nonaction” manner. Section
2.3 records:
Kongzi said: Lead the people with administrative injunctions and keep them orderly with penal law,
and they will avoid punishments but will be without a sense of shame. Lead them with excellence and
keep them orderly through observing ritual propriety and they will develop a sense of shame, and
moreover, will order themselves (Ames & Rosemont, 1998, 76; translation modified).
Rituals and music prevail when the government is practicing the way (you dao 有道). Under these conditions
people may seek profits (8.13, 14.1). When the state does not practice the way, a person can be stupid or hidden
(5.21, 8.13, 15.7).
The guiding image for political rulership in the Laozi is neither a shining light nor a strong wind—it is the empty
hub of a wheel (11). The people are spokes. They are able to have specific tasks and carry out the function of the
wheel (or society) only because the center is empty and does nothing. The people revolve around the ruler, but they
are not influenced in the same way we find in the Lunyu. Relatedly, the ruler does not derive their political authority
from their own virtuosity. Instead, the Laozi seems to speak to someone who already happens to find themselves in
a leadership role and is not overly concerned issues of legitimacy. The advice is given to help one be a better ruler;
whether or not one has the right to ruler is never directly taken up.
True to the difference between cultivation of increase and decrease, the virtuosity of the Laoziian ruler comes
from being simple and genuine. The ruler's simplicity and genuineness is then supposed to allow people to free
themselves from attachments to excessive desires or ambition. Unlike the Lunyu, where the emphasis is on what the
ruler does or how the people grow morally (which provides legitimacy), much of the political language of the Laozi
revolves around negation. Chapter 57 records:
I do not act, and the people self‐transform (自化); I delight in tranquility, and the self‐correct; I do not
undertake anything, and the people self‐thrive; I am without desires, and the people self‐simplify
(Chen, 2020, p. 316; translation modified).
People become correct, thrive, and simplify not because they model themselves after the ruler's virtuosity—the
ruler is no role model—but because the ruler does not impose anything on the people. This is what allows them able
to return to a more natural or “self‐so” state. Through lessening, through the ruler's nonaction and being empty, the
state can, in a self‐so manner, return to the way. The nonaction practiced by the ruler of the Laozi is more passive
than that described in the Lunyu. “Nonaction” also carries much more weight in the Laozi. Many scholars have
summarized its political position quoting from Chapters 37 and 48: “Practice nonaction and nothing will be left
undone.”1
In the Lunyu 15.5 we find “Kongzi said, ‘Governing through nonaction, is Shun not an example? What did he do?
He sat reverently facing South and that is all’”. The idea behind this puzzling line, as Fu Peirong explains, is that
Shun cultivated himself and knew how to put people in the appropriate positions depending on their skills. This
requires a high level of cultivated virtuosity and serious responsibility (Fu, 2012, p. 230). The “nonaction” speaks
more to the influence Shun had than his actual behavior. Nonaction in the Laozi is also something that requires
cultivated, but, perhaps somewhat unexpectedly, through decreasing one's commitments to social conventions, and
it manifests itself as unassertive. The ruler of the Laozi does not know how to use people most effectively, they
rather allow people to do whatever is needed. The assumption is that by making this empty space people will
become effective and the state will run well.
In a broad sense, the Lunyu and Laozi overlap in identifying self‐cultivation and a natural influence on others as
key components. Commenting on Laozi 54, Chen Guying writes:
“Cultivating oneself” is like solidifying the basis, it is the starting point both for establishing oneself as
well as bringing order to the world. Laozi further emphasizes the importance of cultivating virtuosity
in the whole spectrum extending from the limited sphere of self‐cultivation to the broader field of
governing the state (Chen, 2020, p. 306)
This could equally describe the Lunyu—however, there are major differences in terms of the kind of cultivation
envisioned and the way influence operates. Laozi 38 begins:
Higher virtuosity is not virtuosity, therefore it is virtuosity; lower virtuosity does not let go of virtuosity,
therefore it is not virtuosity. Higher virtuosity is nonaction and thereby does not depend on
action.
The influence of “not virtuosity” virtuosity is, as mentioned above, a way of allowing people to return to a
simpler state.
The Zhuangzi is often thought of as an apolitical text. Li Zehou writes: “Zhuangzi continued to develop the social
[and political] ideals [mentioned above], but did not develop a political philosophy” (Li, 2019, p. 90). Hans‐Georg
Moeller similarly comments, “In the Zhuangzi, political issues are, for the most part, regarded as something quite
unimportant” (Moeller, 2004, p. 67). Those who read the Zhuangzi in this way often refer to the following story as
emblematic:
Zhuangzi was once fishing beside the Pu River when two emissaries brought him a message from the
King of Chu: “The King would like to trouble you with the control of all his realm.” Zhuangzi, holding
fast to his fishing pole, without so much as turning his head, said, “I have heard there is a sacred turtle
in Chu, already dead for three thousand years, which the king keeps in a bamboo chest high in his
shrine. Do you think this turtle would prefer to be dead and having his carcass exalted or alive and
dragging his backside through the mud?” The emissaries said, “Alive and dragging his backside
through the mud.” Zhuangzi said, “Get out of here! I too will drag my backside through the mud!”
(Ziporyn, 2009, 75).
If we take this tale to be representative of the political position in the Zhuangzi, then there is not much
comparison to be made between it and the Lunyu and Laozi. But other scholars do find the Zhuangzi to be just as
political as the Lunyu and Laozi.
The first major, and to date most influential, commentator of the Zhuangzi is Guo Xiang, who develops a robust
political theory woven from ideas taken from the Zhuangzi, Laozi, and Lunyu. In his commentary to the Zhuangzi, Guo
makes reference to two important phrases in order to expound on the political messages he finds. The first, which
has been very popular in later Confucian texts, is “inner sage outer king.” This phrase, which first appears in the
Zhuangzi (33.1), was used by Guo to explain a ruler who is cultivated like the sage of the Laozi, but behaves more
like the ruler of the Lunyu. Someone who has returned to simplicity and genuineness, but is more active in assigning
people positions and appearing as a role model. The second phrase, “wander in the external and vanish internally,”
allows for one to engage in political projects without having their own pre‐determined agendas, a role‐based sense
of self, or strong emotions.
Guo's explanation depicts a second political position found in the Zhuangzi, especially prevalent in Chapter 4:
namely, when one is more or less forced into government affairs, they need not shun them, but nor should they
become overly obsessed with them either. The nonpolitical reading suggests that the Zhuangzi prefers dragging
one's backside in the mud, but this is not always an option. So, becoming an “inner sage, outer king” might be one's
(next) best choice.
A third reading suggested by, for example, Wang Bo 王博, sees the Zhuangzi as thoroughly political. Its position
is best exemplified as an “inner sage, outer king,” but not just because one gets backed into a corner. The authors of
the Zhuangzi were very much concerned with politics. Yet they were also open to nonpolitical life, as well as various
nonconventional ways of being political. This includes what Guo Xiang calls, “wander in the external and vanish
internally.”
There are thus three major ways to read the political thought in the Zhuangzi. Firstly, it basically does not exist,
which eschews any real relationship to the Lunyu and Laozi. Secondly, advice is given for those who must be
politically engaged, or thirdly the texts is just as politically minded as the Lunyu or Laozi. From any perspective, the
idea of political legitimacy is simply something the Zhuangzi does not address
2 | MORALITY, VIRTUES, “HUMAN NATURE”
On all accounts, including the texts themselves and their relationships to one another, “morality”1 is the most
frequently explored, complex, and contested topic. Despite any ostensibly strong differences—which can just as
easily be taken as merely superficial—these three texts share an underlying similarity.
In all three, one finds the outlook that humans “naturally” tend towards the type of person each text
respectively considers desirable. Xing 性(natural disposition or inclination) is not often used to indicate this quality
in persons, although later followers would rely heavily on this term. In the case of the Lunyu, the Mengzi develops a
robust theory of “human nature” or “natural human dispositions (ren xing 人性)” as morally good, but in need of
cultivation. A number of later scholars take the account given in the Mengzi to be an accurate elucidation of the
Lunyu. The two most famous commentators on the Laozi and Zhuangzi, namely Wang Bi and Guo Xiang, also
emphasize xing in their readings of those texts. For these thinkers, xing does not need to be cultivated but returned
to. One should, to use a term they both employ, “let themselves go by their natural dispositions (ren xing 任性).”
From this perspective, there is a general similarity between the three texts in that they argue being in accord to
one's natural dispositions is desirable or even “ideal.” When the concept of “morality” is introduced, potential
differences arise. On the most basic level, while the Lunyu argues for being morally “good,” the Laozi and Zhuangzi
simply endorse being “okay” or “nice” (shan 善, in certain uses of the term),2 for lack of a better term. In other words,
these two texts do not proffer thick or systematic theories about what is “good,” or “what is the right way to
live.”Some scholars in contemporary discourse, however, argue that “nonaction,” “self‐so,” or “genuineness (zhen
真)” constitute a kind of “Daoist ethics” or morality (Huang, 2010; Fraser, in press).
Recent years have also seen a spirited (primarily in the English‐speaking world) controversy over the classification
of Confucian ethics. The Lunyu, often at the center of this debate, is taken to advocate either a version of
“virtue ethics” or “role ethics.” Despite their myriad differences both sides do agree on the importance of both
virtues and roles. Individual virtues only make sense in connection to roles, and roles are only properly lived when
they express their virtues.2
As dependent on both cultivation and roles, the Lunyu is most concerned with the “root” or starting point of
becoming a moral person. Virtues are interdependent. Certainly some version of ren 仁or “humaneness” is paramount,
but the foundations are crucial. In the Lunyu (1.2), excellence in the most immediate family relations is
identified as the source of both moral cultivation and political order:
Master You said, There are few who, being filial (xiao 孝) and fraternal (di 弟), are fond of offending
their superiors. There has been none, who, not liking to offend against his superiors, has been fond of
stirring up chaos. Exemplary persons cultivate the root, for having the root established, the Way [dao
道] will grow. Filial piety and fraternal love—they are the root of human‐heartedness (ren 仁), are they
not? (Ni, 2017, p. 81)
Filial piety (xiao 孝) is the care one expresses toward their parents. The Lunyu identifies certain acts as filial,
such as following one's father's way (1.11, 2.5, 4.20). The most important aspect of filial piety, however, is the
attitude—often linked to respect (gong 恭)—that one has for their parents (2.7, 2.8). This has led many to conclude
that specific behaviors are not nearly as important as having the right attitude (e.g., Fei, 1992). In addition to feeling
“respect (gong 恭)” one should develop “familial closeness (qin 親).” Behaving according to these emotions means
cultivating oneself properly in the family, being both “filial (xiao 孝)” and “fraternal (di 弟).”
The same can be said for all the virtues discussed in the Lunyu—and especially rituals (li 禮), which changed
radically throughout the centuries. Though mourning periods decreased and sacrifices and ceremonies transformed
completely, the “constant thread” running throughout them has been the associated attitude. In this sense, feelings
are most important. For example, the Lunyu (3.12) records: “Sacrificing as if present. When sacrificing to the spirits,
do it as if the spirits were present” (Ni, 2017, p. 121). In other words, even heavily modified rituals can carry the
same attitude, and that is what really matters. Relying on the cultivation of one's attitude, one can be appropriate
even in situations they have never encountered.
The moral project expressed in this text is extremely context dependent. Kongzi often answers students
differently depending on who they are or what the nature of their particular situation is (e.g., 6.22, 6.26, 6.30, 12.1).
He says that there is a single thread connecting his thoughts (4.15), and this allows him to determine approximate
appropriateness—which at times includes exceeding the very lines of propriety he provides (11.10). In the quote
from Master You above, we get the idea that living one's roles well at home is the beginning of all morality. It is the
root not only of the way and humaneness, but political stability as well.
As one ventures outside the bounds of home life other virtues become important but being a good child and
family member remains the guiding model and a constant reference point for determining appropriateness. Some of
the virtues that help guide one toward living well in broader relationships include: yi 義, meaning appropriateness,
rightness, or duty; zhong 忠, or wholehearted devotion, which is often used to describe the (critical) loyalty one
should have to superiors; xin 信, often described with a breakdown of the two parts that comprise the character,
“human (ren 人)” and “language (yan 言)”—so xin is commonly translated as “trustworthy” or “standing by one's
word.” Importantly, like all the virtues and the conception of the “human (ren 人),” being trustworthy here refers to
aligning oneself with what is moral, and not necessarily “true” (5.21, 14.15, 17.20). Zhi 直, or being “upright” is
subject to the same thinking. It is more about doing what is right than it is about doing what might be required by
the law or even social norms (13.18). Another related virtue is du 篤, often translated as “honest” or “sincere.” The
character shu 恕is comprised of ru 如(“compare” or “like/resembling”) and xin 心(“heart‐mind”), and can be taken
as “comparing one's own heart with other hearts with compassion” (Ni, 2017, p. 67). Zhi 知, often interchangeable
with zhi 智, means knowing, being aware of, understanding, or being wise. It is about knowing how to practice what
one has learned; that is, knowing how to weigh situations with due discretion (quan 權) so as to figure out what is
appropriate. Being shen 慎(prudent, cautious, or careful, especially with respect to one's speech) while simultaneously
displaying courage or even daring (yong 勇) (2.24) are also marks of living properly. The ultimate goal is to
become ren 仁(humane). To be fully human, or 人, also pronounced ren, is a moral and not a biological category—ren
仁(humane) and ren 人(human) are often used interchangeably. Ren 仁, like all virtues, is defined differently for
different students, and is used in different contexts throughout the Lunyu. On the most basic level, it seems to be
related to loving others (12.22). Kongzi says he does not know anyone who was fully ren 仁(humane), and so many
take him to use it as an ideal.
The virtues discussed above are subject to a discourse filled with illustrative language sometimes connected to
archery. Kongzi refers to being appropriate, properly living one's role, or expressing a virtue as “hitting the mark
(zhong 中)” (11.14, 11.19, 13.3, 13.21). This can also be the height of virtuosity (de 德) (6.29). Many people fail
because they cannot reach the mark (bu ji 不及) (11.16, 14.17, 16.6); perhaps because they simply do not try hard
enough (5.27, 6.12, 17.21) or their actions are “excessive (guo 過)” (2.8, 4.7, 11.16). While the Laozi and Zhuangzi find
excessively assertive action (youwei 有為) problematic, the Lunyu goes so far as to say one should sacrifice their life
for humaneness (15.9). However, their real difference with the Lunyu in terms of ethics begins already in
relationships.
The Laozi says little about relationships outside of ruler‐subject relations. It does come down quite harshly on
the language of virtues, if not virtues themselves. Only a few chapters speak directly to the virtues encountered in
the Lunyu. Chapter 5, for example, says that the heavens and Earth are not ren 仁(humane). Anything can be
revered at one moment, only to be subject to disaster at the next. The ruler should likewise not be ren and instead
deal with the people in a manner similar to the heavens and Earth. Chapter 18 continues this line of thinking,
proposing that:
When the great way (dao 道) is abandoned, there is humaneness (ren) and appropriateness (yi 义) (1).
When three family relations and six roles lack harmony, there is filial piety and parental care. When
the state and families are thrown into confusion, then loyal (zhong 忠) servants arise (Chen, 2020,
p. 139; translation modified).
Chapter 19 continues in the same vein, asking to give up zhi 智(wisdom, knowledge), debate, and falsity. The
people will then return, the Laozi says, to filial piety and caring for children (ci 慈). It warns that using wisdom and
debate, falsity and swindling, ingenuity and profit for adornment (wen 文) is “not enough (bu zu 不足).” It is better to
“observe simplicity and embrace the plain and unadorned, and to be less concerned with oneself and minimize
desires.”
The most robust response to the virtues highlighted in the Lunyu comes from Chapter 38:
Higher virtue (shang de 上德) is not virtue (de 德), therefore it has virtue; lower virtue does not let go
of virtue, therefore it has no virtue.
Higher virtue does not act (wu wei 无为) and thereby not depend on action; lower virtue does not act
and thereby depends on action.
Higher humaneness (ren 仁) acts for it and does not depend on action, higher duty/appopriateness
(yi 义) acts for it and depends on action.
Higher ritual acts for it and there is no response, so sleeves are rolled up and things are cast aside.
Therefore, when the Dao is lost then there is virtue, when virtue is lost then there is humaneness,
when humaneness is lost then there is duty, when duty is lost then there is ritual.
As for ritual, it is the thinness and weakness of loyalty and trustworthiness are, and the head of
disorder.
The various presupposed regulations are nothing but vainness and emptiness [associated with the
degradation of] the Dao, and beginning of ignorance. Therefore the great person resides in the thick,
and does not reside with the thin; resides in the actual, and does not resides in flowery. Thereby, cast
off what is thin and vain, and adopt what is thick and honest (Chen, 2020, p. 234; translation
modified).
Chen Guying summarizes the argument of this chapter in words that are applicable to the entire Laozi and can
be taken as a general reflection on the relationship between the Laozi and Lunyu:
The motivation behind this chapter's argument is actually the feeling of continued externalization of
interpersonal relationships, as well as the gradual disappearance of the spirit of spontaneous autonomy,
which leaves only norms that fix thought and action in rigid structures… During Laozi's time,
rituals had already become red tape, detaining people's hearts and minds, while at the same time
being hijacked by those struggling for power. Rituals were tools for usurping reputation, position, and
status. So Laozi criticizes rituals for being “the thinness of loyalty and trustworthiness, and the head
of disorder.” On the one hand, Laozi criticizes rituals for shackling natural human dispositions, while
on the other hand Laozi desires the realm of the Dao—the realm of gleaming with naturalness and
spontaneity and without external restrictions (Chen, 2020, p. 241).
There are, as Chen allows for, two ways to view the relationship between the Laozi and Lunyu in terms of
morality. Some have argued that the Laozi is criticizing either the Lunyu or the virtues taken up by the Lunyu as
symptoms of an already desperate situation. The Laozi then provides a preventative prescription in “observing
simplicity and embracing the plain and unadorned.” It is an amoral solution to social disorder. The plain and simple
do not constitute a separate competing moral code or system of norms, but merely a returning to what is already
there. When people are relatively unassertive (wuwei 無為), in the state before rigid ideas used to influence action
and expectations become the backdrop for intentions, things function relatively well. Everything is basically “okay.”
The term “good” cannot be used, because as Chapter 2 tells us, once we have “good” we already designate “bad.”
Morality is thus the root of immorality. The best solution, then, is to get rid of both. Trying to use morality to cure
immorality turns into an endless arms race, each side feeding off of the other, each thinking themselves right and
others wrong.
The second type of interpretation maintains a nearly complete overlap between the Lunyu and Laozi in terms of
their moral projects. The Laozi is critical of the externalization, codification, or standardization of morality, but so
too is the Lunyu. Kongzi provides different examples and focuses on inner cultivation specifically, because there are
no precise standards to follow. Abstract rules only signal the collapse of morality (2.7, 17.13), or as Kongzi famously
says (18.8) “there is nothing I should do, and nothing I should not do (wu ke er wu bu ke 無可而無不可).” Being
genuine, simple, self‐so (ziran 自然), and practicing nonaction (wu wei 無為) in the Laozi actually represents exactly
what Kongzi in the Lunyu sought to explain as well.
Regardless of whether one sees the Lunyu and Laozi as similar here or different there, there is an undeniable
distinction in terms of the importance of wen 文or adornment, and zhi 質or substance. The Lunyu sees
them as intertwined (6.18, 12.8). The Laozi, however, is much less concerned with wen, which often manifests
through rituals. Neither ritual nor any other type of adornment are praised in the Laozi, whereas simplicity is
celebrated. Indeed, ritual is the point on which nearly every scholar agrees the Lunyu and Laozi diverge. The
Zhuangzi too, is incompatible with the Lunyu here, but the differences begin, once again, with more basic
elements.
The Zhuangzi also contests the importance of virtues, adding a penetrating criticism of cultivating and living
through roles and relationships. Like the Laozi, the Zhuangzi takes virtues as a sign of degradation. In direct
response to the Lunyu, we find, for example, that “(one who) has familial closeness (qin 親) is not humane (ren 仁)”
(6.1). The cardinal virtues of humaneness and appropriateness (yi 義) are taken as brands that mark a person while
simultaneously blinding them to the complexity of the world (2.11, 6.8). Echoing the Laozi almost character for
character, the Zhuangzi records “great humaneness is not humaneness (da ren bu ren 大仁不仁)” (2.10). Indeed,
humaneness, appropriateness, rituals, and music are best forgotten (6.9). These critical positions are subject to the
same interpretations as the Laozi. They can be taken either as criticisms of the Lunyu itself, or as attacks on the
institutionalization of the Lunyu. The latter interpretation actually opens them up to being quite similar to Kongzi's
own thought.
Perhaps the most palpable evidence for taking the Zhuangzi as developing on the moral ideas in the Lunyu
comes in Section 4.3:
There are two great constraints in this world. One is fate, one's mandated limitations, and the other is
responsibility/appropriateness (yi 義), doing what fits one's position. A child's love for his parents is
fate—it cannot be removed from his heart. An underling's service to a boss is responsibility….To be
reconciled to wherever you may have to go to serve your parents is perfect filial piety, and to be
reconciled to whatever may be involved in serving your boss is complete loyalty….Knowing them to
be something else you can do nothing about—that is the utmost virtuosity (de 德). (Ziporyn, 2009,
p. 28; translation modified).
Clearly the virtues are thickly tied to roles and relationships. The Zhuangzi questions not only the cultivation of
oneself according to them, but also their classifications. Like the Laozi, in the Zhuangzi we find the idea that things
will basically be “okay” as long as we do not add too many expectations. Responsibility/appropriateness (yi 義) and
love for parents already exist—and there is no reason to develop them further. Instead, we should let them be what
and as they are. Afterall, the mechanisms that allow someone to theorize a certain system as “good” could equally
be applied to a “bad” one.
In a somewhat cheeky manner, the Zhuangzi asks the famous Robber Zhi if “robbers also have a way (dao 道).”
Robber Zhi replies.
Where can one go without the right way? To guess where the treasure is hidden is Sagacity. To go in
first is Courage. To be the last to leave is Responsibility (yi 義). To judge whether a job can succeed or
not is Wisdom. To distribute the loot equally is Humaneness (ren 仁). No one can become a great
robber without these five virtues!” (Ziporyn, 2009, p. 63; translation modified).
But the most devastating critique of roles and relationships is the claim that one does not have to be fully
invested in them (4.3). The Zhuangzi also introduces an element of “play (you 遊)” to replace the commitment to and
cultivation of the roles and relationships demanded by the Lunyu (e.g., 1.5, 4.2, 4.3, 6.1).
In addition to commending nonaction and being self‐so, spontaneous, and natural, the Zhuangzi suggests
following “what is presently right (yin shi 因是)” (2.6) and “what is obvious (yi ming 以明)” (2.4). As a critique of the
Lunyu, these ideas point to the flaws and potential contradictions in trying to establish norms to live through.
Alternatively, read as a continuation of the thinking in the Lunyu, these ideas acknowledge that even Kongzi's
extremely context‐dependent, overtly anti‐rule approach could still be turned into an externalized, codified, and
institutionalized set of rigid norms.3 The Zhuangzi then takes Kongzi's thinking even further, refusing to even give
names to, or instances of, what might be considered moral. The same could be said for the Laozi with its emphasis
on the nameless—indeed, interpretations of the Lunyu, Laozi, or Laozi could possibly extend to the moral sphere
(discussed above), as Wang Bi would have it (cf. D'Ambrosio, 2019).
3 | DAO
Dao 道, commonly read as “way” or “the Way” is, as Henry Rosemont and Roger Ames write, “very probably the
single most important term in the philosophical lexicon, and in significant measure, to understand what and how a
thinker means when he uses dao is to understand that thinker's philosophy” (Ames & Rosemont, 1998, p. 45). The
different conceptions of dao in the Lunyu, Laozi, and Zhuangzi encapsulate almost everything discussed above. To
summarize dao, it can be that of a person, a craft, a culture, or a tradition related to the human realm in general, or
more generally to nature, the cosmos, or even—depending on one's reading—an ontological concept. The views on
dao in the Lunyu, Laozi, and Zhuangzi contain varying degrees of these meanings, generally (and in specific passages)
emphasizing one or another.
In the Lunyu, dao is, as has been mentioned in all the sections above, the way primarily of humans. One of the
best‐known lines of the Lunyu (15.29) makes this clear: “Humans can broaden dao, dao does not broaden humans.”
As a path or a way, dao can only be made and maintained by people's actual activity. This is true no matter what
scale is being discussed. For example, a localized sense of dao finds it in the way a father does something (1.11). A
more shared sense speaks of the way of archery, charioteering, or of ceremonies and rituals. There is also the way
of the past (3.16), or the way in a state or community (5.2, 14.1, 15.7). In all these cases, human participation is
absolutely essential. Even in the more cosmic sense of dao—for example, when the Lunyu speaks of dao in the world
(tianxia 天下)—it is decidedly related to human affairs: most commonly, politics. It is also used to denote “the way
things ought to be.” Dao in the Lunyu can thereby be used in a descriptive or evaluative sense. It is something that
people want to promote and to make prevail in the world.
The Laozi has two titles. The second, Daodejing 道德经or “Classic of the Way and Virtuosity,” reveals the
overt attention paid to dao in this text. In its received form, the text opens with, “the dao that can be spoken of
is not the constant dao.” This line is a wildly accurate summary of the text. Much of the Laozi is devoted to
describing this ineffable dao. There are two major methods whereby the text accomplishes this goal. Firstly, it
uses images, most famously the mother (or female), wheel, water, valley, child, and uncarved block, as hints for
understanding dao. Secondly, it relates certain attributes, which can be paradoxical or conflicting, to describe
dao. These include, but are certainly not limited to, the female, nonaction, ineffable, low, soft, nonstriving, and
useless.
Whereas the Lunyu discusses a dao made by humans, and therefore one that can be promoted or made to
prevail in the world, the dao of the Laozi is more naturalistic or cosmic. It is something that humans should follow or
model themselves on (25). Most commentators of the Laozi speak of being aligned with dao, or of being in harmony
with it—it is certainly not something humans create or maintain. Following Wang Bi, many also think that dao in the
Laozi connotes something metaphysical or ontological. For example, Chapter 42, which begins with “dao generates
oneness, oneness generates twoness, twoness generates threeness, threeness generates all things,” can be read as a
description of how the cosmos came to be. However, it can just as easily be read as speaking to more mundane
issues. Regardless of how one reads the dao of the Laozi, it is certainly not the anthropocentric dao of the Lunyu and,
conversely, cares little for humans.
The Zhuangzi straddles the Lunyu and Laozi. In the space of just a couple lines the human‐centric statement, “a
dao is formed by walking it” is followed by the more cosmic sentiment, “the dao goes through [the myriad differences]
to form a oneness” (2.6). There is a recognition that dao can be something formed through human activity,
but the Zhuangzi also echoes the Laozi in saying that dao is ineffable (2.8). This latter tendency is what allows later
commentators to speculate that the Zhuangzi develops the metaphysical or ontological dao of the Laozi. So, for
example, when the Zhuangzi wants to comment on Kongzi, it can speak of the world having or not having dao (4.8),
echoing perfectly phrases in the Lunyu. But the Zhuangzi can also speak of being aligned with the dao—speaking of it
as though it is something that cannot be brought about or maintained by humans. It is somehow separate, to be
emulated or connected with, but not created or maintained by human activity.
The term dao can be used in both the more specific and broader senses. As the way of a particular art or craft,
or as a more general and cosmic way. In the Zhuangzi these two meanings are intermingled. The text moves quickly
from one connotation to the other, or purposefully confuses the meanings (6.3, 6.4).
4 | CONCLUSION
The labels “Confucianism” and “Daoism” have existed in one form or another almost since the composition of the
Lunyu, Laozi, and Zhuangzi. Problematic as they may be for some academics, they are extremely useful in certain
arenas. This two‐part article has been an attempt to look at how some major themes in Chinese philosophical
thought have been discussed in the Lunyu, Laozi, and Zhuangzi. While by no means representative of “Confucianism”
and “Daoism”—and since everyone has their own definitions, there is no universally satisfying way to complete this
project—there are generalities drawn out here which can be useful for teaching or learning about these schools,
texts, or Chinese thought in general. The articles are meant to cover some of the broadest and most important
themes in ways that can help teachers and students alike understand the complexity of these relationships, their
richness, and the multiple avenues available for thinking about them.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I would like to thank Daniel Sarafinas for his help with this article. This work was supported by the Fundamental
Research Funds for the Central Universities (No.: 2018ECNU‐QKT010).
REFERENCES
Ames, R. T., & Rosemont, H., Jr (1998). The analects of Confucius: A philosophical translation. New York, NY: Random House.
Chen, G. 陳鼓. (2020). The annotated critical Laozi: With contemporary explication and traditional commentary, trans Paul J.
D'Ambrosio, Xiao Ouyang, Ady Van de Stock, et al. Boston, MA: Brill.
D'Ambrosio, P. (2019). Wang Bi's commentary on the Analects: A Confucian‐Daoist critique of effable morality. Philosophy
East and West, 62(2), 357–375.
Fei, X. 費孝. (1992). From the soil: The Foundations of Chinese society, trans. Gary Hamilton and Wang Zheng. Berkley, CA:
University of California Press.
Fraser, C. (in press). Skill and ethics in Zhuangzi. In T. Angier & L. Raphals (Eds.), Skill in ancient ethics. London, UK:
Bloomsbury.
Fu, P. 傅佩榮. (2012). Fu Peirong's Interpretation and Explanation of the Lunyu Lunyu Fu Peirong yi jie 論語傅佩榮譯解. Beijing北京, China: Oriental Publishing Center 東方出版中心.
Huang, Y. (2010). Respecting different ways of life: A Daoist ethics of virtue in the "Zhuangzi". The Journal of Asian Studies,
69(4), 1049–1069.
Li, Z. 李澤厚. (2019). A History of Classical Chinese Thought, trans. Andrew Lambert. New York: Routledge.
Moeller, H.‐G. (2004). Daoism explained: From the dream of the butterfly to the fishnet allegory. Chicago, IL: Open Court.
Ni, P. (2017). Understanding the analects of Confucius: A new translation of the Lunyu with annotations. Albany, NY: State
University of New York Press.FURTHER READING
Wang, B. 王博. (2014). Thinking Through the inner chapters, trans. Livia Kohn. St. Petersburg, FL: Three Pines Press.
Ziporyn, B. (2009). The essential writings with selections from traditional commentaries. Indianapolis, IN: Hackett.
Ziporyn, B. (2003). The penumbra unbound: The Neo‐aoist philosophy of guo Xiang. Albany, NY: State University of New YorkPress.
FURTHER READING
Ames, R., & Hall, D. (1998). Thinking from the Han: Self, truth and transcendence in Chinese and Western culture. Albany, NYState University of New York Press.Chan, W.‐T. (1969). A source book in Chinese philosophy. Pittsburgh, PA: Princeton University Press.Feng, Y. (1997). A short history of Chinese philosophy. Edited by Derk Bodde. New York, NY: The Free Press.Graham, A. C. (1989). Disputers of the Tao. Chicago, IL: Open Court.Lai, K. (2008). An introduction to Chinese philosophy. Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press.Puett, M., & Gross‐oh, C. (2016). The path: What Chinese philosophers can teach us about the good life. New York, NY: Simonand Schuster.Sterckx, R. (2019). Ways of heaven: An introduction to Chinese thought. New York, NY: Basic Books.
AUTHOR BIOGRAPHY
Paul J. D'Ambrosio is associate professor of Chinese philosophy at East China Normal University in Shanghai,
China, fellow of the Institute of Modern Chinese Thought and Culture, Dean of the Center for Intercultural
Research. He is the author of 真假之间(Kong Xuetang Press, 2019), co‐author (with Hans‐Georg Moeller) of
Profile Yourself (Columbia University Press, 2021) and Genuine Pretending (Columbia University Press, 2017),
editor (with Michael Sandel) of Encountering China (Harvard University Press, 2018). Additionally, he has
authored over 70 articles, chapters, and reviews, and is translator of over a dozen books on Chinese philosophy.