Introduction
The idea of the “self” is a key element of the “Inner Chapters” (neipian 內篇) of the Zhuangzi 莊子, and it has generated a great deal of debate in the secondary literature.Footnote 1 That debate has focused on questions such as, What is the relationship between the self and the Way? How should one approach the self within the context of the work's philosophical program? And, What is the ontological position of the self within the text's cosmology? In broad terms, many of the scholars within that debate can be divided into two camps: those who argue that the text advocates the idea of a “true self” and those who contend that it holds a “no self” position.
The tenacity of this debate is due, at least in part, to ambiguous passages in the text that can be read as supporting either of the above positions. For example, in the opening of the “Qiwulun” 齊物論, the character Nanguo Ziqi 南郭子綦 states: “I lost myself” (wu sang wo 吾喪我).Footnote 2 This enigmatic line has been used to support both “true self” and “no self” interpretations.
An especially nuanced example of the former interpretation is that of Edward Slingerland.Footnote 3 Slingerland argues that the line is a metaphorical description of how one must strip away “everything extraneous to the true self—from social values to personal greed.”Footnote 4 According to Slingerland, “purging … the false instantiations of the self” is what enables a person to uncover and manifest the natural “true self” that is consistently associated with Heaven.Footnote 5
For a fascinating example of the “no self” interpretation, we might turn to David Loy.Footnote 6 Loy argues that the line is one of many instances in the text that “emphasize or presuppose the need to get beyond the self” based on the Zhuangzi's underlying denial of “the ontological self.”Footnote 7 For Loy, the “ontological self” refers to an unchanging essence that defines an entity as a discrete thing. He suggests that a key part of the text's argument is the claim that humans possess a “sense-of-self” that they are driven to “stabilize” into a discrete identity that is separate from the fluctuations of the cosmos. Sadly, that need “can never be fulfilled” because “the self is indeed illusory.” Therefore, the proper action of human beings is to rid themselves of the illusion of self altogether.Footnote 8
Despite the differences between Slingerland and Loy's positions, they both rely on the shared claim that the text presents the “Way” (dao 道) as a source of normative guidance, either because it refers to the natural world, to objective reality, or to both.
Thus, Slingerland argues that the “true self” possesses a “normative quality” because of its “connection to the Heaven and the Way.”Footnote 9 Defining the Way as the natural, “patterned relationship” between “things-in-themselves,” Slingerland argues that eliminating false elements of the self is what enables the natural “true self” to “reestablish contact” with that “normative order” (the Way or Heaven) and “thereby escape fallenness and move smoothly through the world.”Footnote 10 In doing so, one is able to “follow along with the natural tendencies of things” in a “state of complete ease and unself-consciousness.”Footnote 11
Similarly, David Loy argues that the key problem of the illusion of the self is that it erroneously separates humans from the world and causes them “to [falsely] experience this world as a collection of discrete things rather than as the Dao.”Footnote 12 By contrast, recognizing that there is no self allows one to experience “the world … as it is before our conceptual thinking divides it up.”Footnote 13 That experience of becoming one with undifferentiated reality provides normative guidance because it allows the cultivated individual to employ moral relativism for the “task of apparently saving all sentient beings while actually doing nothing at all.”Footnote 14 Despite their differences, then, both Slingerland and Loy agree that the Way provides a normative foundation for the text's claims regarding the self, whatever those claims might be.
Like previous studies, this article will also argue that the concept of the Way is an integral element in understanding the vision of the self in the “Inner Chapters.” However, it contends that dao is a descriptive term rather than a normative one.Footnote 15 This is not to say that the text does not present a normative injunction to understand the Way, simply that the term itself does not refer to an objective or normative order. Instead, the word dao simply refers to the totality of existence in all of its ceaseless transformation. Within this ever-changing chaos, there exist regular patterns of activity that lend the cosmos a sense of constancy, even though they too may be subject to change. Consequently, the text's primary concern is how to map, accord with, and even alter those patterns in order to act successfully.
These points are essential for understanding the self because, like the Way, human beings are composite entities characterized by both change and regular patterns. Of those patterns, the text is particularly concerned with the tendency of human beings to create “identities” (ming 名, literally “name” or “reputation”) for themselves by reifying transitory preferences and simplifying the complexity of their beings. This tendency is widespread and leads to many of the most problematic elements of human society. Accordingly, one of the text's most important arguments is how to work with that tendency in order to alter its consequences.
The sections below illustrate these points in detail and demonstrate that the text's ambiguous stance regarding the existence of the self is due to a lack of concern with strong ontological claims on that topic. Instead, the text's focus is on “certain undesirable habits of thought or behavior” that humans exhibit regarding the entire notion of self.Footnote 16
The Cosmos and the Self
Before exploring the central issue of identity, however, it is necessary to survey the text's larger cosmological claims in more detail. Of those claims, the most important is the text's notion of the “Way” (dao 道), which refers to the cosmos as a whole.
Prior to its first explicit mention of the “Way,” the “Inner Chapters” provides a series of cosmological passages in the “Xiaoyaoyou” 逍遙遊 and “Qiwulun” chapters that describe the cosmos as being characterized by the interdependency and interconnection of all things, as well as by processes of continuous change referred to as the “Transformation of Things” (wuhua 物化).Footnote 17
Following these cosmological passages, the text introduces the Way by juxtaposing it with the manner in which human beings limit themselves. By contrast, the text characterizes the Way in comprehensive terms, rhetorically asking “by what was the Way hidden that there is truth and artifice?” (dao wu hu yin er you zhen wei 道惡乎隱而有真偽) and “how can the Way go away and not exist?” (dao wu hu wang er bu cun 道惡乎往而不存).Footnote 18
The Way, in other words, is not a separate entity that can leave or cease to exist. It is the totality of the cosmos as a whole in which all things have an equal place. Accordingly, it is only when that whole is obscured that one can establish dualistic hierarchies that prioritize certain objects over others.Footnote 19 Later passages in the “Qiwulun” pick up on these points by stating that the “Way has never begun to have boundaries” (fu dao wei shi you feng 夫道未始有封) and that the “Great Way is not named” (fu da dao bu cheng 夫大道不稱). As the totality of everything that exists, the Way cannot be delineated or described as if it were a finite, separate object.Footnote 20
In one of its most extended discussions of the Way as the cosmos, the text describes it as follows:
夫道，有情有信， 無為無形；可傳而不可受，可得而不可見； 自本自根，未有天地，自古以固存；神鬼神帝，生天生地；在太極之先而不為高，在六極之下而不為深；先天地生而不為久，長於上古而不為老。
As for the Way, it has tendencies and reliability (but) lacks action and form. It can be passed down but cannot be received. It can be obtained but cannot be seen. It was rooted in itself and based in itself before there was Heaven and Earth. It has permanently existed since antiquity. It gave spirit to the ghosts and gave spirit to Di. It generated Heaven and generated Earth. It is above the highest point but is not tall; it is below the six directions but is not deep. It was born before Heaven and Earth but is not long-lasting; it grew since high antiquity but is not old.Footnote 21
As the aggregate of everything that exists, the Way possesses no distinct form, nor does it engage in (deliberate) “action” (wei 為) as would a separate entity.Footnote 22 At the same time, it cannot be described by relativistic adjectives because such descriptions rely on the contrast between different entities or objects. Similarly, the Way can be said to precede any particular entity (such as Heaven and Earth) because whatever preceded those entities would be equally part of the Way since it is simply a designation for everything that exists. As such, it can also be described as the generative source of those entities in addition to being comprised by them.
The Way, then, is the continually unfolding and transforming cosmos understood as a whole. However, despites its changes, the Way also exhibits patterns of motion (referred to in this passage as “tendencies” qing 情),Footnote 23 the relative regularity of which lends the cosmos a certain degree of “reliability” (xin 信, literally “trustworthiness”):
日夜相代乎前，而莫知其所萌.。已乎，已乎！旦暮得此，其所由以生乎！非彼無我，非我無所取。是亦近矣， 而不知其所為使。若有真宰，而特不得其眹。可行已信，而不見其形，有情而無形。
Day and night replace each other in front, and none know where they begin. Stop! Stop! As for dawn and dusk, we obtain them.Footnote 24 They are the source by means of which we live! If not for them there would be no me, if not for me there would be nothing that they obtain. This is indeed close [to the matter], but I do not know that which they are made and caused by. If there is a True Controller, I simply do not obtain its traces. That it can act, I already believe, but I do not see its form. It has tendencies [qing] but lacks form.Footnote 25
Although the ultimate cause of their existence remains impenetrable to human understanding, cyclical patterns such as day and night (which are examples of cosmic tendencies) lend a sense of constancy to the ever-changing cosmos. Curiously, that constancy also gives human beings the sense that those patterns are caused by an intentional agent or “True Controller” (zhenzai 真宰).
Human beings share all of the defining features of the Way, namely its composite nature, mutability, and regular patterns of activity. Like the cosmos, humans are composite entities whose bodies exhibit great physical variety and contain numerous components, including the “heart-mind” (xin 心), “spirit” (shen 神), “ethereal soul” (hun 魂), “essence” (jing 精), the undefined “Numinous Storehouse” (lingfu 靈府), and cultivated attitudes such as “virtue” (de 德).Footnote 26
Collectively, the above elements make up the shen 身.Footnote 27 Literally meaning “body,” shen refers to the total matrix of a human being and is thus frequently used in a way that suggests the translation of “person.”Footnote 28 Because the text's holistic vision emphasizes that one must embrace the entirety of one's shen, instead of prioritizing and identifying with a single aspect of it, this study renders it as “self.”Footnote 29
In addition to being a composite entity like the Way, the self is defined, again like the Way, in terms of mutability as it experiences “myriad changes without limit” (wanhua er wei shi you ji 萬化而未始有極).Footnote 30
In a final mirroring of the cosmos, the human self also exhibits consistent patterns of behavior in spite of its myriad changes:
百骸，九竅，六藏， 賅而存焉，吾誰與為親？汝皆說之乎？其有私焉？如是皆有為臣妾乎？其臣妾不足以相治乎？其遞相為君臣乎？其有真君存焉？如求得其情與不得，無益損乎其真。
The one hundred bones, the nine openings, the six repositories come together and exist here [as my body]. With which am I closest? Do you delight in all of them? Is there one that is favored among them? If it is like this then are all of them serving as ministers and concubines? Aren't ministers and concubines insufficient to govern each other? Do they each in turn serve as lord and minister? Do they have a True Lord present among them? Whether, in seeking it, one obtains its tendencies [qing] or not does not add to or detract from its truth.Footnote 31
Much like the cosmic tendencies of the Way, the regular tendencies of the self give the sense that they are under the control of a single agent, referred to in this case as the “True Lord” (zhenjun 真君). For whatever reason, this explanation appears more intuitive to human beings than the idea of self-organizing, interactive systems. In other words, humans exhibit a tendency (qing) to regard patterns of activity (which are themselves examples of qing) as evidence of single, controlling agents.Footnote 32 This interpretative tendency functions at both the cosmic and personal levels, resulting in the concepts of the “True Controller” and “True Lord.”
Curiously, while the text's focus on dynamic systems suggests that such an interpretation may be in error, this suggestion is not definitive.Footnote 33 Thus, it is possible that a True Controller of the cosmos or a True Lord of the human body really does exist. Moreover, the tendency to posit such an entity is, by itself, not necessarily problematic. As will be discussed below, the text's chief concern is that this tendency has the potential to intersect with another human tendency: the predilection for identity.
Self, Identity, and Sense of Self
The tendency of human beings to interpret themselves as unique entities under the control of a unitary agent can be termed their “sense of self.”Footnote 34 Although the “Inner Chapters” does not discuss this idea explicitly, the notion that each human sees himself or herself as a distinct being appears implicit in many of its discussions, including the statement by Nanguo Ziqi mentioned above.
The careful phrasing of Nanguo Ziqi's statement, “I lost myself,” suggests that Ziqi retains enough of a sense of self to remain cognizant of having lost something.Footnote 35 Accordingly, the character wu 吾 refers to the totality of Ziqi's self (his shen) that is aware of that loss. Were he to truly lose his entire sense of self, he would have no sense of an “I” and could not conceptualize or be aware of that loss. By contrast, the character wo 我 (“myself”) refers to the much narrower idea of “identity” (ming 名).Footnote 36
In order to explain this point, it is necessary to provide a more detailed discussion of the meaning of ming within the “Inner Chapters.” Often translated as “name” or “reputation,” ming is one of the first concepts that the text introduces in its opening lines:
北冥有魚，其名為鯤。鯤之大，不知其幾千里也。化而為鳥，其名為鵬。
In the Northern Darkness, there is a fish. Its name [ming] is Kun. I do not know how many thousands of li its size is. It transforms and becomes a bird. Its name [ming] is Peng.Footnote 37
Here ming is used to designate distinct entities. Accordingly, it is entirely tied to physical form. When that form changes (from fish to bird), there is a corresponding change in designation (from Kun to Peng).
While this usage of ming is relatively narrow, the text quickly enlarges its scope by depicting a dialogue in which the sage-king Yao 堯 attempts to cede his throne to the eremitic Xu You 許由 based on the rationale that the latter is truly responsible for the ordered state of the world. Xu You, however, rejects Yao's offer and responds as follows:
子治天下，天下既已治也。而我猶代子，吾將為名乎？名者，實之賓也，吾將為賓乎？
You govern All Under Heaven and All Under Heaven is already well-governed. But, if I were to replace you, would I be doing it for a name [ming]? Name [ming] is the guest of substance. Would I be doing it to be a guest?Footnote 38
Here, Xu You draws a contrast between ming and “substance” (shi 實), and implies that the latter refers to the ordered state of the world while the former refers to who is deemed to be responsible for that order. Unlike its first occurrence in the Kun and Peng passage, here ming is not tied to physical form, but rather acts as a designation for one's social position and reputation, irrespective of whether or not that reputation is accurate. Consequently, the text implies that ming is a social or mental construct that defines a given person.
The text expands upon the latter point in the famous butterfly dream passage:
昔者莊周夢為胡蝶，栩栩然胡蝶也，自喻適志與！不知周也。俄然覺，則蘧蘧然周也。不知周之夢為胡蝶與，胡蝶之夢為周與？周與胡蝶，則必有分矣。此之謂物化。
Once, Zhuang Zhou dreamt he was a butterfly, a happily fluttering butterfly. He delighted in himself and did as he pleased. He did not know Zhou. He started awake and was suddenly Zhou. He did not know if he was Zhou dreaming that he was a butterfly or a butterfly dreaming that he was Zhou. As for Zhou and a butterfly there necessarily is a difference. This is called the “Transformation of Things.”Footnote 39
This brief narrative mirrors the opening discussion of the Kun fish transforming into the Peng bird. However, instead of depicting the physical transformation of one entity into another (along with the corresponding change in ming), it demonstrates how an individual, in this case Zhuangzi, might replicate the “Transformation of Things” within his or her imagination. Although the passage does not explicitly use the term ming, it uses Zhuangzi's ming (Zhou 周) as a kind of metonym for his entire self.Footnote 40
As the only instance in which the text refers to Zhuangzi in this way, and not by the honorific of “Master Zhuang,” this narratives works together with the above passages to define ming as an imaginative construct that defines a given entity and can be either directly tied to that entity's physical form and actions or decoupled from them. Consequently, this study uses the broader translation of “identity” instead of “name” or “reputation.” As will be seen below, even this translation is somewhat too narrow as the creation of a ming is a complex process involving multiple steps.Footnote 41
Returning to the butterfly narrative, we can see that the passage presents a single self (Zhuangzi's entire physical and mental being) but two distinct identities: the butterfly and Zhuang Zhou. When dreaming, Zhuangzi ceases to define his identity as that of a particular human being and, instead, thinks of himself as a butterfly.
Relating this point back to Nanguo Ziqi, we can see that both passages depict a loss of identity in which the practitioner lets go of the construct by which they define themselves (referred to in the former passage as “myself” wo 我 and the latter as “Zhou” 周). The principal difference is that while Nanguo Ziqi temporarily lets go of his identity and exists for a time in an identity-less state, Zhuangzi replaces his identity as a human with that of a butterfly.Footnote 42 Consequently, the latter can be described as an act of imaginative empathy in which Zhuangzi imagines what it would be like to exist as another entity.Footnote 43
As will be discussed in more detail below, the imagining of different identities is a key practice for the text and doing so effectively is one of the highest goals to which its practitioners might aspire. At the same time, however, this passage explains that decoupling one's sense of self and one's identity is a potentially disorienting practice. Within the dream, Zhuangzi's sense of himself as an entity is synonymous with his specific identity (the butterfly). It is only when he awakens, transitioning back to his ordinary identity as a human being, that he becomes disoriented. To understand why that disorientation occurs, and why it must be managed, we must turn to more detailed accounts of identity and its formation.
The Formation of Identity
We have seen that the “Inner Chapters” presents a vision of the self as a composite, physical entity. Furthermore, the self retains a sense of itself as a unique being and can be defined according to a specific identity. While it is possible to attenuate or alter that identity, as Nanguo Ziqi and Zhuangzi do, the passages discussed below explain that most humans remain wedded to specific versions of their identities throughout their entire lives.
The locus of the imaginative construct of identity is the “heart-mind” (xin). Thus, when Nanguo Ziqi loses himself, his attendant, Yancheng Ziyou 顏成子游, remarks that Ziqi's heart-mind has become “like dead ash” (ru sihui 如死灰). Similarly, the “Renjianshi” 人間世 opens with a dialogue in which Confucius’ disciple, Yan Hui 顏回, requests permission to reform the immoral conduct of the ruler of the state of Wei 衛.Footnote 44 Confucius criticizes his disciple's plans as inevitably leading to failure and subtly suggests that their flaw is Yan Hui's implicit assumption that his own identity is a moral one.Footnote 45 Confucius summarizes this issue by stating that Yan Hui is “still taking the heart-mind as a teacher” (you shixin 猶師心)—a key point that will be explored in greater detail below.Footnote 46
Since the heart-mind is the locus of identity, Confucius instructs his disciple in the “fasting of the heart-mind” (xinzhai 心齋) so that Yan Hui might rid himself of the egotistical preoccupation with identity that endangers him. After hearing Confucius’ description of how to empty his heart-mind, Yan Hui remarks:
回之未始得使，實自回也；得使之也，未始有回也； 可謂虛乎？
Before I, Hui, attained your instruction, I was certain of myself as Hui. Having obtained your instruction, [I realize] there has never been Hui. Can this be called emptiness?Footnote 47
Here, we see that Confucius's description offers Yan Hui a glimpse of a state in which his heart-mind is temporarily emptied of the identity of “Yan Hui.” As with Nanguo Ziqi, Yan Hui still retains a sense of himself, it is simply that that sense is no longer tied to a specific identity.
The imagery of these examples stands in sharp contrast to the text's descriptions of how most people live their lives. The “Qiwulun” explains that most people become so attached to their physical individuality (their “completed forms” chengxing 成形) that they construct “completed heart-minds” (chengxin 成心) to match. In other words, each individual fills or “completes” (cheng 成) his or her heart-mind with a specific version of his or her identity.Footnote 48
Elsewhere in the text, the figure of Zhuangzi explains the process of constructing identity as “using one's likes and dislikes to inwardly harm the self” (yi haowu nei shang qi shen 以好惡內傷其身).Footnote 49 In other words, the process of constructing an identity involves reifying one's transitory preferences, which likely result from specific circumstances, into an enduring identity that is understood as the sum total of those preferences.
What is most problematic is that individuals do not recognize that their identities are constructs of their greater selves. Consequently, they conflate their more nebulous and undefined sense of self with the specific construct of identity to produce the reified notion of a true or essential self. In doing so, they use their identities to define the “True Lord” that may or not exist within themselves, treating it as if it were synonymous with a narrow and reified collection of preferences.Footnote 50 According to the “Qiwulun,” most people maintain that specific image of themselves throughout their lives, even though it leads to the cessation of personal growth, mental exhaustion, and death.Footnote 51
The “Qiwulun” provides a specific example of this reification in the case of the “three masters” (sanzi 三子), individuals who excelled in specific fields and wasted their lives trying to defend and advance what they preferred simply because they preferred it.Footnote 52 Tellingly, one of those three masters, the logician Huizi 惠子, not only defends the idea of a reified “human essence” (renqing 人情) but is also described by Zhuangzi as having a “heart-mind of weeds” (peng zhi xin 蓬之心), an image that contrasts starkly with the empty heart-mind advocated by Confucius or Nanguo Ziqi's heart-mind of “dead ash.”Footnote 53
Of greatest concern to the text is that the completed heart-mind is described as the prerequisite for normative or evaluative judgements. Those who possess heart-minds that are filled with reified identities regard them authoritatively, “taking them as teachers” (shi zhi 師之) just as Yan Hui did when developing his plans to reform the ruler of Wei.Footnote 54 In other words, having reified their preferences into a stable identity, most humans regard that identity as the authoritative foundation for normative, evaluative frameworks that are referred to as “right and wrong” (shifei 是非, literally “this-not this”) frameworks. From that point onward, individuals who possess such identities consider themselves able to “arbitrate right and wrong” (si shifei 司是非) and, like the three masters, seek to impose their own preferences upon the world based on the conceit that those preferences actually reflect normative goods.Footnote 55
In order to fully explain the nature of identity, the “Qiwulun” offers a complex description of how those normative frameworks are formed from an individual's preferences:
物無非彼，物無非是。自彼則不見，自知則知之。故曰：彼出於是，是亦因彼。彼是方生之說也
Things do not have no “that,” things do not have no “this.” If [one looks from] “that” then [one] doesn't see, if one knows oneself then one knows it. Therefore, I say: “that” arises from “this,” “this” also relies on “that.” This is the explanation that “that” and “this” are simultaneously generated.Footnote 56
The text begins its explanation by discussing an alternative type of framework, a “descriptive framework” that is composed of the pairing of “that” (bi 彼) and “this” (shi 是). Crucially, the latter term can also mean “right” and is used in the compound “right and wrong” (shifei). These two interdependent terms exist within the perspectives of all creatures (“things” wu 物) in the world who use them to distinguish themselves (“this”) in relation to other entities around them (“that”). Thus the precise referent of “that” varies from situation to situation but “this” tends to remain relatively constant within the perspective of a given entity as it typically refers to the self that possess that perspective.
These descriptive frameworks are a means of understanding, as things must first understand themselves as distinct entities (“know themselves” zizhi 自知) in order to understand the distinctiveness of others and how to relate to them. Since all entities, and particularly all humans, perceive the world in this way, everything is simultaneously a “this” (from within its own perspective) and a “that” (from within the perspectives of others).
Because “this” and “that” are mutually dependent, they are said to be “simultaneously generated” (fangsheng 方生), an idea that applies to other dichotomies as well:
雖然，方生方死，方死方生；方可方不可，方不可方可；因是因非，因非因是。
Even though this is the case, simultaneously there is life and simultaneously there is death, simultaneously there is death and simultaneously there is life, simultaneously there is acceptability and simultaneously there is unacceptability, simultaneously there is unacceptability and simultaneously there is acceptability. Relying on right is relying on wrong, relying on wrong is relying on right.Footnote 57
This list of mutually defining dichotomies demonstrates an escalating normative quality. Having begun above with the relatively neutral terms of “that” and “this,” the text here moves through “life” (sheng 生) and “death” (si 死)—which could be understood both neutrally and normatively depending on one's perspective—and terminates in the explicitly normative dualisms of “acceptable” (ke 可) and “unacceptable” (buke 不可) and “right and wrong” (shifei).Footnote 58 Accordingly, the list illustrates a slippage from relatively neutral, descriptive terms to hierarchical, normative terms.
Relating this slippage back to the notions of the completed heart-mind and fixed identity, we can see that the origin of shifei frameworks is the moment when an individual reifies his or her own identity, which consists largely of transitory preferences, into a permanent “this” (shi) and then normatively privileges that identity as being “right” (shi). Accordingly, anything that that individual encounters is no longer a “that” (bi) but rather a “not-this” (fei) that is inherently “wrong” (fei) simply because it is not identical to that individual's reified identity. Therefore, the only way for something to be considered “right” (shi) is for it to resemble the identity (the reified and normatively privileged “this” shi) of the individual that now acts as the standard of “right” (shi).
Put another way, we can say that individuals only regard others as right if those others possess preferences that match those of the evaluating individual and therefore mirror his or her own reified identity. In the “Renjianshi,” Confucius sums up this tendency by saying that, when filled with identity “the heart-mind stops at matching” (xin zhi yu fu 心止於符).Footnote 59 In other words, a person who has filled their heart-mind with a reified identity evaluates the world according to his or her own frameworks, affirming those elements that match those frameworks and dismissing or denigrating those that do not.Footnote 60
The text provides an example of this way of thinking in the “Xiaoyaoyou”:
窮髮之北有冥海者，天池也。有魚焉，其廣數千里，未有知其脩者，其名為鯤。有鳥焉，其名為鵬，背若泰山，翼若垂天之雲，摶扶搖羊角而上者九萬里，絕雲氣，負青天，然後圖南，且適南冥也。斥鴳笑之曰：「彼且奚適也？我騰躍而上，不過數仞而下，翱翔蓬蒿之間，此亦飛之至也。而彼且奚適也？」
In the barren north, there is a dark sea, which is the Heavenly Pool. There is a fish there. Its breadth is several thousand li, and I do not yet have knowledge of its length. Its name is Kun. There is a bird there. Its name is Peng. Its back is like Mount Tai (and) its wings are like the hanging clouds of Heaven. It wheels on the whirlwind and tornado and rises up to ninety thousand li. It cuts through the vapors of cloud, shoulders the blue Heaven and, after that, sets course for the south. It will go to the Southern Darkness. The scolding quail laughs at him, saying: “Where will he go? I run and jump up, and do not surpass several ren and then come back down. Fluttering and circling amidst the weeds and underbrush, this is indeed the pinnacle of flight. But where will he go?”Footnote 61
In this passage, the “scolding quail” (chiyan 斥鴳) remains so locked into its own perspective that it belittles and dismisses the Peng bird simply because the latter's size and abilities are different from its own. Consequently, the quail doesn't believe the Peng bird can achieve the “pinnacle of flight” (fei zhi zhi 飛之至) that is fluttering amongst the “weeds” (peng 蓬)—the imagery of which recalls Huizi's “heart-mind of weeds.”Footnote 62
At this point, we are able to step back and consider the formation of identity as a whole. Humans begin with the sense that the tendencies of their composite forms are actually indicative of the existence of a unitary agent. While that unitary agent may or may not exist, humans act as if it does and think of themselves as unitary individuals. More problematically, humans resist the notion that they will change. Instead, they reify their transitory preferences into a fixed image of themselves (an identity) and use that identity to define the agent whose existence they suspect. In doing so, they conflate identity with sense of self and produce the notion of the true self.
This process explains the disruption that occurs in the butterfly dream. Because individuals think of the entirety of their beings as synonymous with identity, replacing that identity with another identity (as Zhuangzi does with the butterfly) can disrupt their entire sense of self. As will be seen below, the fact that imagining other identities runs counter to ordinary habits of thought is one of the reasons that the text considers it to be such a valuable exercise.
Because humans normatively privilege their constructed identities, those identities transform flexible descriptive frameworks into normative frameworks. That change is problematic because, while the former can foster communication and understanding, the latter result in judgmental condemnation based on the fact that other creatures are not identical to oneself. Reifying identity, therefore, not only curtails the potential growth of individual human beings by trapping them within repeated patterns of self-identification, but also inhibits their ability to understand other entities in the world. Perhaps most importantly, identity's establishment of consistent judgements that are applied regardless of situational differences means that those who maintain a fixed identity are potentially blind to the ongoing changes within themselves and in the larger world around them.
By presenting the origin of shifei frameworks as a slippage from descriptive to normative dualisms, the text clarifies that there is no compelling need for them to arise. Instead, they are generated by habits of reification, and as such they can be altered by the practices that the text advocates. Before addressing this latter point, however, it is necessary to consider the implications of the text's vision for human society as a whole.
Identity and Society
The fact that any human can possess an identity that they consider to be a “teacher” means that every person can grant themselves the authority needed to make normative judgements.Footnote 63 Therefore, the construction of identity fractures humanity into a collection of atomistic, identity-based perspectives that seem to preclude a species-level perspective.Footnote 64 Moreover, since humans appear driven to impose their normative judgements on others, as in the case of the three masters above, that atomistic situation continually generates contention and—as illustrated by the passages discussed below—even violence.
However, the text clarifies that, because humans do not construct their identities in social isolation, that perspectival atomization is reduced. Most importantly, while each identity is unique in its specifics, most humans rely upon the social context that they inhabit in order to define themselves and, thus, generate their identities. This point has already been seen in the dialogue between Yao and Xu You above.
For the text, the most important feature of the human social context is what might be termed its “social frameworks.” Much like individual normative frameworks, these structures are constructs or dreams of the heart-mind:
且有大覺而後知此其大夢也，而愚者自以為覺，竊竊然知之。君乎，牧乎，固哉！
Furthermore, there [will be] a great awakening and afterwards we will know that this [i.e. human society] is a great dream. But the foolish consider themselves awake, furtively assuming that they understand it. Lords! Shepherds! So certain [are they]!Footnote 65
Social frameworks function according to stable identities, which include social roles such as “lords” (jun 君) and “shepherds” (mu 牧) and which are arranged into hierarchies of relative worth. Accordingly, social frameworks are both generated by stable identities and help to generate them. Although both these roles and frameworks are constructs (“dreams” meng 夢), most people remain dependent on them for their own identities and regard them as if they were fixed elements of the world.
The “Dechongfu” 德充符 abounds with examples of characters who move through the world according to the guidance of social frameworks and attempt to apply the identities that they generate to other people, irrespective of the circumstances. Thus, Confucius berates a character named Shushan No-Toes (Shushan Wuzhi 叔山無趾) for his past crimes and proves unable to see No-Toes as anything but a convict.Footnote 66 Similarly, the prime minister Zichan 子產 insists that another convict named Shentu Jia 申徒嘉 should treat him with the deference due to his rank, despite the fact that both individuals are students of equal status who share the same master.Footnote 67
The figure of the convict illustrates that social frameworks are inherently coercive and use both “punishments” (xing 刑) and rewards as ways to enforce the identities that they create and upon which they are built. Accordingly, mutilations such as cutting off a person's foot (as in the case of No-Toes and Shentu Jia) are not simply acts of punishment or retribution. Rather, they are mechanisms that construct visual reminders of identity that prompt people to treat those who have been punished as perpetual criminals. Similarly, more positive mechanisms such as “fame” (wen 聞) force identities upon others by positing a “stable self” (ji 己) to which they can assign credit for “meritorious actions” (gong 功) that can be used to establish an identity (ming).Footnote 68
While these mechanisms exhibit superficial differences, the text suggests that they are equally coercive measures designed to trap individuals within social frameworks. Unsurprisingly, it warns its readers that if they perform good actions, they should avoid identity or reputation (ming) and, if they perform bad actions, they should avoid punishment since both lead to the destructive consequence of having a stable identity imposed upon one.Footnote 69
Ironically, the purpose of social frameworks seems to be to nourish human beings and protect them from the potential violence of contending normative frameworks:
泉涸，魚相與處於陸，相呴以溼，相濡以沫，不如相忘於江湖。與其譽堯而非桀，不如兩忘而化其道。
When the streams dry up, fish are stranded together on land. They breathe on one another in order to moisten and wet each other with spit. This is not as good as forgetting one another in the rivers and lakes. As for praising Yao and condemning Jie, this is not as good as forgetting both and transforming [in] the Way.Footnote 70
This description occurs in the “Dazongshi” 大宗師 as part of a lengthy series of passages that contrast limited and expansive definitions of the Way in order to demonstrate that any “Way” that is understood as encompassing less than the entire cosmos will inevitably fail and degenerate. Here, the passage presents the Way as a relatively broad term for patterns of behavior that are elsewhere defined in the chapter as consisting of flexibility, egalitarianism, and friendship.Footnote 71 When those patterns break down, as is inevitable given their limited nature, humans create social frameworks in order to care for others in the same way that fish attempt to save each other from drying out when stranded on the land.
However, despite this seemingly altruistic purpose, the most that social frameworks can achieve is the stabilization of conflict and violence between individuals by establishing shared, normative standards such as what constitutes a good king (Yao) or a bad king (Jie 桀). The fact that they do so according to fixed identities means that the underlying issue (the reification of changeable patterns into rigid structures) remains unresolved. Therefore, they not only help blind people to the ever-changing patterns of the Way, but can also perpetuate the very violence that they attempt to curtail:
南海之帝為儵，北海之帝為忽，中央之帝為渾沌。儵與忽時相與遇於渾沌之地，渾沌待之甚善。儵與忽謀報渾沌之德，曰：「人皆有七竅，以視聽食息，此獨無有，嘗試鑿之。」日鑿一竅，七日而渾沌死。
The Thearch of the Southern Ocean was Shu, the Thearch of the Northern Ocean was Hu, and the Thearch of the Centre was Hundun. Shu and Hu would often meet with one another in the territory of Hundun (and) Hundun treated them extremely well. Shu and Hu planned on how to repay Hundun's virtue, saying: “All people have seven openings in order to see, hear, eat and breath; he alone has none. Let us attempt to bore them.” Each day they bored another opening and (after) seven days Hundun died.Footnote 72
This passage, which acts as a somber closure to the “Inner Chapters,” highlights the fact that violence and destruction are inevitable parts of identity-based frameworks, because such frameworks motivate those who operate within them to see the world according to themselves. Accordingly, even gestures of caring or gratitude can become destructive as individuals act according to their own preferences and seek to impose upon others what they themselves might desire or believe to be good, even if it is to the detriment of others.
As the above analysis demonstrates, the human tendency toward reified identity presents a crucial problem for the text. At an individual level, it inhibits growth and understanding. At a social level, it plays a key role in the formation and maintenance of coercive frameworks that contain and encourage an inherent potential for conflict and violence. It is in response to these issues that the text presents its techniques for retraining that tendency.
Virtue and the Mirror-Like Mind
The text depicts the generation of identity as an inexplicable, and perhaps even inescapable, human tendency. As the term “fasting of the heart-mind” implies, being empty of identity is a temporary state—after a time, the heart-mind will fill up with identity once more. Instead of fighting that tendency, the text advocates that its practitioners take advantage of it by imaginatively filling their heart-minds with different identities in order to enhance their understanding of others and gradually disassociate their identities from their sense of self.
While the butterfly dream served as one example of that alternation, there are numerous other examples in the text such as the character of Clansman Tai (taishi 泰氏) or the group of friends in the “Dazongshi” who are said to “borrow from different things and entrust them to the same body” (jia yu yiwu tuo yu tongti 假於異物託於同體).Footnote 73
In order to overcome the disorientation to one's sense of self that alternating identities can engender, practitioners must develop the cultivated attitude of “virtue” (de 德), for which Confucius offers a succinct explanation:
自事其心者，哀樂不易施乎前，知其不可奈何而安之若命，德之至也。
As for serving one's own heart-mind, [if] sorrow and joy do not change or shift in front of one, [and one] knows what one can do nothing about and is at peace with it as if it were fate—this is the pinnacle of virtue.Footnote 74
Virtuous individuals are those who are able to protect themselves from the vicissitudes of the cosmos by cultivating a state of emotional invulnerability. They do so by reformulating their responses based on an acceptance of what they cannot control, treating any such event “as if it were fate” (ruoming 若命).Footnote 75
The relative constancy of the attitude of virtue means that it can be easily mistaken for a stable identity. For example, when explaining the virtue of one Wang Tai 王駘, Confucius offers the following description:
夫保始之徵，不懼之實。勇士一人，雄入於九軍。將求名而能自要者，而猶若此，而況官天地，府萬物，直寓六骸，象耳目，一知之所知，而心未嘗死者乎！彼且擇日而登假，人則從是也。彼且何肯以物為事乎！
The proof of preserving the beginning is the substance of not being afraid. A brave soldier will plunge alone into nine armies. [If] one who seeks identity and is able to consider himself essential is like this, how much more so one who considers Heaven and Earth to be a palace, the myriad things to be a storehouse, simply considers the six parts of the body to be a lodging, considers the ears and eyes to be images, unifies that which he knows and whose heart-mind has never tasted death? Furthermore, he will select a day and ascend far off. [Even if] people follow him, why should he consider things to be relevant matters [to himself]?”Footnote 76
Here, Confucius draws an explicit parallel between a soldier who pursues identity on the basis of social renown and Wang Tai. Moreover, Confucius’ description disregards Wang Tai as a whole by suggesting that the latter possesses an essential self that merely inhabits his body.Footnote 77
The remainder of the “Dechongfu” continues to describe virtue as if it were a disembodied or essential self.Footnote 78 However, the chapter also depicts virtue's emotional equilibrium as enabling an active and timely engagement with the larger world.Footnote 79 While the pattern of thought that constitutes reified identity could also be defined as a pattern of responsiveness, it is one marked not by timely adaptation, but by the consistent application of fixed concepts regardless of the unique aspects of a given situation.
More importantly, virtue is not rooted exclusively in the heart-mind. Instead, it is described as a metaphorical space that surrounds the heart-mind. For instance, Confucius states that Wang Tai “allows his heart-mind to wander in the harmony of virtue” (you xin yu de zhi he 游心於德之和).Footnote 80 The phrase “allow the heart-mind to wander” (you xin 游心) also occurs in the “Renjianshi” and “Yingdiwang” 應帝王 and the term “wander” (you 游) is used throughout the “Inner Chapters” to describe an imaginative participation in, and alternation between, different frameworks and spaces.Footnote 81 Accordingly, this key phrase helps clarify the difference between identity and virtue.
Identity is a dream dreamt by the self and located in the heart-mind. By contrast, virtue is a cultivated space in which the heart-mind can wander. Therefore, we can understand virtue as a cultivated version of the sense of self that all entities possess. Unlike uncultivated versions of that sense, the emotional equilibrium of virtue means that those who cultivate it possess an invulnerable sense of self that cannot be disrupted by the vagaries of the cosmos or alterations to their identities. While that sense of constancy does bear a superficial resemblance to identity, the fact that virtue is a general attitude means that it is empty of the types of specific details (particularly preferences) that comprise an identity. Accordingly, to relate this point back to the “Qiwulun,” we can characterize virtue as the cultivated “I” (wu, one's sense of self) that is disentangled from the “myself” (wo) of identity.
Because virtue is a cultivated attitude empty of identity, practitioners can pair it with their cultivated heart-minds:
無為名尸，無為謀府，無為事任，無為知主。體盡無窮，而遊無朕，盡其所受於天， 而無見得，亦虛而已。至人之用心若鏡，不將不迎，應而不藏，故能勝物而不傷。
Do not act as an impersonator of identity, do not act as a storehouse of schemes, do not act as an undertaker of affairs, do not act as a master of knowledge. Embody the inexhaustible to the utmost and wander where there are no traces. Exhaust that which you receive from Heaven but do not display [your] gain. Simply be empty and that is all. The Perfect Person uses his mind like a mirror, neither sending things off nor welcoming them. He responds but does not store, therefore he can defeat things and not be injured.Footnote 82
If practitioners attenuate their own identities and empty their heart-minds, they can use their heart-minds to imagine the identities of other entities that they encounter. Their heart-minds thus become mirror-like as they no longer “store” (cang 藏) a reified identity and its attendant constructs but, instead, temporarily take on the identities of other entities in the same way that a mirror temporarily holds a reflected image.
A heart-mind engaged in such an ongoing, imaginative activity can be said to “wander,” and virtue, as an emotionally stable attitude, provides a cultivated space of safety in which that wandering can occur. In other words, when adept practitioners alternate between identities, they retain an enduring, harmonious sense of self that prevents the type of disorientation seen in the butterfly dream.Footnote 83 By doing so, practitioners decouple identity from sense of self, enhance their understanding of those whose identities they mirror, and imaginatively emulate the “Transformation of Things” that characterizes the Way. Conversely, “virtue is disrupted by identity” (de dang hu ming 德蕩乎名), because when the fixed and narrow nature of the latter is conflated with sense of self it renders a person blind and vulnerable to the fluctuations of the cosmos.Footnote 84
Thus, the argument of the text is not that humans should work to eliminate their human tendency toward identity, but that they should retrain it so that they adopt different identities and thereby avoid “using likes and dislikes to inwardly harm the self.” While this might appear to characters like Huizi to be an impossible and paradoxical elimination of “human essence” (renqing), such an objection arises only when one reifies the tendency toward reification into a stable definition of what it means to be human.Footnote 85
While space precludes a full description of the implications of such a retraining, the pivotal role of identity in human affairs suggests their magnitude. Among the many consequences that the text discusses, one of the most important is that a tenuous heart-mind and invulnerable sense of self automatically detach the practitioner from the social frameworks discussed above that function according to stable identities.Footnote 86 Accordingly, the widespread development of those traits has the potential to generate an entirely new vision of human society.
Conclusion
Having worked through some of the most relevant passages of the “Inner Chapters,” we are now in a position to step back and consider the text's overall argument regarding identity and the self. The basis of the text's argument is the Way: the composite, ever-changing totality of all that exists. Although the cosmos exhibits regular patterns or “tendencies” (qing), these patterns do not provide normative guidance for the entities that exist within, and help comprise, the Way. Like the Way, each human “self” (shen) exists as a composite, mutable entity that also includes regular tendencies of thought and behavior.
Those tendencies include the human predilection for interpreting regular patterns as evidence of unitary agents, whether that be at a cosmic or personal level. This tendency is related to each person's sense that they are a unique entity with the cosmos—their “sense of self.” By itself, this tendency is not necessarily problematic, and the text is ambiguous as to whether not the agents that it posits actually exist. What is more concerning is the potential for this tendency to intersect with the tendency of humans to define themselves using the imaginative construct of “identity” (ming).
Identity is a pattern of self-identification comprised of one's preferences and aversions that is located within the heart-mind. As a pattern of thought, it can be either flexible or static. When used flexibly, identity provides a useful way to navigate and interpret the world as it furnishes “descriptive” (bishi) frameworks that facilitate dialogue and interaction with other entities by recognizing the distinctiveness of both self and other. However, most people do not possess flexible identities because they become wedded to specific visions of themselves and so reify their transient preferences into a stable self-image, thereby “completing” (cheng) their heart-minds.
When the tendency toward reified identity intersects with the tendency to posit unitary agents, it results in the conflation of identity with sense of self. This causes individuals to define themselves exclusively by their fixed identities, thus producing notions like the true self. Such notions not only blind individuals to their greater selves, but also preclude growth as any change to one's reified identity is perceived as a problematic disruption of one's entire being.
Those individuals who reify their transitory preferences into stable identities accord those identities a normative status, utilizing them as the authoritative basis for passing judgement on the world. The text refers to this process as “taking the heart-mind as a teacher” (shixin). The elevation of an individual's personal preferences to normative judgements of right and wrong transforms descriptive frameworks into “normative” (shifei) frameworks. These frameworks are static as they rest upon the application of judgements that arise from specific contexts but are applied to all contexts irrespective of circumstantial differences.
In addition to blinding individuals to changing circumstances, the transformation from descriptive to normative frameworks precludes egalitarian interaction with others because individuals who possess them only recognize the worth of those who resemble their own identities and denigrate those who do not. Even more troubling is that individuals appear driven to impose their judgements on others, thereby creating contention and the potential for violence.
Since it includes elements such as an individual's social role, identity serves as a fundamental building block of human social frameworks. Such frameworks not only arrange identities into hierarchies of relative worth, but also employ measures such as “fame” (wen) and “punishment” (xing) in order to reinforce and generate those identities. In doing so, such frameworks establish shared standards of right and wrong in an effort to control and limit the potential violence of competing, identity-based perspectives. However, because they are based on identity, the efficacy of such frameworks is limited. On the contrary, they further blind humans to change by encouraging reification and also encourage the type of violence that they are intended to prevent.
All of the above constructs and their consequences arise from tendencies that appear deeply engrained in human beings. And humans thus tend to regard them as inevitable or even normative. However, the text is at pains to point out that within the ever-changing and normatively neutral cosmos of the Way, tendencies need not have inevitable outcomes. Accordingly, the “Inner Chapters” encourages its readers to retrain their tendencies toward different outcomes.
Although humans seem incapable of existing without identities, they can render their identities more flexible. In order to do so, they must train themselves to accept the vicissitudes of the cosmos so as to cultivate an invulnerable sense of self known as “virtue” (de). Virtue provides an emotionally and mentally safe space that is empty of specific content. As a result, humans can empty their heart-minds and allow them to “wander” (you) within that space.
Wandering is an imaginative act in which the practitioner temporarily takes on the identities of others like a mirror reflecting images. As such, it can be thought of as empathetic practice. Because such reflective acts occur within the space of virtue, they do not disrupt the practitioner's sense of self the way that they might in individuals who have conflated their reified identities with their greater selves. Consequently, practitioners can wander endlessly, refining their ability to understand and adapt to other entities and the ever-changing patterns of the Way.
In advocating this approach, the text does not claim that the human tendency toward identity should be eliminated, or that there exists a definitive normative order that one should follow. Instead, it offers an argument for how humans might work with a seemingly inescapable tendency, training it toward alternative ends and potentially effecting widespread change on the societal structures that result from it.
As a result of this argument, the text does not offer a clear answer on the ontological issue of “true self” versus “no self.” Instead, it focuses its attention on the consequences of acting based on a claim of reified essence, and it appears to conclude that, whatever the true nature of the human self, it is better to cultivate understanding and adaptation in order to foster egalitarian interactions and personal growth—normative valuations that are, within the context of the cosmic Way, ultimately groundless.
