Contempt,Withdrawal and Equanimity in the Zhuangzi

Abstract

The Zhuangzi, a 4^th century BCE Daoist text, is sceptical about the political culture of its time. Those who debated conceptions of a good life were hostile to the views of others. They were intolerant and at times contemptuous of others who did not embody their values. In contrast to such negativity, the Zhuangzi promotes equanimity. The equanimity of the sagely person is grounded in a balance she maintains between engagement and withdrawal. Engaging critically, she problematises the lack of diversity in their options for a good life. By withdrawing, she refuses to be party to the squabbles that perpetuate intolerance. The paper aims to show how equanimity is possible, thereby articulating a new angle on emotions in the Zhuangzi.

Contempt, Withdrawal and Equanimity in the Zhuangzi

The Zhuangzi, a 4^th century BCE Daoist ¹ text, is deeply sceptical about the prevailing political culture of its time. The Warring States period (c. 475–221 BCE) was a particularly difficult time in ancient China and political advisors sought to implement ethico-social values and practices aligned with their specific vision of a good life. Some of these thinkers, who were authors of key extant philosophical texts, were adamant they held the correct account of a good life. From the Zhuangzi's perspective, they were hostile to others’ views while defensive of their own. A staunch commitment to their own vision sometimes went hand in hand with a judgmental attitude; people who did not align with the values of the vision were held in contempt, as we will see in a story in the Zhuangzi.

In contrast to the negativity generated in political discourse, the Zhuangzi promotes equanimity. The equanimity of the sagely person is grounded in a fine balance she maintains between engagement and withdrawal. In its criticisms of the proposals to regulate society, the Zhuangzi articulates its concerns about the lack of diversity in their options for a good life. In its withdrawal from debates on who holds the correct view, the Zhuangzi expresses its refusal to participate in the harmful attitude that perpetuates intolerance. Authors of the Zhuangzi ² were concerned about both the intolerant culture generated by the debates and its impact on the people's options for a good life. In its approach, the Zhuangzi treads a fine line between critical engagement, on the one hand, and withdrawal, on the other. These are elements of sagely equanimity promoted in the Zhuangzi, and key aspects of this paper's argument. The paper aims to articulate how, according to the Zhuangzi, equanimity may be attained by withdrawing from debates in a hostile environment; yet one does not walk away from calling out what is unacceptable. Its focus on the nature of withdrawal shows how this is possible and thereby articulates a new angle on emotions in the Zhuangzi.

The argument in this paper proceeds as follows. Section 1 introduces the Zhuangzi's concerns about the negativity among those who debated questions on a good life. The discussion focuses on the intolerant attitude of those who defensively guard their visions. It also explicates the Zhuangzi's concern about how these intolerant attitudes impact on the lives of the people. Section 2 focuses on contempt as an emotional response generated by intolerant attitudes. It illustrates this idea through a story in the Zhuangzi about the encounter between Confucius and an ex-criminal, Toeless. I suggest that Confucius holds the ex-criminal in contempt, drawing on the characteristics of contempt identified in contemporary discussions. Section 3 focuses on the theme of withdrawal. It continues the investigation of the story by focusing on Toeless's withdrawal from engaging with Confucius. The argument here uses aspects of this story to reflect more broadly on the Zhuangzi's views about when it is appropriate to walk away from a situation. Section 4's emphasis on equanimity brings together the themes from earlier sections. It embeds this analysis within scholarly discussions of Zhuangzian equanimity. The aim of this section is to demonstrate how equanimity is possible by a person's withdrawing appropriately from engagement in certain scenarios, but not in such a way that sheds responsibility for calling out what is wrong.

Section 1. A Good Life: Debates During the Zhuangzi's Time

The Zhuangzi is critical of discourses in official life as it was concerned especially with debates on a good life and worthwhile pursuits during its time. Some approaches to a good life advocated a top-down approach in which an enlightened ruler who embodies a set of values exerts moral influence over one and all. ³ In this section, we examine two aspects of the Zhuangzi's disagreement with these matters. The first concerns the attitude of intolerance that fuel the debates. The second focuses on the impact of imposing these singular visions on people's lives. We discuss each in turn.

Regarding the first worry, the Zhuangzi highlights the mise en scène of the political debates, wherein views were asserted and (others) denied:

When dao is obscured by little accomplishments and speech is obscured by pomposity, we have the “Yea!” (shi 是; right) and “Nay!” (fei 非; wrong) of the Confucians and the Mohists. What one calls “right!” the other calls “wrong!”; what one calls “wrong!” the other calls “right!”. (Zhuangzi 2/25-7; trans. by author) ⁴

The passage identifies conceptions of the good life promoted by two traditions, the Confucian (Ru: scholar-officials 儒) and the Mohist (Mo 墨). The visions of the good life offered by the Confucians and the Mohists were markedly different: for the Confucians ⁵ , goodness, a characteristic shared by all humans, radiated from the ideal ruler while, for the Mohists ⁶ , goodness encompassed the procurement of a set of benefits for both individuals and the state.

The Zhuangzi disagrees with their visions, but that is not all. It points out that utterances of “Yea!” and “Nay!” express a proponent's endorsement or disapproval of a particular viewpoint: for a person to say “Nay!” to a view indicates her disapproval of the view. ⁷ Expressions of ‘shi’ and ‘fei’ were generated by attitudes which, I suggest, are epistemological attitudes as they concern judgments of what is correct or incorrect. ⁸ The attitude of intolerance of other views, defensiveness about one's own, and an anxiety to determine the correct approach, contribute directly to the charged and emotional atmosphere of these debates:

…daily there is the striving of mind with mind…There are small apprehensions which cause restless distress and great apprehensions that produce overwhelming fears. There are those whose utterances are like arrows from a bow, who feel it their charge to pronounce what is right (shi 是) and what wrong (fei 非). There are those who, as if guided by a covenant, are determined to overcome. (Zhuangzi 2/11–12. Adapted from the translation by Legge, 1962, pp. 178-9)

The Zhuangzi uses powerful imagery to convey the preoccupations of these thinkers: they take on the mantle of defender of their values, as if bound to a covenant. They have a staunch and humourless commitment to their own set of values. Their words, issued like arrows, head toward fixed targets. Each thinker believed their specific vision was best suited to resolving the unrest of the time. ⁹ Society would inevitably mirror these attitudes, as only one set of values could be endorsed at any one time.

The impact of this approach to a good life is the second concern of the Zhuangzi we address here. In simplest terms, the Zhuangzi's worry is that the promotion of only one model of human excellence deprives the people of other options and possibilities. To illustrate this point, in a passage especially critical of the Confucian tradition, the Zhuangzi remarks on how the revered Confucian sage king Yao attempted to foster a better life for the people through instilling benevolence (ren 仁) and righteousness (yi 義), hallmarks of a Confucian life. Although well intentioned, king Yao did not understand that conformity to one set of standards would diminish the people's lives. The passage states,

for any one man to benefit the world with his decisions and institutions can be likened to trying to carve out the shapes of all things with a single slash of the knife. Yao understands how worthy people profit the world, but he doesn’t understand how they plunder (zei 賊) the world” (Zhuangzi 24/87-88; trans. Ziporyn, 2020: 203-4).

The passage uses the term “zei” to convey the sense of injury or theft. The language of the passage evokes a cookie cutter approach to the good life. The Zhuangzi also uses imagery to capture the ineptness of advocating a singular model of a good life to dress a monkey in a duke's clothing (Zhuangzi 14/40-44); or to take a bird on a chariot ride, have it visit a temple and to provide it with a banquet of meat and wine (Zhuangzi 18/33-37). Both these anecdotes problematise the efforts to enrich human lives—even if well intentioned—by promoting a single set of ideals. The monkey will bite and rip the clothes until it is rid of them; and the bird dies after three days. The ways the monkey and bird are fussed over are ridiculous, of course, all the more to bring out how the proposed approaches to a good life are doomed to fail.

The fact that the Zhuangzi's stance on this issue is said in different ways indicates its significance for its authors. The Zhuangzi speaks emphatically against an approach that recognises only a single model of human achievement. Proponents promote their ideals with utmost zeal, ardently defending them against other views. Their inflexibility goes hand in hand with their intolerance of difference and diversity. Their intolerance, I suggest, leads them sometimes to view those who do not conform, with contempt. In the next section, we explore a story in which intolerance for difference may generate strong negative emotions such as contempt.

Section 2. Contempt

There is a story of Confucius’ interactions with an ex-criminal, Toeless Uncle Mountain (Zhuangzi 5/24-31). When Confucius first meets Toeless, he is hostile. I suggest that Confucius views Toeless with contempt because Toeless has failed to embody the values upheld by Confucius. We examine the story before drawing on contemporary debates on contempt to enlighten our discussion.

The story is found in chapter five of the Zhuangzi (Zhuangzi 5), which celebrates the achievements of people who are considered “deformed” or “handicapped”. Their deformities are described by the Zhuangzi in almost comic ways: there is “Crookback lipless the cripple” (Zhuangzi 5/49-50), and the man with the “urn-sized goitre” (Zhuangzi 5/50-51). Its vocabulary is comic yet profound because it evokes a sense of the grotesque, so as to capture how these figures are despised by those who deem themselves the champions of moral rectitude. According to some proposed conceptions of a good life, the physical conditions of amputees and “deformities” were interpreted as marks of a person's moral inadequacy. In Albert Galvany's analysis of these figures and their role in the political discourse in Zhuangzi's time, he has called them “monsters”, to express how the Zhuangzi caricatures the judgemental attitudes of those who take the moral high ground (2019).

In the story involving Confucius and Toeless, Confucius is portrayed as humourless and lacking in insight, focusing superficially on whether Confucian moral ideas such as benevolence and rightness have been followed. ¹⁰ Toeless, who has had his foot mutilated as punishment for his crime, is repentant and has come to Confucius for advice. He walks on his heels to see Confucius, who could not but perceive Toeless’ injury as deserved, and as evidence of his moral deficiencies:

There was this ex-con in Lu, whose feet had been mutilated as a punishment. He heeled his way over to see Confucius, who said to him, “You were careless in your past behavior and thus have ended up in this condition. Isn’t it a little late to come to me now?” (Zhuangzi 5/25-29; trans Ziporyn, 2020, pp. 47-8)

Confucius speaks coldly to Toeless, noting that his moral deficiency is deservedly embodied, and on display. We are not told what Toeless’ crime was. It may have been a more serious crime with significant negative impact on society, or a lesser one with fairly inconsequential impact. Because this information is not provided, we might think that, if the crime was a lesser one, we may not have a case for suggesting that Confucius was contemptuous of Toeless. ¹¹ I believe that, especially if the wrongdoing is minor, we have even more reason to think Confucius has overreacted. Regarding minor wrongdoing, would we normally say to someone that they have come too late, a phrase with such finality? ¹² Confucius’ judgment is swift: in his eyes, Toeless is a lost cause. Deeming himself the arbiter of right and wrong, Confucius takes it upon himself to assess Toeless’ life, and views it contemptuously.

On what basis do we say Confucius expresses contempt for Toeless? Here, I draw on Macalester Bell's discussion of contempt, which she calls the “evaluative presentation” of contempt (2013, pp. 37–48). ¹³ Bell outlines four characteristics of a contemnor's evaluation of the other; ¹⁴ I suggest that Confucius’ response to Toeless satisfies all four characteristics:

contempt is partially constituted by a negative appraisal of the status of the object of contempt. Due to a perceived failing or defect, contempt presents its target as having compromised her status vis-à-vis a standard that the contemnor endorses. (Bell, 2013, p. 37) ¹⁵

In Confucius’ eyes, Toeless the ex-criminal deserves his punishment because of his misdeed. Confucius does not explicitly spell out the standard that Toeless has failed to meet, although he clearly holds Toeless to account. The relevant question here is not whether Toeless’ wrongdoing renders him deserving of contempt, but that Confucius perceives Toeless as blameworthy: Toeless has compromised his own moral standing, on Confucius’ assessment.

contempt is what we might call a global response toward persons…[it] takes whole persons as its object. (ibid., p. 40)

In Confucius’ words, nothing about Toeless is redeemable, not even if he has taken the trouble, with some difficulty, to consult with Confucius. Confucius does not make concessions on an all-things-considered point of view (that is, Toeless has come repentant). The remark that Toeless has come too late marks the close of Confucius’ comments to him (at this point in the story). It seems an odd remark, particularly if we think the wrongdoing was only minor. For Confucius to say that Toeless has come too late or that he sees no reason for Toeless to meet with him, suggests (rightly) that Toeless should have avoided wrongdoing in the first place, and (oddly) that Toeless can no longer redeem himself by coming to Confucius.

contempt has an important comparative or reflexive element. The contemnor makes a comparison between herself and the object of her contempt, and sees the contemned as inferior to her along some axis of comparison. (ibid. p. 41).

At this point in the conversation, Confucius has the moral upper hand. He is the teacher, and he has judged Toeless from his perspective—regardless of the nature of Toeless’ wrongdoing. There is implicit recognition by Toeless, too, of a moral gap between himself and Confucius, given that he has come seeking to learn from Confucius. Between the two of them, Confucius has the position of relative superiority. ¹⁶

the contemnor characteristically withdraws from, and sees herself as having good reason to withdraw from, the target. (ibid., p. 44)

For Confucius, Toeless is beyond redemption. Confucius signals he does not wish to engage. In his words, Toeless has come “a little late”.

This story exemplifies the four elements of contempt articulated by Bell, including especially Confucius’ contempt of Toeless’ whole person. In the previous section, we discussed the intolerant attitudes of those who believed their vision of the good life is the only correct one, and who sought to assert their moral superiority. I believe that, in this story, the Zhuangzi is concerned about the emotionally charged culture with its intolerance for diversity, that generates the kind of contempt expressed by Confucius.

But the Zhuangzi does not put up with this, of course. As the story develops, Toeless expresses disappointment in Confucius’ contempt for him. Toeless was expecting warmer reception. His coming to see Confucius should have been taken as a sign of his desire to reform his ways. Toeless says to Confucius:

I just didn’t understand where to direct my labors and undervalued my own body, and so I am lacking a foot; but as I come to you now I still have retained something worth more than a foot, which I am trying to keep whole. Heaven covers all things. Earth supports all things. I used to think that you, sir, were just like heaven and earth—I never imagined you would instead say something like this! (Zhuangzi 5/24-7; trans Ziporyn, 2020, pp. 47-8)

Toeless insists he is not entirely unworthy, rejecting Confucius’ assessment of him. He challenges Confucius’ moral authority by appealing to a higher moral order: “heaven and earth”. He cannily appeals to a standard that transcends humankind, to assert that Confucius has failed in his role as a teacher. Interestingly, at this point in the story, Confucius realises the error in his harsh assessment of Toeless. He tries to make amends: the tables are turned and the contrite Confucius seeks to learn from this former convict:

“It was rude of me. Won’t you please come in and teach me what you’ve learned?” But Toeless departed.

The change in Confucius’ attitude toward Toeless involves a shift in the way he views Toeless. Although he had previously assessed the moral worth of Toeless from a global perspective (and deemed him deserving of contempt), he now takes an all-things-considered view. The latter takes into account Toeless’ contrition, his assertion that he is not entirely unworthy, and his supplanting of Confucius’ evaluative standards with that of heaven and earth. At this point in the story, the normal order of things, with Confucius as the moral superior, has been overturned. Toeless rejects Confucius’ request for instruction. Yet, this does not seem to upset Confucius as he reinstates his role as teacher, addressing his followers:

“Learn from this, my disciples! For Toeless is a one-footed ex-convict, yet he still endeavors to learn, so as to make up for the ugliness of his past behavior. How much more should you do so, you who still have your intrinsic virtuosities whole and intact!” (Zhuangzi 5/27-9; trans Ziporyn, 2020, pp. 47-8)

There are a few points of interest contained in this part of the story. First, Confucius includes Toeless among the worthy. His evaluation of Toeless now integrates him into what Confucius regards as the circle of potential interactants. ¹⁷ Second, although Confucius now includes Toeless as a peer of his followers, he persists with his method of evaluating them on the basis of a standard (their “intrinsic virtuosities”). He tells his followers that, if Toeless can endeavour to learn, they (with their intrinsic virtuosities “intact”) should be able to do even better. Therefore, even though we might have seen a glimmer of Confucius’ stepping away from his initial contempt for Toeless, he continues in his entrenched habits of evaluating people according to his own moral standards. What is Toeless’ response to this? There is more to the story, as we will see below.

Section 3. Withdrawal from Engagement

As the story continues, Toeless comments on Confucius’ moral immaturity. After leaving Confucius, Toeless shares details of his experience with Lao Dan, ¹⁸ a revered figure in the Zhuangzi. Lao Dan asks Toeless why he had not taken the opportunity to instruct Confucius (recall that Confucius himself requested that too). In his reply, Toeless tells Lao Dan that he sees Confucius as a lost cause, and any instructions would have fallen on deaf ears:

Toeless said to Lao Dan, “Confucius is certainly far from being an Utmost Person, isn’t he? Why does he go around imitating you so subserviently? He must be seeking some bizarre, deceptive, illusory, freakish thing like a good name, not realizing that the Utmost Person views such things as handcuffs and leg chains.”

Lao Dan said, “Why don’t you simply let him see life and death as a single string, acceptable and unacceptable as a single thread, thus releasing him from his fetters? How would that be, do you think?”

Toeless said, “Heaven itself has inflicted this punishment on him—how can he be released?” (Zhuangzi 5/29-31; trans. Ziporyn, 2020, p. 48; see also Zhuangzi 6/60-74).

Toeless judges Confucius extremely harshly. He says that Confucius’ moral preoccupations are petty and misguided. Although Confucius’ standards of rightness and benevolence have been designed as tools for human flourishing, they in fact operate like fetters, even for Confucius himself. For reasons not clear to us, Toeless says Confucius’ fetters are heaven's punishment. Here, Toeless again appeals to the higher moral order of heaven. Toeless’ use of the language of fetters and punishment to caricature Confucius’ moral commitment is significant. It highlights Confucius’ imprisonment within his diminished view of a good life and of Confucius’ enslavement to his own moral ideals.

Toeless has no desire to engage any further with Confucius, even in spite of Lao Dan's encouragement for him to try a certain strategy to enlighten Confucius. It is noteworthy that Toeless shares his judgment with Lao Dan and not directly with Confucius. This perhaps reflects the disdain that Toeless now has for Confucius. How strongly does Toeless feel about Confucius’ comments to him? Is Toeless only rebuffing Confucius and simply walking away from further encounters? Or is he reciprocating contempt with contempt?

If we take the latter interpretation, we might say that Confucius and Toeless are engaged in mutual contempt. ¹⁹ However, we should proceed cautiously on this view ²⁰ as it places Toeless’ response, returning contempt for contempt, morally at par with Confucius’. This could run against the message of this story and also seems misaligned with the Zhuangzi's views on equanimity and on emotions more generally (we will consider these questions in the following section). Nevertheless, a counter-contemptual response on Toeless’ part may be morally justified. Following Michelle Mason's argument for properly focussed contempt (2003), we could say that, as a self-respecting person, Toeless appropriately expresses a reactive attitude (2018). ²¹ Toeless does not accept Confucius’ evaluation of him as less than worthy: he reminds Confucius that he is worth “more than a foot”. In addition, we might say that Toeless’ counter-contempt has a purpose, and that is to address Confucius’ unjustified moral superiority. Macalester Bell reckons that mutual contempt might be used to address those with “vices of superiority” (2013, pp. 96–136). ²² Bell illustrates how holding racists in mutual contempt, for example, can help “protect the self-esteem of members of targeted races and will answer the superbia inherent in this attitude” (ibid., p. 216). ²³ Adapting this view, we may say that Confucius’ moral superbia has been called out by Toeless. Confucius represents those who have created and imposed the moral hierarchy, whereas Toeless stands for those (amputees or people considered disabled) whose status has been abased on the basis of the hierarchy. ^{24 , 25}

Having considered the possibility that Toeless and Confucius might have been engaged in mutual contempt, I now explore the more straightforward interpretation of events in this exchange: Toeless rebuffs Confucius and withdraws from engaging with him. In this light, let us now focus on the nature of Toeless’ withdrawal. How can we justify Toeless’ withdrawal in relation to Zhuangzi's philosophy? First, withdrawal might be justified on the basis that further engagement is not likely to bring about the desired outcomes. ²⁶ This is due partly to Confucius’ staunch adherence to his own convictions. ²⁷ Recall Toeless’ comment to Lao Dan that Confucius will not be able to alter his views on moral life. Even though Confucius has shifted ground and he now includes Toeless as a peer of his followers, he continues to assess them on his measure of “intrinsic virtuosities”. Is Confucius unwilling or unable to amend his epistemological habits of evaluating others’ moral worth? From Toeless’ point of view, heaven has punished Confucius. As Toeless sees it, Confucius, being ingrained in his ways, is unable to change them. Whatever the moral qualities of Confucius might have been, Toeless’ remarks imply he is irredeemable.

Secondly, further engagement could generate undesirable consequences for society and therefore withdrawal is warranted. For Toeless to engage with Confucius on who is right and who is wrong will further entrench the attitude of intolerance. Drawing from our reflections in the previous section, the shifei debates between those whose views are irreconcilable generate antagonism: what one sees as wrong the other sees as right, and vice-versa. There is a clash of mindsets and further engagement is detrimental to the emotional lives of those who debate in this way. As we have seen, to engage in shifei debates will perpetuate a culture of intolerance of difference. The Zhuangzi emphasises that such epistemological rigidity and intolerance are immature. ²⁸

Therefore, from the point of view of this story, I believe Toeless has good reasons to withdraw from engaging with Confucius. The first is that further engagement is unlikely to produce the outcomes sought; the second that it will further perpetuate intolerant attitudes. As these reasons are specific to Toeless’ and Confucius’ encounter, we should not expect that they are generalisable across all cases of (justified) withdrawal from engagement in the Zhuangzi. For instance, there is another story in the Zhuangzi that questions the value of engagement as one's interlocutor just might not be up to the task, and the shared insights might cause perplexity (Zhuangzi 19/54-76). This is slightly different from Toeless’ assessment that Confucius’ moral vision is irredeemable. In this story, a person Bianzi realises he has caused confusion. Bianzi had accused Sun Xiu of moral superbia, pointing out that he seeks to “embellish [his] wisdom to astonish the ignorant, cultivating [his] person to show up the disreputable, all shiny and flashy, as if walking along wielding the sun and moon in [his] hands.” (Zhuangzi 19/67-68; trans. Ziporyn 2020, p. 155). However, later in the story, Bianzi regrets having engaged with Sun Xiu to share his insights on how best to live. Bianzi is concerned that he might have confused Sun Xiu, articulating insights that are beyond Sun Xiu's comprehension (Zhuangzi 19/72-76). ²⁹

In the Zhuangzi, in addition to withdrawal from engagement with specific people ³⁰ , there are other contexts that warrant withdrawal, such as withdrawal from engaging with particular practices ³¹ , withdrawal from (taking up) an official position ³² , and withdrawal with the aim to preserve or nurture life ³³ . Across these different contexts and reasons for withdrawal, we should expect that there are relevant reasons specific to these cases that would justify withdrawal. I suggest that appropriately withdrawing from engagement is an important strategy for attaining Zhuangzian equanimity; we look more closely at the features of equanimity in the final section of the paper.

Section 4. Equanimity

In the Zhuangzi, equanimity is a key characteristic of sagehood. With insights into human capabilities and the place of humans in the world, sages seek to enhance the quality of their encounters in the world by acting responsively to situations that arise. They also know to withdraw from projects that are misdirected and that impact negatively on our engagement in the world. Learning to engage responsively with the world is quite a different process from learning to abide by prescribed practices (see, e.g., Lai 2022). Sagehood is marked by an attitude of openness in one's encounters, so that salient issues in each situation are appropriately taken into account. The metaphor of wandering (you 遊) aptly captures this unique feature of Zhuangzian equanimity. ³⁴ It evokes a lighthearted approach to life that is not constantly safeguarding values or attempting to procure target outcomes. ³⁵ The idea of wandering also underlines how, in life, we should avoid participating in the hostile culture generated by thinkers with their intolerant attitudes. Because the sage is not irretrievably bound by any one set of values, her energies are not spent defending her set of values. The idea of wandering stands in stark contrast to the image of Confucius in fetters.

In this final section, I sketch an account of equanimity that incorporates appropriately justified withdrawal that, at the same time, does not shy away from exposing what is unacceptable. This section's analysis illuminates dimensions of Zhuangzian equanimity in two ways. The first explores its emotional aspects by situating the paper's account against the background of existing scholarly debates. The second locates equanimity within the Zhuangzi's vision of a good life, which is not tied down to any one way of seeing the world. The aim is to accentuate the distinctiveness of Zhuangzian equanimity, which is critically engaged in life, but which is also ready to withdraw when the moment calls for it.

Let us first explore the sage's emotional bearing in relation to equanimity. How do we understand equanimity? We might consider it a state of mind or, more aptly, a state of being in which a person is calm or composed, especially in a situation most others might find stressful (such as in an emergency). We might also associate equanimity with a person's being even-keeled or unruffled or unperturbed. They might be unperturbed by complex or difficult situations, or in urgent or even life threatening situations, where, for most people, emotions including anxiety, frustration, helplessness, and fear might be at play. Is it possible for our emotions not to disrupt our equanimity? The notion of imperturbability has a prominent place in Chris Fraser's account of sagely equanmity. In Fraser's view, the sage is “unperturbed by emotions, including even pleasurable, positive emotions such as joy or delight” (2011, p. 97; see also 100). Fraser emphasises that it is not that the sage feels emotions and is unperturbed by them, or that he is without any emotion (ibid., p. 103). Rather, he is free from feeling strongly about them (ibid., p. 113). Discussing the case of Zhuangzi's response to his wife's death (Zhuangzi 18/15–19), Fraser contrasts Zhuangzian equanimity with some states of mind that are familiar to us, for example, in relation to grief. Fraser suggests that, on encountering grief, most of us will have strong feelings but also that, over time, we might gradually recover “affective equilibrium”. By contrast, the sage's recovery takes place “preferably instantaneously” (2011, pp. 113-4). On this view, equanimity is attained as a result of the sage's not being agitated by their emotions (ibid., p. 115).

The same wariness about certain emotions upsetting equanimity is present in David Machek's view. For Machek, the sage experiences no “disruptive” emotions (2019). ³⁶ Machek's account highlights the sage's enjoyment of the activity of wandering. The sage only experiences the positive, “supportive” emotions, that is, the enjoyment of his wandering. There is no room for the kind of emotions that would disrupt this activity (ibid., 41). Fraser's and Machek's accounts have different emphases. While Fraser focuses on the strength of the emotions (that is, that sages do not feel strong emotions, whether positive or negative), Machek's emphasis is that sages do not have negative emotions.

In contrast to Fraser's and Machek's views, Amy Olberding's account considers the role of emotions at a higher-order level: the Zhuangzi does not promote any particular emotion for its own sake, including equanimity (2007). Olberding writes

That Zhuangzi challenges our habituated and often socialized responses to events should not, however, be mistaken for a claim that the emotional components of these responses ought be exchanged for, or supplanted by, a posture of simple and unfractured equanimity (ibid., p. 355).

Olberding's analysis is not focussed on distinguishing between different types of emotions that contribute to or disrupt equanimity. There is no right or wrong kind of emotion for the sage, whether joyful or sorrowful, enjoyable or disruptive. On her view, the fundamental issue is to ensure that one's emotional responses to circumstances are not merely conventional. Zhuangzian equanimity in Olberding's account seems to be a capacity rather than a state of being. ³⁷ It is identified by the sage's capacity not to have emotional responses that are merely conventional. ³⁸

How do these views of the emotional aspects of equanimity compare with the one offered in this paper? The account here is not focussed on the strength of the emotions, unlike the view held by Fraser. However, it agrees with Fraser that unperturbability is an important aspect of equanimity. Our discussion in Sections 1 and 2 highlighted the negativity of intolerant attitudes; Confucius’ contempt for Toeless was cited as an instance of such narrow-mindedness. This account holds that such negative attitudes and their attendant emotions should be avoided. Therefore, the sage should withdraw from engaging with shifei debates as those are the seedbed of negative emotions. However, this view does not insist, as Machek's does, that only the supportive emotions are experienced by the sage. (The reasons for this will become clearer when I discuss equanimity in the Zhuangzi's conception of a good life).

As with Olberding's view, the account here does not promote particular emotions, even though certain negative emotions, such as contempt, are to be avoided. Withdrawal is important in some contexts because further engagement can lodge a person deeper within a culture of intolerance of diversity. As we have seen, there is no solution available to help the thinkers with different visions agree and therefore withdrawal helps halt the perpetuation of that culture. Equanimity can arise from one's understanding about why it is sometimes necessary to withdraw, and when to do so. The sage will not participate in misdirected projects that prescribe unaccommodating visions of how people should live. This takes us to the second part of this section, the place of Zhuangzian equanimity in a good life.

As we have seen, the Zhuangzi does not hold back from criticising a culture that shortchanges humanity. ³⁹ The Zhuangzi does not explicitly offer an account—if by that we mean its particular account—of a good life. It does not prescribe a specific way to live, as that would amount to engagement in the shifei debates by denying all other views and promoting one's own. The text offers examples—not prescriptions—of how life can be fulfilling. It is telling that Zhuangzi 5, which features stories of people considered “deformed” or “disabled” as Zhuangzi's spokespersons, is entitled “The signs of fulness of power” (de chong fu, 德充符). The story of Toeless’ encounter with Confucius belongs to this chapter too. In my view, the chapter conveys the Zhuangzi's intent to celebrate a broad range of human achievements. There are yet more examples in its other chapters, not least in its stories about the many figures—the butcher, the cicada catcher, and the wheelmaker, to name a few—who excel in their “ordinary” undertakings. ⁴⁰ These activities would not have been highly regarded in comparison with those associated with official life. However, that does not prevent the men from excelling at what they do nor does it stop some of them, such as the butcher, from enjoying what he does.

It is in this light that the Zhuangzi's theme of wandering is important. That is, the metaphor helps convey the significance of an attitude that embraces open-ended engagement and which speaks against attempts to curtail individuals’ encounters with the world. Thus, insofar as the Zhuangzi does not offer a specific vision of a good life, it also rejects proposals that do. Moreover, although it embraces diversity in views of a good life, it does not accept an anything-goes conception of achievement as there are preferred models of a life lived well (see, for example, Huang, 2010). The Zhuangzi's picture of fulfilment highlights the importance of having an accurate grasp of the place of humanity within the ongoing processes of the world. In this view, a person seeks to be attuned to the patterns and contingencies in life, engaging responsively with them. The text offers a tale of many daos (道), of the potentially limitless paths or ways available to humanity. ⁴¹ At the centre of its vision is its support for the novel paths that are yet to be trod. And this is exactly what a prescriptive culture does not provide for. Because the Zhuangzi endorses open-endedness in the big questions of life, it cannot accept how that culture restricts the repertoire of humanity.

In closing, I reiterate that resisting approaches that rob the people of the initiative to carve their own paths (dao) is an important feature of the Zhuangzi. It attempts to disrupt and unsettle its opponents’ complacency about those projects that betray the possibilities for diversity across human lives. The Zhuangzi does not seek to watch over everyone, that they have pursued only what is permissible; it has no hat in this ring. However, it is not willing to let certain things pass, at a cost to what actually matters. This delicate tension concerning how we engage with the world reminds us that Zhuangzian equanimity is fragile. It is available to those who know when to be critical and when to withdraw from engagement.