early medieval period (220-589 CE). An accomplished interpreter of the
Laozi and the Yijing, Zhong Hui contributed significantly to the early
development of xuanxue—literally "learning" (xue) of the "dark" or
"mysterious" (xuan) Dao ("Way"), but sometimes translated as
"Neo-Daoism". He also was a major political figure whose ambition
eventually led to his untimely demise. Virtually all of Zhong Hui's
writings have been lost, which perhaps explains why he has been given
scant attention by students of Chinese philosophy. Had he not failed
in his attempt to overthrow the regime of his day, no doubt his
writings would have been preserved and given the attention they justly
deserve. In particular, his views on human "capacity and nature"
(caixing), as developed in his interpretation of the Laozi, are major
contributions to xuanxue philosophy, which dominated the Chinese
intellectual scene from the third to the sixth century CE. In contrast
to other thinkers of the time, who argued that capacity and nature are
the same (tong), different (yi), or diverge from one another (li),
Zhong Hui argued that they coincide (he). In effect, he proposed that
what is endowed is potential, which must be carefully nurtured and
brought to completion through learning and effort. While one's native
endowment is not sufficient, one must have some material to begin with
in order to achieve the desired result. Thus, it cannot be said that
the latter has nothing to do with the former.
1. Philosopher and Statesman
Toward the end of the second century CE, the once glorious Han dynasty
(founded in 206 BCE) was already in irreparable decline, with regional
military commanders competing for power and control. Among them, Cao
Cao (155–220) proved the strongest and in 220 CE his son, Cao Pi
(187–226), formally ended the rule of Han and established the Wei
dynasty (220–265).
The third century was a time of profound change. The end of the Han
dynasty brought political turmoil and hardship; but it also cleared a
space for intellectual renewal. The Confucian tradition that dominated
much of the Han intellectual landscape now seemed powerless to
overcome the forces of disorder that threatened to tear the country
asunder. Indeed, to some scholars Han Confucianism was not only
ineffective as a remedy, but also part of the problem that led to the
downfall of the Han dynasty. New approaches to reestablishing order
were urgently needed. In this context, xuanxue was born.
The word xuan literally depicts a shade of black with dark red. It
appears prominently in the Laozi, signifying metaphorically the
profound unfathomability of the Dao. For this reason, xuanxue has been
translated as "Neo-Daoism." However, while it is true that
third-century Chinese philosophers turned to the Laozi for insight,
the term "Neo-Daoism" can be misleading because mainstream xuanxue was
never a partisan Daoist or "anti-Confucian" movement. Rather, xuanxue
scholars saw the whole classical heritage as embodying the truth of
the Dao. In other words, Confucius, Laozi, and other sages and
near-sages of old were all concerned with unlocking the mystery of
Dao, to lay out a blueprint for order. They were all "Daoists" in this
sense. What seemed necessary was a radical reinterpretation of the
classical tradition that would eradicate the distortions and excesses
of Han Confucianism and reestablish the rule of Dao, in both practice
and theory, in government and learning. To avoid misunderstanding,
most scholars today prefer to translate xuanxue as "Dark Learning," or
more clumsily but less ambiguous, "Learning of the Mysterious (Dao)."
Although the Wei dynasty had to contend with two rival kingdoms during
its early years, there was a sense of optimism that order could be
restored. There were eager attempts to reform public administration,
especially the process of appointment of officials, and law. During
the Zhengshi reign period (240–249) of the Wei dynasty in particular,
there was a flurry of intellectual activities that saw the first wave
of xuanxue scholars arriving on the scene. Zhong Hui was a significant
player in this development.
Zhong Hui hailed from a distinguished family, politically influential
and known especially for its expertise in law. His father, Zhong You
(d. 230), was one of the most powerful statesmen in the early Wei
regime and a noted calligrapher and Yijing expert as well. From the
start, Zhong Hui was groomed to follow in his father's footsteps.
Zhong Hui himself recounts that he began his formal education under
the guidance of his mother with the Xiaojing (Classic of Filial Piety)
at the age of three. He then studied the Analects, Shijing (Classic of
Poetry), Shujing (Book of Documents), the Yijing (with his father's
commentary), and other classics before he was sent to the imperial
academy to further his studies at the age of fourteen. The Zhong
family evidently held a special interest in the Yijing and the Laozi.
Zhong You had written on both, and Zhong Hui's mother was also a
dedicated student of the Laozi and the Yijing.
As Zhong Hui's biography in the Sanguozhi (History of the Three
Kingdoms) relates, he began his official career as an assistant in the
palace library during the Zhengshi era. Reputed for his wide learning
and skill in disputation, he was soon promoted to serve as a deputy
secretary at the Central Secretariat. At that time, Cao Shuang (d.
249) controlled the Wei court. On the intellectual front, many looked
to He Yan (d. 249) as their leader. Zhong Hui was then part of this
elite circle. He and Wang Bi (226–249), in particular, were singled
out as among the brightest and most promising of their generation.
(Wang Bi, of course, now occupies a hallowed place in the history of
Chinese philosophy as a brilliant interpreter of the Laozi and the
Yijing.)
The scene took a sudden change in 249 when Sima Yi (179–251)
successfully staged a coup that led to the death of Cao Shuang, He
Yan, and other members of their faction. After Sima Yi's death,
control of the Wei government came into the hands of his two sons,
Sima Shi (208–255) and Sima Zhao (211–265). In 265, the latter's son,
Sima Yan, (236–290) formally ended the reign of Wei and established
the Jin dynasty (265–420).
The fall of Cao Shuang and He Yan in 249 marked a turning point in Wei
politics. Zhong Hui managed to keep out of harm's way despite his
apparent association with the Cao faction. After 249, Zhong Hui was
able to retain his post at the Central Secretariat and soon became a
key member of the Sima regime. Rising from Palace Attendant to
Metropolitan Commandant, and to General of the Suppression of the West
in 262, Zhong Hui achieved remarkable success in the political arena.
In 263, in recognition of his role in the conquest of the rival
kingdom of Shu, he was made Chief Minister of Culture and Instruction,
one of the "Three Excellencies" of state. At the height of his power,
Zhong Hui considered his achievement to be unsurpassed in the world
and that he could no longer serve under anyone. Calculating that he
had control of a formidable army and that he could at least claim the
land of Shu even if he failed to conquer the entire country, Zhong Hui
decided to turn against the Sima government. He was killed by his own
troops in the first month of 264.
2. Zhong Hui's Laozi Learning
Few of Zhong Hui's writings have survived. A Zhong Hui ji (Collected
Works) in nine scrolls has been reported, but it is no longer extant.
He was also an accomplished poet; a few fragments of his poetry in the
fu (prose-poem) style have been preserved in various sources. Zhong
Hui seems to have written two essays on the Yijing, although little of
his Yijing learning can now be reconstructed. He was the author of a
commentary on the Laozi. He also contributed significantly to a debate
on the relationship between "capacity and nature" (caixing).
In early medieval China, caixing was one of the basic topics about
which every intellectual was expected to be able to say something. Fu
Jia (also pronounced Fu Gu, 209–255), who criticized He Yan during the
Zhengshi era and later acted as a major policy maker in the Sima
administration, is generally acknowledged to be the leading figure in
this debate. Zhong Hui, who became a junior associate of Fu Jia after
249, is said to have "collected and discussed" the latter's
deliberation on the "identity and difference of capacity and nature."
Zhong's work presents four views on the subject, including his own,
and is given the title Caixing siben lun (On the Four Roots of
Capacity and Nature). Despite its evident popularity in Wei-Jin China,
other than the general position of the four views and the individuals
who hold them, which will be introduced later, we have no further
knowledge of this work.
According to Du Guangting (850–933), He Yan, Wang Bi, and Zhong Hui
all attempted in their interpretation of the Laozi to make clear "the
way of ultimate emptiness and nonaction, and of governing the family
and the country." Unfortunately, Zhong Hui's Laozi commentary has been
lost, probably since the end of the Song dynasty (960-1279). Today, we
can only see glimpses of Zhong's Laozi learning through about 25
quotations from his commentary preserved in a number of sources.
When xuanxue became an established trend during the Jin dynasty, its
supporters looked back to the Zhengshi period rather nostalgically as
the "golden age" of philosophical debate and criticism. The concept of
wu—variously translated as "nothing," "nothingness," "nonbeing" or
"negativity"—is often singled out as the key to this new learning. As
the Jin scholar Wang Yan (256–311) puts it, "During the Zhengshi
period, He Yan, Wang Bi, and others propounded the teachings of Laozi
and Zhuangzi. They established the view that heaven and earth and the
myriad things are all rooted in wu." Zhong Hui was among the "others"
who sought to reformulate classical learning by focusing on the
mysterious Dao, on the basis of which government and society may be
restructured to establish lasting peace and order. What must be
emphasized is that xuanxue is not monolithic. The concept of wu
generates a new focus, but it is subject to interpretation, with
different ethical and political implications.
a. The "Nothingness" of Dao
The concept of wu fundamentally serves to bring out the mystery of
Dao, which is "nameless" and "formless," according to the Laozi, and
as such transcends language and sensory perception. As Zhong Hui
understands it, the Dao is "shadowy, dark, dim, and obscure; it is
therefore described as xuan" (commentary to Laozi 1). The Dao is also
described as "silent and void" in the Laozi. This means, Zhong
explains, that it is "empty and without substance" (comm. to Laozi
25).
Though formless and nameless, dark and mysterious, the Dao is
nonetheless said to be the "beginning" and "mother" of all things
(e.g., Laozi 1 and 42). Indeed, according to the Laozi, "All things
under heaven are born of you (something); you is born of wu (nothing)"
(ch. 40). This obviously requires explanation.
Life is essentially constituted by "vital energy" (qi). This can be
regarded as the generally accepted view in traditional China. Applied
to the Laozi, this suggests that the Dao should be understood as the
source of the essential qi that generated the yin and yang energies at
the "beginning." Through a process of further differentiation, the
created order then came into being. As the origin of the vital energy
or cosmic "pneuma" that makes life possible, the Dao is indeed
formless and nameless, and for this reason may be described as
"nothing" (wu), in the sense of not having any characteristics of
things. But, wu does not connote metaphysical "nonbeing,"
"negativity," or absence. Zhong Hui shares this view. In contrast,
Wang Bi emphasizes in his commentary on the Laozi that the
multiplicity of beings logically demands a prior ontological unity.
From this perspective, "Dao" does not refer to a kind of primordial,
undifferentiated substance, formless and of which nothing can be said;
rather, it signifies the necessary ground of being.
According to the Laozi, "Heaven models after the Dao. The Dao models
after what is naturally so (ziran)" (ch. 25). According to Zhong Hui,
the reason the Dao is described as ziran is that "no one knows whence
it comes." Moreover, the Laozi observes, "The great image does not
have any form" (ch. 41). The context suggests that the "great image"
is a metaphor for the Dao, and this is how Zhong Hui has understood
it: "There is no image that does not respond to it; this is what is
called the 'great image'. Since it does not have any bodily shape, how
can it have any form or appearance?" In these instances, the mystery
of Dao has little to do with "nonbeing" as an abstract concept, but
rather intimates the ever-existing and formless nature of the
generative force that brought forth heaven and earth and the myriad
beings.
The Dao is also called the "One," as Zhong Hui interprets the Laozi.
It is "ceaseless, indeed, yet it does not have any ties; overflowing,
yet it does not become diminished. Subtle and wondrous, it is
difficult to name it. In the end, it returns to a state of not being
anything (with discernible characteristics)" (comm. to Laozi 14; cf.
comm. to Laozi 39). Limitless and ultimately unfathomable, the Dao is
indeed "subtle and wondrous" and therefore "difficult to name," but it
is a real presence. The Laozi states that the Dao "stands on its own
and does not change." Zhong Hui explains, "Solitary, without a mate,
it is therefore said to be 'standing on its own'. From antiquity to
the present, it is always one and the same; thus it is stated, it
'does not change'" (comm. to Laozi 25). Further, the Laozi
specifically points out that the Dao "operates everywhere and is free
from danger" (ch. 25). Zhong Hui's commentary here reads: "There is no
place that the Dao is not present; it is (thus) described as
'operating everywhere'. Where it is present, it penetrates everything;
thus it is without danger."
For Zhong Hui, the concept of Dao thus explains from a cosmological
perspective the genesis of being and the emergence of order in the
cosmos. The Laozi may seem to privilege the concept of wu, to bring
out the indefinable fullness of the Dao, over the concept of you,
which subsumes under it the world of things, but in the final analysis
the two are interdependent in enabling the proper functioning of the
universe. Finding an apt illustration in a common mode of
transportation in early China, the Laozi thus announces in chapter 11
that "thirty spokes" join into one hub; but the use or function of the
wheel, and by extension the carriage or cart as a whole, is not so
much dependent on the solid spokes as the empty space within the hub.
Similarly, clay may be shaped and treated to make vessels, and doors
and windows cut out to make a room; but it is the "emptiness" of the
vessel or room that makes possible its use or function. "Therefore,"
the Laozi concludes, "having something (you) is what produces benefit,
(but) having nothing (wu) is what produces use."
To Zhong Hui, the Laozi makes use of these metaphors "to bring to
light that you and wu gain from each other, and neither can be
neglected …. Wu depends on you to become of benefit; you relies on wu
to be of use." The relationship between wu and you may be likened to
that between "interiority" (nei) and "externality" (wai)—concrete
objects are able to function and generate value externally because of
their inner capacity endowed by the Dao in the form of vital energies.
The interdependence of you and wu represents an intrinsic "law" in a
Dao-centered universe (comm. to Laozi 11). This has important ethical
implications.
b. Self-Cultivation, Great Peace, and the Nature of the Sage
Derived from the Dao, the world reflects a pristine order. In the
ideal Dao-centered world, filial love and respect, for example, would
be entirely spontaneous and thus unremarkable, which is why the Laozi
regards "filial piety" in the Confucian sense as a virtue that merits
praise and has to be perfected if not acquired as having arisen only
after the decline of the Dao (Laozi 18). Deliberate effort at bringing
love and respect into the world, in other words, proves necessary only
after natural filial affection has been lost. Thus Zhong Hui writes,
"If the nine generations of the family are all in accord, then love
and respect will have no cause to be applied. 'When the six relations
are not in harmony' [as the Laozi phrases it], then filial piety and
compassion will become conspicuous." The concept of "naturalness"
(ziran), in this sense, involves not only the regularity of natural
processes and the plenitude of nature but also a perceived "natural"
harmony and order in the social arena.
The pristine Dao-derived order has been lost. The aim of xuanxue is to
restore this order. For Zhong Hui, the process of recovery begins with
self-cultivation, which requires careful tending of one's qi-energy.
According to Zhong Hui, "the soul manages and protects its form and
qi, so as to enable it to last long." This is why the Laozi urges the
people to "look after the soul and embrace the One" (comm. to Laozi
10).
Aligned with the yin-yang, cosmological theory, the idea that human
beings are constituted spiritually and physically by qi was well
established by the third century. No bifurcation of "soul" and "body"
is implied. Both are constituted by qi, although the "qi of the blood"
may be less "pure" when compared with the more subtle qi of the soul
or spirit. In this context, self-cultivation involves both nourishing
and purifying the vital qi-energy.
Chapter 12 of the Laozi warns that the "five colors cause one's eyes
to become blind," and of the other harmful effects that stem from
indulging in one's senses. The Laozi concludes: "For this reason the
sage is for the belly and not for the eyes." Emphasizing the
importance of self-cultivation, Zhong Hui relates this to the being of
the ideal sage: "The genuine vital energy pervades (the sage's) inner
being; thus it is said, (he is) 'for the belly'. Externally, desires
have been eliminated; thus, it is said, 'not for the eyes'."
Here, the complementarity of the "inner" and the "outer" again guides
Zhong Hui's interpretation. The sage is always mindful of his
qi-nature in everything he does and certainly does not live to satisfy
the senses. On the opening sentence of Laozi 16—"Attain utmost
emptiness; maintain complete tranquility"—Zhong Hui again stresses
this point: "… eliminate emotions and worries to reach the ultimate of
emptiness. The mind is always quiet, so as to maintain complete
tranquility."
Self-cultivation translates into certain effects or ways of doing
things at both the personal and political levels. The Laozi states:
"The yielding and weak will overcome the hard and strong" (ch. 36). In
this same chapter, the Laozi elaborates, "If you would have a thing
shrink, stretch it first." Zhong Hui comments: "If one wishes to
control the hard and strong, one assumes the appearance of being
submissive and weak. Stretch it first; shrink it afterward—win or
lose, (the outcome) is certain." In chapter 22, the Laozi brings out
the central Daoist insight that preservation or fulfillment does not
lie in self-aggrandizement or aggressive action but in self-effacement
and non-contention, in embracing humility and the way of
"yieldingness." "If one is truly able to keep being yielding," Zhong
Hui reasons, then "everything will certainly return to him"—that is to
say, all successes and benefits will as a matter of course belong to
him. In the ideal Dao-centered world, this would describe the being of
the sage-ruler, who abides by naturalness, acts with "nonaction"
(wuwei) in the sense of yieldingness, and whose inner tranquility
would ensure the absence of selfish desire and the flourishing of the
realm.
The sage is someone who possesses "superior virtue," as the Laozi
describes it. Zhong Hui explains: "(He who) embodies the wondrous and
subtle spirit to preserve the transformations (of nature) is (the man
of) superior virtue" (comm. to Laozi 38). In the government of the
sage, penal laws and punishment do not apply, for the sage is able to
transform the people through nonaction, guiding them to regain their
natural simplicity (comm. to Laozi 19). This is the reign of "great
peace" (taiping) as envisaged by the majority of xuanxue scholars, in
which virtues would naturally abound and family relations would be in
complete harmony. Can great peace be attained? There is no question
that a sage can realize the taiping ideal; but is it the case that
sages alone can bring about great peace? Can it not be realized by
worthy and able rulers and ministers, who are committed to the way of
the sage but are not sages? Zhong Hui could not but be concerned with
this question, which began to surface during the Han period and
continued to attract debate during the early years of the Wei dynasty.
In fact, Zhong Hui's father, Zhong You, asserts unequivocally that
sages are necessary for the realization of great peace.
The role of the sage in realizing great peace presupposes a prior
understanding of the nature of the sage. Is "sagehood" inborn, or can
it be acquired through effort? This was a major topic of discussion
also among the Wei elite. The prevalent view in early xuanxue seems to
be that sages are born, not made, a view to which Zhong Hui subscribes
and which stems directly from a cosmological understanding of the Dao,
particularly the deciding role of qi in shaping the nature and destiny
of human beings.
In a cosmological interpretation, the Dao informs all beings, provides
them with a "share" of its potent energy, which accounts for their
lifespan, capacity, and all other aspects of their being. Sages are
exceptional beings, whose qi-endowment is extraordinarily pure and
abundant. On this basis, He Yan, for example, thus argues that "sages
do not have emotions," which attracted a substantial following during
the Zhengshi period. Zhong Hui was drawn to He Yan's view and is said
to have developed it in his own thinking. As the Sanguozhi relates,
"He Yan maintained that the sage does not have pleasure and anger, or
sorrow and joy. His views were extremely cogent, on which Zhong Hui
and others elaborated."
Emotions are "impure" qi-agitations that disturb the mind and render
impossible the work of sagely government. The sage, blessed with the
finest and richest energy that arises from the "One," is free from
such qi-imperfections, which enables him to be absolutely impartial
and to realize great peace not only within himself but also in
government. The sage, in other words, is utterly different from
ordinary human beings. On this view, this is a basic difference in
qi-constitution, which amounts to a difference in kind and not in
degree. "Sagehood," in other words, should be understood in terms of a
sage nature that is inborn and not an accomplished goal that is
attainable through learning and effort.
If Zhong Hui is of the view that sage nature is inborn, why does he
emphasize self-cultivation to fortify the qi within and to eliminate
desires? As we have seen also, Zhong Hui affirms that the "soul," if
properly managed and protected, can "last long." Does this show that
he believes in the existence of "immortals" (xian) and that it is
possible to attain immortality? In a fu poem on the chrysanthemum
(Juhuafu), Zhong Hui writes, "Thus, the chrysanthemum … [if ingested]
flows within and renders the body light; it is the food of immortals."
Further, in the same poem, Zhong rhapsodizes, "Those who ingest it
would live long, and those who consume it would find their spirit
unobstructed." Zhong Hui has also written a fu on grapes (Putaofu), in
which he describes the fruit as "having embodied the finest qi in
nature."
It is not surprising that Zhong Hui accepts the existence of
immortals, which was a widely held belief at that time. Whether it is
an immortal or a sage, the same reasoning applies. Only a select few
are endowed at birth with the necessary qi-condition to develop into a
sage or immortal. An ordinary human being cannot learn to become a
sage, who is a different kind of being, but self-cultivation remains
important because it is possible to nourish and purify one's
qi-endowment by means of certain substances and practices. In other
words, although complete "transcendence" may be beyond reach, one can
remove obstacles to personal fulfillment, prevent corruption of one's
nature, and ensure that one's capacity is developed to the fullest.
The idea that only sages can realize great peace is grounded in this
conception of the nature of the sage. If one believes, as Zhong Hui
does, that the sage is of a special breed, absolutely pure and without
cognitive-affective qi-disturbances, it would not make much sense to
say that even those who are not sages could realize the reign of great
peace. The uniqueness of the sage would then be inconsequential. Zhong
Hui would thus agree with his father that great peace is an ideal
realizable only by sages. Opposed to this is the view that it is
possible to attain great peace even without the intervention of sages.
What is crucial is that we learn from the ancient sages. If able and
worthy individuals such as Yi Yin of the Shang dynasty and Yan Yuan
(Yan Hui), the exemplary disciple of Confucius, were entrusted with
governing the country, and if their policies would continue for
several generations, then great peace may be realized.
From this latter perspective, the difference between a sage such as
Confucius and worthies such as Yan Yuan is a matter of degree.
Moreover, this implies that we can learn from the sages and worthies,
which signals a particular Confucian approach to government and
education. Benevolent government requires men of integrity and talent
to serve the public good. Education is necessary to transmit the
teaching of the sages and to lay a strong moral foundation. Care and
compassion are required in the administration of justice. Step by
step, with rulers and ministers serving as examples, the
transformative power of Confucian virtues would instill benevolence
and propriety in the hearts of the people or at least render them
willing and obedient subjects. In this way, lasting order and peace
may be secured.
Both camps considered Confucius to be the ideal sage. But whereas to
some, Confucius was a great teacher, to others he embodied the best of
heaven and earth. It would be impossible to be like Confucius in every
respect, according to the latter; the assertion that great peace could
be realized by able and worthy men would undermine the supra-mundane
status of Confucius, who was such an exalted figure as to exclude the
possibility of someone else matching his attainment. The sage is
fundamentally different from "mere" mortals, and the sage alone can
realize lasting peace. This implies a certain distrust of the nature
and capacity of the people, who are driven by desires. It is important
thus to curb one's desires and to maintain tranquility. But this, too,
can only be achieved by a few. For the majority, laws and models are
necessary. They serve as the "outer" instruments that would complement
the call to embrace "emptiness" within.
The concept of "law" (fa) is not limited to criminal justice. It
concerns proper rulership and sociopolitical order at large. The
principles of government must be clearly delineated for the rule of
law to apply. In particular, the various duties and functions of
officials must be carefully defined, so that there is accountability
and quality control. Precisely because great peace can be realized
only by sages, and given that sages are rare, government should depend
on laws and processes, as opposed to individuals, so that official
positions and duties would be occupied and performed by the right
persons, laws and punishment would be appropriate, and in all aspects
the "inner" and the "outer" would attain their proper balance.
3. The Debate on Capacity and Nature
Although the evidence at our disposal is limited, a consistent
approach emerges from the surviving fragments of Zhong Hui's Laozi
commentary. Guided by a hermeneutic that equates the nothingness of
Dao with the fullness of qi, Zhong Hui probes the basis of personal
well-being and sociopolitical order. The pristine order of the Dao is
characterized by intrinsic laws and standards, which ensure the smooth
functioning of the cosmos and the integrity of sociopolitical
institutions. Order would flourish in this ideal world, and remedial
action would be superfluous. In a world where the Dao has declined,
only a true sage can realize genuine order and peace. In the absence
of a sage-ruler, due process is required to ensure sound governance,
social stability and that justice prevails. In the context of early
Wei politics, the system of official appointment would be of
particular concern to those who seek to reestablish the rule of Dao.
In this context, the debate on capacity and nature may be understood.
Zhong Hui is particularly noted for his contribution to this debate,
which involves four positions—namely, that capacity and nature are the
same (tong); that they are different (yi); that they coincide (he);
and that they diverge from each other (li).
Fu Jia apparently initiated the debate by arguing for the first
position. The second is represented by Li Feng (d. 254), who was
Director of the Central Secretariat and whom Fu Jia denounced as
pretentious and false. Zhong Hui held the third view, and Wang Guang
(d. 251), who like Zhong Hui was a junior officer during the Zhengshi
period, argued for the last position. Zhong Hui's treatise, however,
was no longer available by the early sixth century.
It has been suggested that the debate should be understood in terms of
the political struggles between the Cao faction and the Sima faction
during the Zhengshi period. Whereas Fu Jia and Zhong Hui (before his
attempted revolt) sided with the Sima regime, both Li Feng and Wang
Guang were struck down by it. This is an important observation.
However, philosophically, what does it mean to say that capacity and
nature are the same? In what sense can they be said to "coincide"?
The first position seems relatively straightforward in the light of
the concept of qi. Inborn nature can be understood in terms of one's
innate capacity, which encompasses one's physical, intellectual,
moral, psychological, and spiritual endowments. In Fu Jia's account,
both capacity and nature are seen to be determined by qi-endowment.
Whereas nature is the inner substance, capacity reaches outward and
translates into ability as well as moral conduct. This view finds
eloquent support in the Caixing lun (Treatise on Capacity and Nature)
by another third-century scholar, Yuan Zhun. All beings that exist in
heaven and earth, according to Yuan, can be either excellent or of a
bad quality. Whereas the former is endowed with a "pure qi," the
latter is constituted by a "turbid energy." It is like a piece of
wood, Yuan adds: whether it is crooked or straight is a matter of
nature, on the basis of which it has a certain capacity that can be
made to serve particular ends. The same is true for human beings, who
may be "worthy" or "unworthy" by nature. To argue that nature and
capacity are the same, Fu Jia cannot but maintain also that sagacity
is inborn.
Li Feng counters that capacity and nature are different. Fu Jia had
misconstrued the relationship between capacity and nature, because
whereas nature may be inborn, capacity is shaped by learning. This
suggests that any accomplishment, moral or political, is ultimately
dependent on effort. Fu Jia is evidently committed to affirming that a
person may be born good or bad, strong or weak, bright or dull,
depending on his or her qi-endowment. Li Feng's counterview, however,
proceeds on the premise that nature is "neutral" or unmarked, morally
and in all other respects. What is endowed at birth is simply the
biological apparatus to grow and to learn, but the person one becomes
is a matter of learning and putting into practice the teachings of the
sages. Yu Huan, a third-century historian, provides a helpful analogy:
the effect of learning on a person is like adding color to a piece of
plain silk. This should align with the view that sagehood can be
achieved through effort and that sages are not necessary to realizing
great peace, given the perceived transformative power of learning.
Zhong Hui's position may be seen as an attempt to mediate between
these two opposing views. Given Zhong Hui's understanding of qi and
the nature of the sage, he would obviously side with Fu Jia in this
debate. Yet, the "identity" thesis seems to assume that what is
endowed is both necessary and sufficient. Although native endowment is
necessary for realized capacity, Zhong Hui is saying, it is not
sufficient. Thus, when capacity is said to "coincide" with nature,
Zhong Hui is in effect proposing that what is endowed is potential,
which must be carefully nurtured and brought to completion. For
immortals and sages, who are different in kind because of their
exceptional qi-endowment, what is inner in the sense of innate
capacity naturally manifests itself completely in extraordinary
achievements. For ordinary human beings, however, nature does not
amount to actual ability but only furnishes certain dispositions or
directions of development. To be sure, if the native endowment is
extremely poor, there is not much that can be done. Nevertheless, the
real challenge to the identity thesis is that an excellent endowment
may go to waste because the person succumbs to desire and would not
learn. The inner provides the capital, but it requires external
control to maintain its value, to generate profit, and to bring the
investment to a successful close.
In response to Li Feng's critique of Fu Jia, Zhong Hui thus offers a
modified identity thesis that takes into account the place of learning
and effort. Although having the "right stuff," as it were, is not
sufficient, one must have some material to begin with in order to
achieve the desired result. Thus, it cannot be said that the latter
has nothing to do with the former. In this context, Wang Guang adds a
fourth view, which is stronger than Li Feng's and appears to be
directed especially against Zhong Hui's position. Inborn nature does
not provide the necessary fertile ground for cultivation; rather, it
needs to be rectified by learning. Human beings are naturally driven
by desire and therefore must rely on rituals and instruction to become
responsible individuals. In this sense, capacity and nature do not
"coincide" but "diverge" from each other.
The debate on caixing demonstrates the richness and complexity of
xuanxue. The debate may have particular political relevance, but it
presupposes an understanding of the origin and structure of the
cosmos, the role of self-cultivation, the rule of law, the nature of
the sage, and other issues central to Wei-Jin thought. The four views
engage one another in coming to terms with the basis of goodness and
other forms of excellence. Zhong Hui's view on capacity and nature is
consistent with his interpretation of the Laozi, both of which should
be recognized as a major contribution to xuanxue philosophy. Had he
not attempted to topple the Sima regime, or more precisely had he not
failed in that attempt, no doubt his writings would have been
preserved and given the attention they justly deserve.
4. References and Further Reading
* Berkowitz, Alan J. Patterns of Disengagement: the Practice and
Portrayal of Reclusion in Early Medieval China. Stanford: Stanford
University Press, 2000.
* Cai, Zong-qi, ed. Chinese Aesthetics: The Ordering of
Literature, the Arts, and the Universe in the Six Dynasties. Honolulu:
University of Hawaii Press, 2004.
* Chan, Alan K. L. Two Visions of the Way. Albany: State
University of New York Press, 1991.
* Chan, Alan K. L. "The Essential Meaning of the Way and Virtue:
Yan Zun and 'Laozi Learning' in Early Han China." Monumenta Serica 46
(1998): 105–127.
* Chan, Alan K. L. "The Daodejing and Its Tradition." In Daoism
Handbook, ed. Livia Kohn (Leiden: E.J. Brill, 2000), 1–29.
* Chan, Alan K. L. "Zhong Hui's Laozi Commentary and the Debate on
Capacity and Nature in Third-Century China." Early China 28 (2003):
101–159.
* Chan, Alan K. L. "What are the 'Four Roots of Capacity and
Nature?" In Wisdom in China and the West, eds. Vincent Shen and
Willard Oxtoby (Washington: Council for Research in Values and
Philosophy, 2004), 143–184.
* Chan, Wing-tsit, trans. The Way of Lao Tzu. Indianapolis:
Bobbs-Merrill, 1963.
* Henricks, Robert. Philosophy and Argumentation in Third Century
China: The Essays by Hsi K'ang. Princeton: Princeton University Press,
1983.
* Holzman, Donald. Poetry and Politics: The Life and Works of Juan
Chi (210-263). Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1976.
* Holzman, Donald. La vie et la pensée de Hi Kang (223-262 AP.
J.-C.). Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1957.
* Knechtges, David R., trans. Wen xuan, or Selections of Refined
Literature. 3 vols. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1982–1996.
* Kohn, Livia. Early Chinese Mysticism: Philosophy and Soteriology
in the Taoist Tradition. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1992.
* Lynn, Richard J., trans. The Classic of Changes: A New
Translation of the I Ching as Interpreted by Wang Bi. New York:
Columbia University Press, 1994.
* Lynn, Richard J., trans. The Classic of the Way and Virtue: A
New Translation of the Tao-te ching of Laozi as Interpreted by Wang
Bi. New York: Columbia University Press, 1999.
* Mather, Richard B. "The Controversy over Conformity and
Naturalness during the Six Dynasties." History of Religions 9
(1969–70): 160–180.
* Mather, Richard B., trans. Shih-shuo Hsin-yü: A New Account of
Tales of the World, by Liu I-ch'ing. Minneapolis: University of
Minnesota Press, 1976.
* Robinet, Isabelle. Les commentaires du Tao to king jusqu'au VIIe
siècle. Paris: Presses Universitaires de France, 1977.
* Shih, Vincent Y. C., trans. The Literary Mind and the Carving of
Dragons. Hong Kong: Chinese University Press, 1983.
* Shryock, J. K., trans. The Study of Human Abilities: The Jen Wu
Chih of Liu Shao. American Oriental Series, vol. 11. New Haven:
American Oriental Society, 1937; reprint, New York, 1966.
* Tang, Yongtong. "Wang Bi's New Interpretation of the I Ching and
the Lun-yü." Trans.Walter Liebenthal. Harvard Journal of Asiatic
Studies 10 (1947): 124–161.
* Wagner, Rudolf G. The Craft of a Chinese Commentator: Wang Bi on
the Laozi. Albany: State University of New York Press, 2000.
* Wagner, Rudolf G. Language, Ontology, and Political Philosophy
in China: Wang Bi's Scholarly Exploration of the Dark (Xuanxue).
Albany: State University of New York Press, 2003.
* Wagner, Rudolf G., trans. A Chinese Reading of the Daodejing:
Wang Bi's Commentary on the Laozi with Critical Text and Translation.
Albany: State University of New York Press, 2003.
* Yates, Robin D. S., trans. Five Lost Classics: Tao, Huanglao,
and Yin-Yang in Han China. New York: Ballantine Books, 1997.
* Yü, Ying-shih. "Individualism and the Neo-Taoist Movement in
Wei-Chin China." In Individualism and Holism: Studies in Confucian and
Taoist Values, ed. Donald J. Munro (Ann Arbor: Center for Chinese
Studies, University of Michigan, 1985), 121–155.
* Ziporyn, Brook. The Penumbra Unbound: the Neo-Taoist Philosophy
of Guo Xiang. Albany: State University of New York Press, 2003.
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