There has been an impressive revival of the ethics of virtue, or virtue ethics, in contemporary philosophy during the last a few decades, as a challenge to the ethics of duty (particularly that of Immanuel Kant) and consequentialism (particularly Jeremy Bentham's and John Stuart Mill's utilitarianism) that have dominated modern discourses of ethics. In contrast to the latter, which focuses on action guided by rules or consideration of consequences, virtue ethics emphasizes the cultivation of the moral disposition of the agent. The problem with modern ethical theories of rules, as perceived by advocates of virtue ethics, is that they “deal only with reasons, with values, with what justifies. They fail to examine motives and the motivational structures and constraints of ethical life” (Stocker Reference Stocker, Crisp and Slote1997, 66). In contrast, the advantage of virtue ethics, as pointed out by Michael Slote, an influential advocate of contemporary virtue ethics, is that instead of moral laws, rules, and principles, “in virtue ethics, the focus is on the virtuous individual and on those inner traits, dispositions, and motives that qualify her as being virtuous” (1997, 177; see also Hursthouse Reference Hursthouse1999, 3).

While there are still serious objections and strong resistance to virtue ethics from defenders of modern moral theories,Footnote ¹ virtue ethics becomes increasingly attractive to many moral theorists. To use Rosalind Hursthouse's words, it is not merely “a new kid on block,” but has also established “its right to run with the big boys,” as it “has acquired full status, recognized as a rival to the two dominating moral theories (1999, 2). Many attempts have been made to explore the potential of virtue ethics in Asian philosophical and religious traditions. For example, Nicholas F. Gier, among others, tries to develop a Hindu virtue ethics (see Gier Reference Gier2004, chaps. 1–3; Reference Gier, Sherma and Deepak2005). Damien Keown Reference Keown(1992, Reference Keown1996) is a pioneer in exploring a Buddhist virtue ethics. For understandable reasons, approaching the Confucian tradition from the virtue ethics perspective has almost become a fashion (see Sim Reference Sim2007; Van Norden Reference Van Norden2007; Yu Reference Yu2007). However, little attention has been paid to the virtue ethics potential in Chinese Daoism (for one article still in the form of a manuscript, see Yearley Reference Yearley2007).

In this essay, I attempt to explore the possibility of a Daoist virtue ethics in the Zhuangzi, one of the most intriguing Daoist texts. While there are varieties of virtue ethics, one thing in common is its emphasis on the naturalness, effortlessness, ease, and joyfulness of an agent in performing moral actions. This strikes an immediate resonance in the Daoist sage described by the Zhuangzi. The main difference among the various contemporary forms of virtue ethics lies in their different accounts of what constitutes a virtue. Two such accounts are particularly influential. One is the eudemonistic account in the Aristotelian tradition (see Hursthouse Reference Hursthouse1999), and another is the intuitionist account in the Humean tradition (see Slote Reference Slote1992, Reference Slote, Baron, Pettit and Slote1997, Reference Slote2001). The former explains virtue as the character traits that contribute to human flourishing, while the latter describes it as the character traits that are simply admirable. Because the eudemonistic account is inseparable from a moral conception of human nature, which is absent in the Zhuangzi, this essay will largely follow the intuitionist account of the virtue in exploring the possibility of a virtue ethics in the Zhuangzi.

As a philosophical text, the Zhuangzi is strong in telling interesting stories rather than providing tight arguments, which is why many claim that it lacks any ethics, to say nothing of a virtue ethics. However, it is my contention that there is an ethics in these stories, or at least that those who have an interest in ethics can learn a great deal from reading these stories. Particularly, I will pay close attention to two clusters of such stories, the knack stories and the difference stories. While the latter imply rules of virtue ethics, the former tell us how to follow such rules to become virtuous. I shall first argue why any attempt to derive a virtue ethics directly from knack stories, while certainly tempting, will fail, how moral rules implied from difference stories are necessary for a Daoist virtue ethics, and how one can become virtuous under the guidance of such rules of virtue ethics. I shall conclude with a brief summary of the main thesis of this essay.

Problem in Deriving a Virtue Ethics Directly from Knack Stories

In exploring the possibility of a virtue ethics in the Zhuangzi, one is naturally attracted by the so-called knack stories. These stories describe masters who, like autopilots (Fox Reference Fox and Barnhart2002, 83), perform their activities with great ease. The most famous of such stories is the one about Cook Ding carving an ox: “At every touch of his hand, every movement of his shoulders, every step of his foot, and every nudge of his knees, there is a sound of the knife slicing the flesh, a perfect rhythm that matches the Dance of Mulberry Trees and the music of Jingshou in the time of Sage Yao” (Zhuangzi 3.117–18). Seeing Lord Wenhui amazed, Cook Ding relates his experience thus:

There are many similar knack stories in the outer chapters.Footnote ² For example, there is one about Wheelwright Pian, who, after many years of practice, can cut a wheel neither too quickly (so that it will not be too loose) nor too slowly (so that it will not be too tight), but at the right speed (so that it will fit just right). Talking about his wheel-making knack, Pian states, “I do well with my hands and feel it in my heart. I cannot put it into words, but there is indeed some knack in it. I am unable to teach my son about this, and my son has not been able to learn it from me” (Zhuangzi 13.491). Chapter 19, Dasheng, presents a whole chain of such knack stories, such as those about swimmers, boatmen, cicada catchers, and, above all, Carpenter Ziqing, whose bell frame is so wonderfully made that it appears to come from the hand of a spirit. Explaining his knack at making bell frames, the carpenter tells us that only when he can gradually concentrate his mind after many days of fasting of mind does he “enter a mountain forest to observe the natural quality of the wood (guan dian xing 觀天性). . . . Here I match my natural disposition with the natural structure of the trees (yi tian he tian 以天合天)” (Zhuangzi 19.658–59).

As these stories tell us so much about spontaneity, naturalness, gracefulness, effortlessness, and joyfulness—characteristics of all admirable actions—some Zhuangzi scholars believe that the actions described in such stories are already virtuous or morally admirable. For example, Alan Fox, presenting what he regards as Zhuangzi's “concrete ethics,” claims that Zhuangzi's ethics is “a kind of ‘virtue ethics’ … which demands, not adherence to an ethical formula, but rather development of one's character” (2002, 80). In Fox's view, just as in a virtue epistemology, which he also attributes to Zhuangzi, truth is what the true person knows, so in virtue ethics, good is what the good person does. To support his view, he cites the same story of Cook Ding (Fox Reference Fox and Barnhart2002, 82; see also Graham Reference Graham and Mair1983, 7). Along the same line, P. J. Ivanhoe discerns his version of Zhuangzian ethics in the knack stories about Cook Ding, Carpenter Ziqing, and Wheelwright Pian:

There is no denying that all of these skillful persons are presented as positive and exemplary figures in the knack stories. The question is whether these skillful persons are exemplary figures merely for those in their respective trades or for human beings in general, and whether the way they understand is merely the way to perform their respective actions or also the way to be ethical. A marathon winner who runs gracefully, effortlessly, and joyfully is certainly admirable but is not morally admirable, or so I shall claim. Ivanhoe argues that these skillful persons are morally exemplified or admirable persons: “Zhuangzi's examples of skillful individuals have more to reveal; looking at them closely we notice that they all describe quite benign activities. There are no skillful assassins or pickpockets among his Daoist sages” (1993, 651). In a later work coauthored with Karen Carr, Ivanhoe acknowledges that “Zhuangzi is not recommending that we do what these skillful people do” (2000, 36). However, Ivanhoe still thinks that (1) all these skillful activities are “benign activities”; (2) “distinctive features shared by these exemplars … do place definite restrictions on the range of appropriate activities”; and (3) by imagination, people of different occupations can get inspiration from such stories about how to do their things appropriately, as Zhuangzi “is encouraging us to be as they are, to live as they live” (Carr and Ivanhoe Reference Carr and Ivanhoe2000, 36).

The question, then, is how to be as these masters are and to live as these masters do. Referring to the knack stories narrated in the Zhuangzi, for example, Christian Helmut Wenzel complains that they “only teach us how to reach a certain goal once the goal is set. They do not show us which goal we should accept and set for ourselves” (Reference Wenzel2003, 119). In Wenzel's view, the Zhuangzi “might teach us to be a good” thief or professional killer in the same way that it teaches us to be a good cook—that is, effortlessly, delightfully, spontaneously, and at great ease in stealing and killing (2003, 119). Robert Eno reaches the same conclusion that “the dao of butchering people might provide much the same spiritual spontaneity as the dao of butchering oxen—as many a samurai might testify” (1996, 142). Chad Hansen also thinks that the ethics in the Zhuangzi does not allow us to condemn Hitler: “All it says is ‘Hitler happened’” (Reference Hansen1992, 290).

Ivanhoe, however, thinks that Zhuangzi's ethics as expressed in the knack stories is ethically normative and thus avoids such problems. In his view, in these examples,

For Ivanhoe, the reason these masters' actions are exemplary is that they accord with the large patterns and processes of the Dao. When consistent with this large pattern, Cook Ding can carve ox, Carpenter Ziqing can cut trees, and the cicada catchers can catch cicadas, as long as these actions do not make it impossible for other creatures to flourish and do not disrupt the balance or harmony among all creatures in the world. These are all interesting points, but a few things deserve further exploration.

First, Zhuangzi does urge us to take the perspective of heaven or Dao. The question is how this proper perspective is related to the perspective of a tree, a fish, or a deer. Zhuangzi makes this clear in his discussion of the piping of heaven in relation to the piping of earth and the piping of humans (Zhuangzi 2.49–50). The perspectives of tree, fish, and deer may be regarded as different pipings of earth, while the perspectives of individual persons may be regarded as different pipings of humans. What is the piping of heaven? In Zhuangzi's view, it is not a piping additional to and normative of those of earth and humans, just as a conductor does not play an instrument additional to and normative of those played by members of his or her orchestra. Instead, the piping of heaven is simply to let each of the pipings of the earth and of humans be its own, without imposing on others, just as a conductor lets each member of the orchestra play his or her instrument to its best without overpowering others.

So, while the heavenly perspective is indeed different from those of tree, fish, and deer, each of which is blind to what others can see, it does not override such perspectives. It merely puts such perspectives in perspective: let everything hold its own perspective and yet not impose its own perspective on anything else, so that everything can treat everything else from the perspective of the thing being treated. Should the perspective of heaven or Dao override those of individual things and allow, for example, the perspective of Cook Ding to supersede that of the ox, or the perspective of Carpenter Ziqing that of trees, or the perspective of the cicada catcher that of the cicada, then we would have to conclude that, from the perspective of heaven, things are not equal: at least the respective perspectives of Cook Ding, Carpenter Ziqing, and cicada catcher would be more valuable than the perspectives of oxen, trees, and cicadas. This appears to be a very un-Zhuangzian view, as the central theme of chapter 2, “The Equality of Things,” the most important chapter of the whole text, is, as its title indicates, the equality of things. The nature of an ox is not to grow in order to be killed by a cook, that of a cicada is not to be caught by a cicada catcher, and that of trees is not to be cut by carpenters.

Second, we must distinguish between the two senses in which Zhuangzi uses terms such as dao and tian (heaven or nature). As we have seen, Ivanhoe seems to imply that, should they accept the respective perspectives of the ox, the cicada, and the tree, Cook Ding, the cicada catcher, and Carpenter Ziqing would not perform their respective actions toward them. However, these actions are nevertheless right, for in performing these actions, such masters care about dao, which is beyond skill. So the point of such knack stories is not to encourage us to perfect a given skill but to harmonize with dao. However, reading such knack stories, we will find that the only meaning of dao that these masters care about, as Yearley correctly points out, is that it “characterizes the actualization of role specific virtues that seem to be pedestrian or objectionable” (2007, 12).

This point can be better seen in the related term used by these masters in their descriptions of their knacks: tian 天. Just as there are two senses of dao, Zhuangzi talks about tian (heaven or nature) in two different senses. The first sense, used in all these knack stories, refers to the natural structure of a thing. Thus, when Cook Ding claims that he follows the tian li in carving an ox and goes by what is inherently so (yin qi gu ran) of an ox, he is referring to the natural structure of the body of an ox. To learn about a thing's nature in this sense is conducive to someone dealing with the thing. For example, knowledge of the tian li of an ox in this sense helps Cook Ding to carve the ox easily, just as it can also help a veterinarian to cure the disease of the ox effectively.

However, such knowledge does not tell us what we should do to a particular thing, which is related to the second sense of tian in the Zhuangzi: the natural disposition of a thing. For example, the natural disposition of a seabird is “to roost in a deep forest … wander over the plain, swim in a river or lake, feed upon fish, and fly in formation with others” (Zhuangzi 18.621), and the natural disposition of a horse is “to tread on frost and snow with their hoofs, to withstand wind and cold with their hair, to feed on grasses and drink water, and to prance with their legs” (Zhuangzi 9.330). In Zhuangzi's view, whether our action toward something is morally appropriate or not depends on whether our action follows the tian li of the thing in this second sense.

This is the reason Zhuangzi criticizes the Marquis of Lu, who treats a seabird with wine, meat, and music, even though he does all of these with a good intention (Zhuangzi 18.621); this is also the reason Zhuangzi criticizes the famous horse tamer Bo Le, who singes and marks horses, clips their hair, pares their hoofs, halters their heads, bridles and hobbles them, confines them in stables, subjects them to hunger and thirst, gallops and races them, worries them with bondage of bit and breastplate, and threatens them with a whip and switch (Zhuangzi 9.330).

Third, it is true that there is no knack story told in the Zhuangzi about skillful assassins or pickpockets. However, not only is it not clear whether these knack stories can prevent one from being such an assassin or pickpocket, it is also not clear whether the activities described by these knack stories are indeed benign, as Ivanhoe claims. As we have seen, although Cook Ding follows the tian li in the first sense, the natural structure, of an ox when he carves it, it is not the tian li in the second sense, the natural inclination, of the ox to be carved by a cook. The same thing can be said about the action of Carpenter Ziqing toward the tree, as a tree does not grow to be cut, or that of the cicada catcher toward a cicada, as a cicada certainly is not born to be caught. Are such actions ethically benign according to the Zhuangzi? The text does not give us a direct answer. However, we know that the Zhuangzi is clearly critical of the Marquis of Lu's action toward the seabird and of Bo Le's action toward horses. If the Marquis of Lu's and Bo Le's actions toward the seabird and horses are wrong because they did not treat the seabird and horses as they would like to be treated, then how is it right for Cook Ding to carve oxen, for Ziqing to cut trees, and for the cicada catcher to catch cicadas? After all, the natural inclination of an ox is not to be carved, that of a tree not to be cut, and that of a cicada not to be caught. So in the sense that they do not follow the natural inclinations, the tian li in the second sense, there is no difference between Marquis of Lu and Bo Le on the one hand and Cook Ding, the cicada catcher, and Carpenter Ziqing on the other, when they perform their respective actions.

Of course, we cannot take such stories—both stories about Cook Ding, Carpenter Ziqing, and the cicada catcher and stories about Marquis of Lu and Bo Le—so literally. All of these stories are about human actions toward nonhuman beings. Unless we want to see Zhuangzi as someone who wants to tell us something about how to deal with animals and the environment, we should keep in mind that the main function of all of these stories about the proper relationship among different species in the Zhaungzi is to tell us, analogically or metaphorically, how we human beings should act with each other. If we think that such knack stories tell us not only how to perform morally appropriate actions to other human beings when such actions are identified, but also what morally proper actions we should perform for human beings, this would lead to a very implausible conclusion that some humans are born to be used, if not killed, by other humans, just as oxen are born to be carved by cooks, as if the only thing we need to pay attention to is that, when we perform actions affecting other human beings, we need to learn about their tian li in the first sense, which will ensure the success and ease of our action.

The Function of Difference Stories in the Zhuangzian Virtue Ethics

In my view, these knack stories tell us how to do things well if we know what things we ought to do, but they do not tell us what things we ought to do. To know the latter, we must turn to a different cluster of stories, the difference stories, in the Zhuangzi. Two such stories, the Marquis of Lu's treatment of a seabird and Bo Le's treatment of horses, were already mentioned in the previous section. In the former, we are told that when a seabird alighted outside the Marquis of Lu's palace, he “gave it wine in the temple, and had the Jiushao music played to amuse it, and a bullock slaughtered to feed it. But the bird was dazed and too timid to eat or drink anything. In three days it was dead.” The Zhuangzi makes it clear that the problem with the Marquis of Lu in this case is his “treating the bird as he would like to be treated and not as a bird would like to be treated” (Zhuangzi 18.621). In the latter story, we are told that the famous horse tamer Bo Le, when training horses, did not follow the horses' natural disposition, the tian li in the second sense, which is, as we have already seen, “to tread on frost and snow with their hoofs, to withstand wind and cold with their hair, to feed on grasses and drink water, and to prance with their legs” (Zhuangzi 9.330). Although neither of these two difference stories is from the inner chapters, they are very similar to the one about Emperors Shu and Hu's treatment of Emperor Hundun in chapter 7, one of the inner chapters:

All of these difference stories convey the idea that different things all have equal values. This is the central theme of the most important chapter, “The Equality of Things,” in which Zhuangzi asks, “If a human being sleeps in a damp place, the person will have a pain in his or her loins and some paralysis. Is that true of eels? If a human being lives up in a tree, the person will be frightened and tremble. Is that true of monkeys? Which of the three knows the right place to live?” (Zhuangzi 2.93). In Zhuangzi's view, there is no common standard of the best place to live for all animals, although there is a best place to live for each of them. Therefore, as I argue elsewhere, the ethics that we can learn from such stories is an ethics of difference (Huang Reference Huang2010a). Its fundamental thesis is that human beings (and things in nature more generally), while different in terms of their natural dispositions, their tian li in the second sense, are of equal value, and therefore no one should impose his or her own values on others, whether out of good or ill will. According to such an ethics of difference, the moral appropriateness of our actions toward others is not determined by our standard as moral agents but that of our moral patients. So when our actions affect others, we must take into account the particular interests of our patients.

The ethics of difference implied in these difference stories avoids endorsing or tolerating actions by professional thieves and killers, as Wenzel worries; it cannot be adapted to value a samurai's mastery of butchering people, as Eno fears; and instead of simply saying that “Hitler happened,” as Hansen claims, it can condemn such actions. This reading of the Zhuangzi as presenting an ethics of difference, in an important aspect, is similar to David Wong's interpretation of it as an ethics of recognizing the equal worth of diverse ways of life. Because Wong's view has invited some criticisms for its apparent inability to condemn despicable things, it is important to see whether we can make a plausible response to such a criticism in defending the Zhuangzian ethics of difference.

According to Wong's ethics of recognition of equal worth of diverse ways of life, “every person has certain rights (such as those to freedom and well-being) and deserves equal consideration of his or her interests. By equal consideration, I mean the assignment of equal weights in moral deliberation to interests that are equally important to the different people having them” (Reference Wong1984, 198). This reading of the Zhuangzi is similar to mine: for both of us, the Zhuangzi asks us, as moral agents, not to impose our standards of right and wrong on others; instead, we should recognize and respect others, particularly if they have standards of right and wrong that are very different from ours.

In his discussion of Wong's interpretation of Zhuangzi, however, Ivanhoe claims that an ethics of difference that emphasizes the recognition of equal worth of diverse ways of life is problematic:

Of course, the ethics of the Zhuangzi, whether as an ethics of difference or an ethics of recognition of equal worth of diverse ways of life, does tolerate and even respect a range of things that may be regarded as despicable. For example, homosexuality was regarded as despicable by many, and perhaps still is by some. To be an atheist, or at least to refuse to become a Christian, may be regarded by Christian fundamentalists as something despicable (or sinful). The ethics of the Zhuangzi would certainly endorse such “despicable” things.Footnote ³

Obviously, the despicable things that Ivanhoe has in mind are not those things either. What he means are those done by such people as robbers, professional killers, or slave owners. Does the Zhuangzian ethics of difference that emphasizes equal respect for diverse ways of life have to endorse such ways of life as well? I think not. Here, the crucial difference is that homosexuals and atheists can live their lives with equal respect for those who have ways of life different from their own (at least their ways of life do not necessitate interferences with other ways of life), whereas robbers, professional killers, and slave owners cannot live their ways of life with a recognition of the equal worth of the ways of life of those whom they rob, kill, or enslave. The ethics of difference respects diverse ways of life as having equal worth, and so logically it cannot respect any ways of life that do not regard other ways of life as having equal worth, just as a good libertarian who values individual freedom cannot value an individual's freedom to take away another individual's freedom (see Mill Reference Mill and Action1991, 171).

To use the example in chapter 2 of the Zhuangzi again, from the perspective of humans, dry places are right places to live, while from the perspective of eels, damp places are right places to live. However, from the perspective of dao, the perspective of humans and the perspective of eels are equally right if they are referring to good places to live for these two different animals, respectively, but they are equally wrong if they are referring to good places to live for both humans and eels or even for all animals. So, if we accept the view of the ethics of difference in the Zhuangzi, it is wrong for Hitler to kill Jews, just as it is wrong for humans to put eels in dry places, for the Marquis of Lu to “entertain” the seabird, for Bo Le to tame horses, and for Kings Shu and Hu to open holes in Hundun's face. The reason is precisely the same: moral agents in the former case, just as moral agents in the latter cases, do not respect the equal worth of moral patients who have different values from them. The respective moral agents would not have done anything wrong, again from the standpoint of the Zhuangzian ethics of difference, should the Jews prefer to be killed, the eels prefer to live in dry places, the seabird prefer to be entertained in Marquis of Lu's way, and the horses prefer to be tamed by Bo Le.

What is important is that we must treat others according to their natural tendencies (yi hu tian li 依乎天理), follow their inherent nature (yin qi gu ran 因其固然), and observe their inborn nature (guan tian xing 觀天性), with the term “nature” (tian and xing) here understood in the second and not in the first sense distinguished in the previous section. Thus understood, the natural tendency, the inherent nature, or the inborn nature of oxen is obviously not to be carved by a cook, that of trees is not to be cut by the carpenter, and that of a cicada is not to be caught by the cicada catcher. In other words, from an ethical perspective, Cook Ding's action toward the ox, Carpenter Ziqing's action toward trees, and the cicada catcher's action toward cicadas are wrong, just as Shu and Hu's action toward Hundun, the Marquis of Lu's action toward the seabird, and Bo Le's action toward horses are wrong. So the Zhuangzian ethics of difference, which asks us to esteem ways of life different from ours, not only does not esteem but will condemn the type of despicable life.

To say this, however, is not to say that the message of the knack stories is contradictory to that of the difference stories, nor is it to say that the knack stories are empty of ethical meaning. In my view, these two types of stories convey two different messages about morality. Difference stories tell us what constitutes a morally appropriate action—the action that recognizes the equal value of diverse ways of life—while knack stories tell us how to perform the morally appropriate action in an admirable way—to be spontaneous, natural, and effortless. It is wrong to read knack stories as if they tell us what a moral action is or to read difference stories as if they tell us how to perform our moral actions. To fully understand the ethics of difference in the Zhuangzi, therefore, we must combine the two messages conveyed in these two different clusters of stories.

A truly moral person, in the Zhuangzian sense, is one who can naturally, spontaneously, and effortlessly recognize and respect the equal value of diverse ways of life. To use another phrase in the knack story, a truly moral person is one who can match his or her tian with the tian of his or her moral patients (yi tian he tian 以天合天). We have discussed the tian of moral patients in its second sense, their inborn natural tendencies, such as the tendency of an eel to live in a damp place, that of humans to live in a dry place, and that of monkey to live in a forest. Here, we need to briefly discuss the tian of the moral agent that matches the tian of the moral patient.

In appearance, this idea of yi tian he tian assumes that a moral agent must have the natural disposition (tian 天) to recognize and respect the equal values of diverse ways of life; in other words, if it is possible for everyone to be moral, Zhuangzi or Zhuangzians must assume that human nature is good. Perhaps for this reason, Wong argues that, for Zhuangzi, in order to respect the equal worth of diverse ways of life,

However, Ivanhoe is correct in saying that “there is no evidence in the text that Zhuangzi believed people by nature tend to have compassion for one another” (Reference Ivanhoe, Kjellberg and Ivanhoe1996, 206). As a matter of fact, as the author of the Zaiyou chapter says, “common people are all pleased if others agree with them and are displeased when other people disagree with them. They like those who agree with them and dislike those who disagree with them” (Zhuangzi 11.392; see Tang Reference Junyi1992, 355). Although this is from an outer chapter, what it really says is simply that everyone has an opinionated mind (cheng xin 成心), a central idea in chapter 2. In Zhuangzi's view, eels tend to think that damp places are good places to live, not only for eels but for all beings; monkeys tend to think that treetops are good places to live, not only for monkeys but for all beings; and human beings think that dry places are good places to live, not only for humans but for all beings. Thus, they tend to impose their own standard of right places to live on other beings. This is what Zhuangzi regards as cheng xin, the fixed and opinionated mind, a mind that is obstructive to one's appropriate actions toward others (Zhuangzi 2.56). It is this cheng xin that leads the Marquis of Lu to treat the seabird as he would like to be treated; it is also this cheng xin that leads Emperors Shu and Hu to open apertures in the head of the Emperor of Hundun. The difference stories in the Zhuangzi show precisely why this cheng xin is bad and how to overcome it.

Possibility of a Virtue Ethics in the Zhuangzi

In the foregoing, I argue that the ethical significance of knack stories is set within the limits of difference stories: the latter tell us what is moral, and the former tell us how to be moral. The difference stories ask us to recognize and respect the equal value of diverse ways of life, to use Wong's term. Elsewhere, I characterize this as the moral Copper Rule—do (or do not do) unto others as others would (or would not) have us do unto them, in contrast to the more familiar Golden Rule—do (or do not do) unto others as we would (or would not) have others do unto us (see Huang Reference Huang2005). If this is the case, it seems that Zhuangzi's ethics is primarily a rule ethics and not a virtue ethics. However, virtue ethics is different from rule ethics not because there are rules in the latter and not in the former.

In her response to the objection that virtue ethics fails to provide guidance of action for someone who is not yet virtuous, Hursthouse, for example, claims that “not only does each virtue generate a prescription—do what is honest, charitable, generous—but each vice a prohibition—do not do what is dishonest, uncharitable, mean” (1999, 36; see also Annas Reference Annas and David2006, 518; Slote Reference Slote1992, chap. 6). Hursthouse calls such rules “v-rules” (rules of virtue ethics). In this sense, the Copper Rule can be regarded as a rule generated by the virtue of respecting the equal value of diverse ways of life. If humans are not naturally virtuous, then there is a need for rules to help humans become virtuous. Because Zhuangzi, as we have seen, unlike the Mencian Confucians, does not hold the view of human nature as virtuous, he needs a rule to guide people to become virtuous.

To say this is not to say that there is no distinction between virtue ethics and rule ethics. The essential distinction between the two is that, while rule ethics focuses on the kind of action a person performs, virtue ethics focuses on the type of agent a person is or becomes. More specifically, in a rule ethics, rules are ultimate (and virtue is derivative and helps one to follow rules), while in a virtue ethics, rules are generated from virtues and serve to cultivate virtues. The central idea of Zhuangzi's ethics of difference is to respect the unique natural tendencies of different things. Because it is only when their natural tendencies are respected that their wellness can be enhanced, and the enhancement of their wellness, according to Slote, is an important qualification for a given character trait to be admirable or virtuous, the rule to respect differences in Zhuangzi is derived from the virtue of respecting differences. It is in this sense that I claim that Zhuangzi's ethics of difference is a virtue ethics.

However, if one is not yet virtuous but is simply following the rule of Zhuangzi's ethics of difference, while the person's rule-following actions may be considered moral, particularly in an ethics of duty, the person who performs the action, as well as the action performed, is not admirable in virtue ethics. As Michael Stocker asks, “what sort of life would people have who did their duties but never or rarely wanted to?” (1997, 67). Thus, while there are varieties of virtue ethics, one thing common to them all is virtue ethics' emphasis on being moral naturally, effortlessly, gracefully, and joyfully (see Annas Reference Annas and David2006, 517; Statman Reference Statman1997, 16).

Here it seems that we come across a difficulty in Zhuangzi's ethics: truly moral actions, actions that respect the uniqueness of the patient, are actions performed by the agent naturally, effortlessly, and gracefully; however, for Zhuangzi, no moral agents have a natural inborn tendency to respect the uniqueness of the patient, and thus truly moral actions seem to be impossible. To surmount this apparent difficulty, it is important to recall that, in the claim that the agent's natural disposition should match the patient's natural disposition (yi tian he tian 以天合天), the term “natural” (tian) does not mean the same thing in reference to the agent as to the patient. While in both cases it means “natural,” in the latter, it is something that the patient is born with, but in the former, it is something that the agent must cultivate in himself or herself. What is most striking in all of the knack stories in the Zhuangzi is the naturalness, effortlessness, gracefulness, and joyfulness of these Daoist masters in performing their relevant actions. However, none of them is born with such knacks or skills.

So to be a moral person for Zhuangzi is not merely to follow one's natural inborn tendencies, but also to respect the natural tendencies of others. However, just as the masters in knack stories are not born with their knacks, a person is not born with the natural tendency to respect the natural tendencies of others. As a matter of fact, one tends to have an opinionated mind, believing one's own parochial standard of right and wrong to be universal (although Zhuangzi stops short of saying that such an opinionated mind is inborn). Only after one makes a great effort to sit and forget (zuo wang 坐忘 ) (Zhuangzi 6.284), to fast the mind (xin zhai 心齋) (Zhuangzi 4.147), to lose oneself (sang wo 喪我) (Zhuangzi 2.45), and to become without self (wu ji 無己) (Zhuangzi 1.17), can one choose to do moral things (respecting others' unique natural tendencies) and not do immoral things (refraining from imposing one's own value on others). When one first chooses to act morally, one's action may be clumsy, and one may need to make a forced effort. Only after a long period of practice can one perform moral actions as skillfully, effortlessly, gracefully, and joyfully as Cook Ding, Carpenter Qing, and Wheelwright Pian perform their respective nonmoral actions.

In this context, I think that Yearley's distinction among three categories of drives is particularly helpful in explaining the self-cultivation of the moral agent's disposition to respect the natural dispositions of moral patients. First is the dispositional drives. Our drive to impose our standard of right and wrong on others, the drive from our opinionated mind (cheng xin), belongs to such a category. Directed to such dispositional drives is the second category of drives, the reflective drives, which “manifest the desire to have different drives than the dispositional ones that normally and easily operate” (Yearley Reference Yearley, Kjellberg and Ivanhoe1996, 154). Our desire to respect the uniqueness of others, to let and assist others be “so of themselves” (ziran 自然), at its initial stage, belongs to this category. When we act on the reflective drives, we often need to make a forced effort. So there is a need for the third category of drives, the transcendent drives. With such drives, “I find myself able to perform easily and well tasks that previously seemed to be far beyond my normal capacities” (Yearley Reference Yearley, Kjellberg and Ivanhoe1996, 193–254). This last type of drive is nothing but the cultivated natural and spontaneous disposition.Footnote ⁴

“Cultivated natural disposition” sounds like an oxymoron. For example, Ivanhoe argues that “it is misleading to describe such paragons [as the marvelous cook, the boatman, Woodcarver Qing, Wheelwright Pian, the Cicada catcher] as having developed or taken on a ‘second nature’ that enables them to act with such great effect in the world. At least from the Daoist perspective, a second nature would by definition be unnatural” (Carr and Ivanhoe Reference Carr and Ivanhoe2000, 72; see also Slingerland Reference Slingerland2003, 211). So in what sense can this cultivated natural disposition be seen as natural? On the one hand, this is a disposition to respect the unique natural tendency of one's moral patient, and in this sense, it is natural in a humanistic in contrast to a naturalistic conception, to use Liu Xiaogan's 劉笑敢 seemingly paradoxical but actually profound term in his discussion of Laozi's conception of nature (see Liu 2006, 623–28). What Liu means is that, while other things in the world can only be natural (self-so), human beings can assist others to be natural. This not only means not interfering in the natural lives of other beings, but also assisting them to live natural lives when unnatural things happen to them.

For example, it is natural for fish to live in water, but when a fish is washed onshore by a wave, then it can no longer live a natural life (even though its being washed onshore by a wave is a natural event, not caused by humans). In this case, only human beings, recognizing that the fish is no longer able to live a natural life, can decide to put it back in the water so that it can return to its natural life. Here, the action is performed by human beings for the fish, and in this sense, it is humanistic rather than naturalistic, but the purpose and result of the action is the natural life of the fish, and in this sense, it is also naturalistic.

On the other hand, while a person's action to help others live a natural life is natural in the sense discussed earlier, it may not be natural in a different sense: the person's action may be forced, reluctant, and unwilling, so there is a second sense of “natural” in the idea of “cultivated natural disposition.” As pointed out, unlike the Mencians, Zhuangzi does not hold the conception of human nature as virtuous. So this very trait of character of assisting other things to be natural is not something that one is born with. To use Yearley's terms, one's inborn dispositional drive, in this case, is perhaps to eat the fish washed onshore. However, the person's reflective drive may require him or her to respect the fish's natural life and so put the fish back in the water, however unwilling and reluctant the person is. Yet when the person acquires the virtue of letting and assisting things to be natural, such reluctance and unwillingness will disappear, and he or she can perform such actions (of letting and assisting things to be natural) effortlessly, spontaneously, delightfully, and naturally (see Liu 2006, 292–93).

In this transition from unwillingness to willingness and from unnaturalness to naturalness in performing moral actions, actions to let and assist others to live a natural life, what is important is the relevant moral knowledge, similar to the type of nonmoral knowledge that Wheelwright Pian says that he cannot teach his son and his son cannot learn from him. Borrowing Gilbert Ryle's distinction between “knowing that” and “knowing how,” many Zhuangzi scholars today emphasize that moral knowledge in the Zhuangzi is “knowing how” instead of “knowing that” (see, e.g., Danto Reference Danto1987, 103; Graham Reference Graham and Mair1983, 8; Ivanhoe Reference Ivanhoe1993, 648; Yearley Reference Yearley, Kjellberg and Ivanhoe1996, 170). While Ryle's distinction is helpful for us to understand the type of knowledge that Zhuangzi thinks is essential to morality, we must keep two things in mind. On the one hand, to be ethical in Zhuangzi's sense, a certain type of “knowing that” is necessary. A central feature of Zhuangzi's ethics of difference is to respect the uniqueness of our moral patients. Thus, in order to act morally, we must have the appropriate knowledge of their uniqueness. Such knowledge of the uniqueness of our moral patients obviously belongs to Ryle's “knowing that.”

On the other hand, it is true that “knowing that” alone does not lead us to perform any moral actions, and therefore there is also a need for Ryle's “knowing how”; however, for a genuine moral action to take place, such “knowing how,” at least in Ryle's sense, is still not sufficient. “Knowing how” can only help one to do something well; it does not necessarily motivate the person to do it. People do immoral things (or do not do moral things) not because they do not know how to do moral things, but because they are unwilling to do them. After all, the ability to be moral is not something that one needs a high degree of intelligence to acquire. In this sense, the necessary knowledge needed here is not merely the knowledge of the mind (and both “knowing that” and “knowing how” are types of knowing of the mind for Ryle; after all, they are discussed in his The Concept of Mind). Instead, it is the knowledge that one personally experiences through one's heart. It is a type of embodied knowledge, knowledge obtained through one's inner experience of heart and embodied in one's body. It is in this sense that Zhuangzians talk about ti dao 體道, “to embody,” or to have inner experiences of, Dao. In the Zhuangzian view, “a person who has the inner experience of Dao (ti dao zhe 體道者) is one upon whom all superior persons rely” (Zhaungzi 22.755). Knowledge of Dao thus acquired “can be transmitted [by heart] but cannot be taught [with words]; it can be obtained but cannot be seen” (Zhuangzi 6.246).

Once people acquire such knowledge from their inner experiences, they can perform moral actions as naturally, spontaneously, effortlessly, and joyfully as Cook Ding, Carpenter Ziqing, and Wheelwright Pian perform their respective nonmoral actions. Just like Confucius at seventy, they can always act on their inner desires without overstepping any moral principles, which have thus become useless for them. Instead, their actions become moral standards for others who have not reached such a stage. Their actions are so natural and spontaneous that they do not seem to act according to their knowledge or even to have such knowledge:

Sages, in their love for people, act as if they did not know that they are loving people, because we do not see them making any deliberations before their actions or exerting any effort in performing their actions; but they also act as if they did have knowledge, as we common people cannot understand how one can always love people without knowing anything about loving people.

About this feature of moral knowledge acquired from one's inner experience of heart, there is a more extended discussion in the Tian yun chapter. When asked about the perfect humanity (zhi ren 至仁), Zhuangzi replies, “Perfect humanity is without affection for parents,” and further explains,

Here, perfect humanity as that without affection for parents does not mean that parents are obstacles to perfect humanity. It simply means to forget your parents. It is more difficult to forget your parents than to love them, because as long as you know that you should love them, you can at least make some effort to do so. Here, to forget your parents does not mean to not love them; rather, it is to love them without knowing that you ought to love them and that you are loving them. When you love your parents so naturally, spontaneously, and effortlessly, you have forgotten your parents, which is certainly something more difficult to accomplish. So it is easy to love with effort, but more difficult to love effortlessly. It sounds paradoxical, but conveys a profound message: sages can do things effortlessly, but one cannot become a sage without making great effort.

Moreover, as we are told in the foregoing passage, “it is easy to forget parents, but it is difficult to make parents forget me.” Why? To forget your parents in loving them simply means that you do not need to make any effort in loving them. However, to make parents forget you means that you love your parents in such a way that your parents do not feel that you are loving them when they are loved. In other words, your action of loving them leaves no trace. Precisely the same thing can be said about the claim that it is easy to forget the world but is difficult to make the world forget you (see Yang Reference Yang Guorong2006, 169). About this, the Zhuangzi provides the most vivid explanation:

That a pair of fitting shoes makes you forget about your feet certainly does not mean that your feet no longer exist, and that a fitting belt makes you forget about your waist certainly does not mean that your waist no longer exists. Similarly, your heart's being at ease makes you forget about the right and wrong does not mean that the right and wrong no longer exist, and your love makes you and your parents forget each other does not mean that you and your parents no longer exist.

Normally, we praise a person for doing something good or blame a person for doing something bad if the person could have not done it. If people do bad things without knowing that they are doing so, we do not regard such people as bad, even if we do not regard them as good either; if people do good things without knowing so, we do not regard them as good, although we do not regard them as bad either. Sages do nothing but good, and therefore they are supremely good (zhi shan 至善). However, because they do good things naturally, without knowing that they are doing good things or that they should do good things, we cannot regard them as good either. It is in this sense that the Zhuangzian supreme good is beyond good and evil. Perhaps for this reason, Liu Xiaogan argues that—unlike Mencius, who argues that human nature is good, Xunzi, who claims that human nature is evil, and Gaozi, who maintains that human nature is neutral—Zhuangzians hold the view that human nature is beyond good and evil (see Liu Reference Liu Xiaogan1993, 279). I think this is an important observation. The only reservation I would like to make is that, while we can be sure that for Zhuangzians, if not Zhuangzi, the cultivated human nature that sages obtain after a long career of moral cultivation is indeed beyond good and evil, we are not equally sure whether for Zhuangzi or Zhuangzians, inborn human nature, just like the sages' acquired nature, is also beyond good and evil.

Concluding Remarks

I have explored in this article the possibility of a virtue ethics in the Zhuangzi. My argument is focused on one central theme of virtue ethics: the goodness or wellness of a person instead of the rightness of an action. A good, virtuous, and admirable person performs moral actions spontaneously, effortlessly, joyfully, and naturally. The theme is clearly present in this great Daoist text. Because Zhuangzi, just like Aristotle and unlike Mencius, does not hold the view that human nature is originally virtuous, human virtues have to be cultivated. In this process of cultivating one's virtue, a specific Zhuangzian rule is to respect diverse ways of life, or to act as a person with the virtue of such respect, or to be a person with this virtue. When this virtue is cultivated, a person will be able to respect the difference of others, so that their wellness is enhanced in a spontaneous, effortless, joyful, and natural way. The Zhuangzian ethics is a virtue ethics because it exhorts us not only to assist things to be “so of themselves” (ziran), but also to become a person who feels to be “so of oneself” (ziran) in assisting things to be “so of themselves.” Indeed, this is the true meaning of yi tian he tian: to match the patients' natural inclination with one's (the agent's) own natural inclination. The perfect example of such a person who can yi tian he tian is the Daoist sage, whose ultimate good is beyond good and evil.