MEDITATIONS: ZHUANGZI, CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Robber Zhi

Anyone interested enough in philosophy to stumble upon these humble meditations is more likely than the average person to suffer the strange ailment that is an excess of responsibility. At least, at the time of writing, I suffer this attitude personally. I often sacrifice my health and my mental well-being for the sake of discipline which itself is supposed to be a means to health and peace of mind. I am, as the Lushichunqiu describes (quoting from the Zhuangzi footnotes, p. 249):

“a man who cuts off his head in exchange for a hat.” (Lü Buwei, chapter 128, “Examination of What Matters”)

But why is that? What would drive a man—what drives me—to cling to what the Confucians would called responsible conduct even in opposition to the spirit of the supposed virtue? Robber Zhi seems to think he has the answer, and from the Toaist perspective, Confucius almost agree with him.

But before we hear Zhi’s argument, listen first to the character of the man who is about to strike a deathblow at the heart of Confucian responsible conduct:

This Robber Zhi had been rampaging through the known world with a private militia of nine thousand men, invading and pillaging the territories of the feudal lords, absconding with other men’s livestock as well as their wives and daughters, making empty shells of their homes with only the doors left swinging on their hinges. (Zhuangzi 238)

Indeed, this Zhi is a barbarian warlord akin to one of the Khans. Make no mistake, his conduct is evil beyond question—but that isn’t what we’re asking here. What we want to know is what this vicious tyrant has to say in criticism of those people whom he terrorizes and who judge him a less than them.

Zhi’s critique comes in the form of a rebuttal against the sly advances of Confucius who seeks to bring Robber Zhi into the fold of nobles that he might become domesticated. At first glance, this seems an excellent tact for a sage to take. However, Zhi is not merely a simpleton to be bamboozled with verbal subtleties. But see for yourselves the course of their conversation:

Confucius: “If you, generalissimo, are inclined to listen to your humble servant here, I beg to be allowed to go south as your ambassador to Wu and Yue, north to Qi and Lu, east to Song and Wei, west to Jin and Chu, and to convince them to build a great walled territory for you . . . establishing in it cities of several tens of thousands of households, to officially honor you there as a legitimate feudal lord. . . .”

“Get over here, Qiu!” said Robber Zhi, utterly enraged. “Anyone who can be regulated with promises of profit and admonished with slick words is what I would call a stupid, ignorant, ordinary sort of person. . . . When you tell me all about the great territory and multitude of subjects I will have, you are trying to regulate me with promises of profit and make me tame like an ordinary person. How could any of that last?” (240)

Zhi then goes on to list numerous historical cases of other “great” men who fell for such promises and were ultimately destroyed by them because those men martyred their intrinsic natures for external wealth and fame. Zhi’s list is later summarized in the text thusly:

Be neither a petty person
Who, turning within, martyrs himself to the Heavenly in him,
Nor a noble person,
Who follows instead the coherent guidelines of Heaven.
Whether being crooked or upright, whether bent or straight,
Let each be the Heavenly pivot of the other,
Scanning at once all four directions, ebbing and flowing with the times.
Whether affirming or negating, whether right or wrong,
Hold also to your all-around omnidirectional impulse.
Fulfilling in your aloneness your own solitary aspiration,
Meander back and forth with the Course.
Don’t control your conduct,
Or perfectly fulfill you responsibilities,
Or you will lose what you’re really aiming for.
Don’t dash after your precious riches,
Or martyr yourself to your successes,
Or you will have abandoned the real heaven in you.
Bi Gan’s heart was cut out of his chest.
Wu Zixu’s eyes were gouged from their sockets.
These are the disasters that come from too much loyalty.
Upright Gong informed on his own father,
Wei Sheng drowned to death.
These are the troubles that come from being too trustworthy.
Bao Jiao dehydrated to death where he stood,
Shentu Jia buried himself in the river.
These are the harms that come from being too incorruptible.
Confucius would not see his own mother,
Kuangzi would not see his own father.
These are the losses that come from too much rectitude.
All of these instances were passed down from the former ages
And are still talked about by later ages. (245-6)

I hope you will forgive the extensive quote, but the first half gives needed context to Zhi’s relationship to what he is criticizing: and what he critiques is a stultified assumption of moral correctness. Confucius thinks he knows the way and what is right, and therefore moves to subdue Zhi with confusion. But what is good according to Confucius may very well run counter to the nature of Robber Zhi. Now, we might say that Zhi is evil and that his downfall is justified. However, that doesn’t change the fact that what Confucius suggests is a trap. Zhi seems to be right that it is in fact out of accord with the Great Course for him to surrender himself for promises of wealth and status. Perhaps that means he remains a villain for others to defeat—and those who best him have that as part of their own intrinsic nature.

The point of this argument is that often, moral strictures and discipline are just a way for people to seek wealth, status, or some other external goal. Zhi even accuses Confucius of this, saying:

“And now you come along practicing the Course of King Wen and King Wu, taking hold of all the disputations in the world in order to instruct future generations, using your sewed garment and your narrow belt, your scolding words and your hypocritical deeds to confuse the rulers of the world and eke out some wealth and rank for yourself.” (241)

And Zhi isn’t wrong. If fact, his admonishment of Confucius applies equally well to us, we who martyr ourselves for success. We follow strict disciple even to our detriment on promises of power, wealth, fame, and affection. We become worshippers of the outcome, which is a straying from the Path. No wonder we dash ourselves headlong into disaster. By seeking to control external factors, we become controlled by them. Instead of setting a standard for ourselves born of ourselves, we let the happen stance nature of our time, place, and societal status determine who it is we go about existence: we become the very sort of person of whom Robber Zhi spoke so scornfully.

But just in case Zhi’s speech did not ring true to you, perhaps Harmony Savant’s explanation to his debate partner Insatiable will prove more convincing:

Insatiable asked Harmony Savant, “In the end there is no one who does not strive to establigh reputation and to gain riches. . . . To see other people submitting themselves to him and esteeming him above themselves is the Course that prolongs his life, eases his body, and satisfies his heart and mind! . . .

Harmony Savant said, “That kind of person you were describing believes that those born in the same age and living in the same village as himself regard him as a distinguished man who has soared above convention and transcended his age. But that just means that he is devoid of a controlling standard of his own, for his way of evaluating past and present ages and divisions between right and wrong is transformed and convention transforms.” (246)

In other words, our will—my will—to see myself as an intelligent, fit, healthy, disciplined individual is merely my desire to transcend those people around me whom I deem as stupid, lowly, pathetic, weak, disgusting, or even just common or average. That is not a measure born of my own intrinsic virtuosities, but a relative standard that turns against me the moment I compare myself with someone more successful in the relevant domains.

The terrible truth is that I ought to take the advice of Harmony Savant and Robber Zhi, to recognize that I am just as guilty as Confucius. That my seeking after wisdom is contaminated with desires for influence and admiration.

But what to do about it? I can only conclude that to return to the Path, one must take his eyes off the goal at the end and direct his desires toward the process itself. I must remember to appreciate the journey, that study and creativity are rewards in and of themselves.

Zhuangzi. Zhuangzi; The Complete Writings, translated by Brook Ziporyn, Hackett Publishing Company Inc., 2020