## 1. Life


This philosopher's family name was "Wang," his personal
name was "Shouren," and his "courtesy name"
was 
"Bo-an."[1]
 However, he is normally known today as
"Wang Yangming," based on a nickname he adopted when he
was living in the Yangming Grotto of Kuaiji Mountain. Born in 1472
near Hangzhou in what is now Zhejiang Province, Wang was the son of a
successful official. As such, he would have received a fairly
conventional education, with a focus on the Four Books of the
Confucian tradition: the *Analects* (the sayings of Confucius
and his immediate disciples), the *Great Learning* (believed to
consist of an opening statement by Confucius with a commentary on it
by his leading disciple, Zengzi), the *Mean* (attributed to
Zisi, the grandson of Confucius, who was also a student of Zengzi),
and the *Mengzi* (the sayings and dialogues of Mencius, a
student of Zisi). The young Wang would have literally committed these
classics to memory, along with the commentaries on them by the master
of orthodox Confucianism, Zhu Xi (1130-1200). The study of
these classics-cum-commentary was thought to be morally
edifying; however, people also studied them in order to pass the civil
service examinations, which were the primary route to government
power, and with it wealth and prestige. At the age of seventeen
(1489), Wang had a conversation with a Daoist priest that left him
deeply intrigued with this alternative philosophical system and way of
life. Wang was also attracted to Buddhism, and remained torn between
Daoism, Buddhism and Confucianism for much of his early life. Whereas
Confucianism emphasizes our ethical obligations to others, especially
family members, and public service in government, the Daoism and
Buddhism of Wang's era encouraged people to overcome their attachment
to the physical world. Wang continued the serious study of Zhu Xi's
interpretation of Confucianism, but was disillusioned by an experience
in which he and a friend made a determined effort to apply what they
took to be Zhu Xi's method for achieving sagehood:



> 
> ...my friend Qian and I discussed the idea that to become a sage
> or a worthy one must investigate all the things in the world. But how
> can a person have such tremendous energy? I therefore pointed to the
> bamboos in front of the pavilion and told him to investigate them and
> see. Day and night Qian went ahead trying to investigate to the
> utmost the Pattern of the bamboos. He exhausted his mind and
> thoughts, and on the third day he was tired out and took sick. At
> first I said that it was because his energy and strength were
> insufficient. Therefore I myself went to try to investigate to the
> utmost. From morning till night, I was unable to find the Pattern of
> the bamboos. On the seventh day I also became sick because I thought
> too hard. In consequence we sighed to each other and said that it was
> impossible to be a sage or a worthy, for we do not have the tremendous
> energy to investigate things that they have. (Translation modified
> from Chan 1963, 249)
> 


As we shall see (Section 2, below), it is unclear whether Wang and
his friend were correctly applying what Zhu Xi meant by "the
investigation of things." However, Wang's experience of finding
it impractical to seek for the Pattern of the universe in external
things left a deep impression on him, and influenced the later course
of his philosophy.


Wang continued to study Daoism as well as Buddhism, but also showed
a keen interest in military techniques and the craft of writing
elegant compositions. Meanwhile, he progressed through the various
levels of the civil service examinations, finally passing the highest
level in 1499. After this, Wang had a meteoric rise in the
government, including distinguished service in offices overseeing
public works, criminal prosecution, and the examination system.
During this period, Wang began to express disdain for overly refined
literary compositions like those he had produced in his earlier years.
Wang would later criticize those who "waste their time competing
with one another writing flowery compositions in order to win acclaim
in their age, and...no longer comprehend conduct that honors what
is fundamental, esteems what is real, reverts to simplicity, and
returns to purity" (Tiwald and Van Norden 2014, 275).


In addition, Wang started to turn his back on Daoism and Buddhism,
which he came to regard as socially irresponsible:
"...simply because they did not understand what it is to
rest in the ultimate good and instead exerted their selfish minds
toward the achievement of excessively lofty goals, [Buddhists and
Daoists] were lost in vagaries, illusions, emptiness, and stillness
and had nothing to do with the family, state or world" (Tiwald
and Van Norden 2014, 244, gloss mine). Nonetheless, Wang continued to
show an intimate familiarity with Daoist and Buddhist literature and
concepts throughout his career.


A life-changing event for Wang occurred in 1506. A eunuch
who had assumed illegitimate influence at court had several able
officials imprisoned for opposing him. Wang wrote a
"memorial" to the emperor in protest. The eunuch
responded by having Wang publicly beaten and exiled to an
insignificant position in a semi-civilized part of what is now
Guizhou Province. Wang had to face considerable physical and
psychological hardship in this post, but through these challenges he
achieved a deep philosophical awakening (1508), which he later
expressed in a poem he wrote for his students:



> 
> Everyone has within an unerring compass;  
>  The root and source of
> the myriad transformations lies in the mind.  
>  I laugh when I
> think that, earlier, I saw things the other way around;  
> 
> Following branches and leaves, I searched outside! (Ivanhoe 2009, 181)
> 


In other words, looking outside oneself for moral truth, as he and
his friend Qian had tried to do when studying the bamboos, was
ignoring the root of moral insight, which is one's own innate
understanding.


Fortunately for Wang, in the year when his term of service in
Guizhou was over (1510), the eunuch who had Wang beaten and banished
was himself executed. Wang's official career quickly returned to its
stratospheric level of achievement, with high-ranking posts and
exceptional achievements in both civil and military positions. This
inevitably led to opposition from the faction-ridden court. Wang
was even accused of conspiring with the leader of a rebellion that
Wang had himself put down. 


Wang had begun to attract devoted disciples even before his exile
to Guizhou, and they gradually compiled the *Record for
Practice* (the anthology of his sayings, correspondence, and
dialogues that is one of our primary sources for Wang's
philosophy). It is reflective of Wang's philosophy that the
discussions recorded in this work occurred in the midst of his active
life in public affairs. Near the end of his life, Wang was called
upon to suppress yet another rebellion (1527). The night before he
left, one of his disciples recorded the "Inquiry on the
*Great Learning*," which was intended as a primer of
Wang's philosophy for new disciples. Wang put down the rebellion, but
his health had been declining for several years, and he died soon
afterward (1529).


On his deathbed, Wang said, " 'This mind'
is luminous and bright. What more is there to 
say?"[2]


## 2. Intellectual Context


During Wang's lifetime, the dominant intellectual movement was
Neo-Confucianism (in Chinese, *Daoxue*, or
the Learning of the Way). Neo-Confucianism traces its origins
to Han Yu and Li Ao in the late Tang dynasty (618-906), but it
only came to intellectual maturity in the Song and Southern Song
dynasties (960-1279), with the theorizing of Zhou Dunyi, Zhang
Zai, Cheng Yi, his brother Cheng Hao, and Zhu Xi.
Neo-Confucianism originally developed as a Confucian reaction
against Buddhism. Ironically, though, the Neo-Confucians were
deeply influenced by Buddhism and adopted many key Buddhists concepts,
including the notions that the diverse phenomena of the universe are
manifestations of some underlying unity, and that selfishness is the
fundamental vice. 


Zhu Xi synthesized the thought of earlier Neo-Confucians, and
his interpretation of the Four Books became the basis of the civil
service examinations (see Section 1, above). Zhu held that everything
in existence has two aspects, Pattern and *qi*. Pattern
(*li*, also translated "principle") is the
underlying structure of the universe. *Qi* is the
spatio-temporal stuff that constitutes concrete objects. The
complete Pattern is fully present in each entity in the universe;
however, entities are individuated by having distinct allotments of
*qi* (variously translated as "ether,"
"psychophysical stuff," "vital fluid,"
"material force," and others). In addition to having
spatio-temporal location, *qi* has qualitative
distinctions, described metaphorically in terms of degrees of
"clarity" and "turbidity." The more
"clear" the *qi*, the greater the extent to which
the Pattern manifests. This explains how speciation is possible. For
example, plants have more "clear" *qi* than do
rocks, which is reflected in the more complex repertoire of
interactions plants have with their environments.


Neo-Confucian metaphysics, ethics, and philosophical
psychology are systematically connected. Humans have the most clear
*qi* of any being. However, some humans have especially clear
*qi*, and as a result manifest the virtues, while others have
comparatively turbid *qi*, and therefore are prone to vice.
The state of one's *qi* is not fixed, though. Through ethical
cultivation, any human can clarify his *qi*, and thereby become
more virtuous. Similarly, through laxness, one can allow one's
*qi* to morally deteriorate. Because the Pattern is fully
present in each human, everyone has complete innate ethical knowledge.
However, due to the obscurations of *qi*, the manifestations of
this knowledge are sporadic and inconsistent. Thus, a king who shows
benevolence when he takes pity on an ox being led to slaughter and
spares it may fail to show benevolence in his treatment of his own
subjects (*Mengzi* 1A7). Similarly, a person might manifest
righteousness when he disdains to even consider an illicit sexual
relationship; however, the same person might see nothing shameful
about flattering the worst traits and most foolish policies of a ruler
whom he serves (*Mengzi* 3B3). Because humans all share the
same Pattern, we are parts of a potentially harmonious whole. In some
sense, we form "one body" with other humans and the rest
of the universe. Consequently, the fundamental human virtue is
benevolence, which involves recognition of our shared nature with
others.[3]
Correspondingly, the fundamental vice is selfishness. Cheng Hao uses
a medical metaphor to explain the relationship between ethics and
personal identity:



> 
> A medical text describes numbness of the hands and feet as being
> "unfeeling." This expression describes it perfectly.
> Benevolent people regard Heaven, Earth, and the myriad things as one
> Substance. Nothing is not oneself. If you recognize something as
> yourself, there are no limits to how far [your compassion] will go.
> But if you do not identify something as part of yourself, you will
> have nothing to do with it. This is like how, when hands and feet are
> "unfeeling," the *qi* does not flow and one does
> not identify them as part of oneself. (Tiwald and Van Norden 2014,
> 201)
> 


Just as those whose hands and feet are "unfeeling" are
not bothered by injuries to their own limbs, so do those who are
ethically "unfeeling" fail to show concern for other
humans. In both cases, one fails to act appropriately because one
fails to recognize that something is a part of oneself.


Neo-Confucians regarded the ancient philosopher Mencius (4th
century BCE) as having presented an especially incisive interpretation
of Confucianism. They referred to him as the "Second
Sage," second in importance only to Confucius himself, and often
appealed to his vocabulary, arguments, and 
examples.[4] 
 In particular,
Neo-Confucians adopted Mencius's view that human nature is good,
and that wrongdoing is the result of humans ignoring the promptings of
their innate virtues. Physical desires are one of the primary causes
for the failure to heed one's innate moral sense. There is nothing
intrinsically immoral about desires for fine food, sex, wealth, etc.,
but we will be led to wrongdoing if we pursue them without giving
thought to the well-being of others (*Mengzi* 6A15).
Neo-Confucians also adopted Mencius's list of four cardinal
virtues: benevolence, righteousness, wisdom, and propriety.
Benevolence is manifested in the emotion of compassion, which involves
sympathizing with the suffering of others and acting appropriately on
that sympathy. For instance, a benevolent ruler could never be
indifferent to the well-being of his subjects, and would work
tirelessly to alleviate their suffering. Righteousness is manifested
in the emotion of disdain or shame at the thought of doing what is
dishonorable, especially in the face of temptations of wealth or
physical desire. For example, a righteous person would not cheat at a
game, or accept a bribe. Wisdom is manifested in approval or
disapproval that reflects sound judgment about means-end
deliberation and about the character of others. Thus, a wise official
would know which policies to support and which to oppose, and would be
inventive in devising solutions to complex problems. Propriety is
manifested in respect or deference toward elders and legitimate
authorities, particularly as expressed in ceremonies or etiquette.
For instance, a person with propriety would willingly defer to elder
family members most of the time, but would be motivated to serve a
guest before his elder brother. 


The preceding views are shared, in broad outline, by all
Neo-Confucian philosophers. The primary issue they debated was
the proper method of ethical cultivation. In other words, how is it
possible for us to consistently and reliably access and act on our
innate ethical knowledge? Other disagreements among them (on
seemingly recondite issues of metaphysics and the interpretation of
the Confucian classics) can often be traced to more fundamental
disagreements over ethical cultivation. For Zhu Xi, almost all humans
are born with *qi* that is so turbid that it is impossible for
them to consistently know what is virtuous and act accordingly without
external assistance. The remedy is carefully studying the classics
written by the ancient sages, ideally under the guidance of a wise
teacher. Although the classics were written in response to concrete
historical situations, their words allow us to grasp the Pattern at a
certain level of abstraction from its instantiations. However, Zhu Xi
states that merely understanding the Pattern is insufficient for the
exercise of virtue. One must achieve Sincerity
(*cheng*), a continual awareness of moral knowledge in
the face of 
temptations.[5] 


In his own lifetime, Zhu Xi's leading critic was Lu Xiangshan
(1139-1193). Lu argued that, because the Pattern is fully
present in the mind of each human, it is not necessary to engage in an
intellectually demanding process of study in order to recover one's
moral knowledge:



> 
> Righteousness and Pattern are in the minds of human beings. As a
> matter of fact, these are what Heaven has endowed us with, and they
> can never be effaced or eliminated [from our minds]. If one becomes
> obsessed with [desires for] things and reaches the point where one
> violates Pattern and transgresses righteousness, usually this is
> simply because one fails to reflect upon these things [i.e., the
> righteousness and Pattern that lie within one]. If one truly is able
> to turn back and reflect upon these things, then what is right and
> wrong and what one should cleave to and what one should subtly reject
> will begin to stir, separate, become clear, and leave one resolute and
> without doubts. (Tiwald and Van Norden 2014, 251-52, glosses in
> original translation)
> 


In emphasizing the innate human capacity for moral judgment, Lu
adopted the phrase "pure knowing" from *Mengzi*
7A15. In its original context, Mencius writes that "Among babes
in arms there are none that do not know to love their parents,"
and describes this as an instance of "pure knowing," which
humans "know without pondering" (Tiwald and Van Norden
2014, 218). Lu explains:



> 
> Pure knowing lies within human beings; although some people become
> mired in dissolution, pure knowing still remains undiminished and
> enduring [within them]. ... Truly, if they can turn back and seek
> after it, then, without needing to make a concerted effort, what is
> right and wrong, what is fine and foul, will become exceedingly clear,
> and they will decide for themselves what to like and dislike, what to
> pursue and what to abandon. (Tiwald and Van Norden 2014, 252)
> 


Although there were always Confucians like Lu who disagreed with
Zhu Xi, the latter's interpretation became dominant after the
government sponsored it as the official interpretation for the civil
service examinations. By the time of Wang Yangming, Zhu Xi's approach
had ossified into a stale orthodoxy that careerists mindlessly
parroted in an effort to pass the examinations.


## 3. Unity of Knowing and Acting


Some aspects of Wang's philosophy can be understood as refining or
drawing out the full implications of Lu Xiangshan's critique of Zhu
Xi. Like Lu, Wang stressed that the Pattern is fully present in the
mind of every person: "The mind *is* Pattern. Is there
any affair outside the mind? Is there any Pattern outside the
mind?" (Tiwald and Van Norden 2014,
 264)[6] 
 As a result, the
theoretical study of ethics is unnecessary. All a moral agent needs
to do is exercise "pure knowing." This view may seem naive
at first glance. However, this is partially due to the different foci
of Chinese and Western ethics. Metaethics and normative ethical
theory are substantial parts of Western ethics, but less central to
Chinese ethics. In addition, recent Western ethics manifests an
interest in abstract ethical dilemmas that is perhaps disproportionate
to the relevance of these quandaries in practice. In contrast, the
focus of much Chinese ethics, particularly Confucianism, is applied
ethical cultivation. Consequently, Lu and Wang were primarily
interested in having a genuine positive effect on the ethical lives of
their followers. There is some plausibility to the claim that (even
in our own complex, multicultural intellectual context) most of us
know what our basic ethical obligations are. For example, as a
teacher, I have an obligation to grade assignments promptly and
fairly. As a colleague, I have an obligation to take my turn serving
as chair. As a parent, I have an obligation to make time to share my
children's interests. Due to selfish desires, it is tempting to
procrastinate in grading essays, or try to evade departmental service,
or ignore the emotional needs of one's children. However, it is not
as if it is genuinely difficult to figure out that these are our
obligations.


Wang's most distinctive and well-known doctrine is the unity of
knowing and acting (*zhi xing he yi*).
In order to grasp the significance of this doctrine, consider a
student who is being questioned by a college honor code panel after
being caught plagiarizing an essay. If the honor code panel asked the
student whether he knew that plagiarism was wrong, it would not be
surprising for the student to reply, "Yes, I knew it was wrong
to plagiarize my essay, but I wanted so much to get an easy A that I
gave in to temptation." Western philosophers would describe this
as a case of *akrasia*, or weakness of will. Zhu Xi, along
with many Western philosophers like Aristotle, would acknowledge that
the student had correctly described his psychological state. However,
Wang Yangming would deny that the student actually knew that
plagiarism was wrong: "There never have been people who know but
do not act. Those who 'know' but do not act simply do not
yet know" (Tiwald and Van Norden 2014, 267). One of Wang's
primary claims is that merely verbal assent is inadequate to
demonstrate actual knowledge: "One cannot say he knows filial
piety or brotherly respect simply because he knows how to *say*
something filial or brotherly. Knowing pain offers another good
example. One must have experienced pain oneself in order to know
pain." Wang also adduces cold and hunger as things that one must
experience in order to know. We might object that Wang's example
shows, at most, that someone must have had an experience of goodness
or evil *at some point in his life* in order to know what it
means for something to be good or evil. This falls short of the
conclusion that Wang needs, though, for just as I can know what you
mean when you say "I am hungry" even if I am not currently
motivated to eat, so might I know that "plagiarism is
wrong," even if I am not motivated to avoid plagiarism myself in
this circumstance.




A more promising line of argument for Wang is his appropriation of an
example from the *Great Learning* (Commentary 6), which
suggests that loving the good is "like loving a lovely
sight," while hating evil is "like hating a hateful
odor" (Tiwald and Van Norden 2014, 191). To recognize an odor
as disgusting (a kind of knowing) is to be repulsed by it (a
motivation), which leads to avoiding the odor or eliminating its
source (actions). The Chinese phrase rendered "loving a lovely
sight" (*hao hao se*) has connotations
of finding someone sexually 
attractive.[7]
 To regard someone as sexually attractive (a
kind of cognition) is to be drawn toward them (a kind of motivation
that can lead to action). To this, one might object that Wang's
examples show, at most, that knowing something is good or bad requires
that one have *some* level of appropriate motivation. Even if
we grant the relevance of Wang's examples, it is possible to have an
intrinsic motivation that does not result in action. Recognizing that
someone is sexually attractive certainly does not always result in
pursuing an assignation, for example.


 Perhaps Wang's most compelling line of argument is a pragmatic one
about the aim or purpose behind discussing knowing and acting. He
allows that it may be useful and legitimate to discuss knowing
separately from acting or acting separately from knowing, but only in
order to address the failings of specific kinds of individuals. On
the one hand, "there is a type of person in the world who
foolishly acts upon impulse without engaging in the slightest thought
or reflection. Because they always act blindly and recklessly, it is
necessary to talk to them about knowing...," without
emphasizing acting. On the other hand, "[t]here is also a type
of person who is vague and irresolute; they engage in speculation
while suspended in a vacuum and are unwilling to apply themselves to
any concrete actions" (268). These latter people benefit from
advice that emphasizes action, without necessarily discussing
knowledge. However, those in Wang's era who distinguish knowledge and
action (and here he has in mind those who follow the orthodox
philosophy of Zhu Xi) "separate knowing and acting into two
distinct tasks to perform and think that one must first know and only
then can one act." As a result, they become nothing more than
pedantic bookworms, who study ethics without ever living up to its
ideals or trying to achieve positive change in the world around them.
Wang concludes, "My current teaching regarding the unity of
knowing and acting is a medicine directed precisely at this
disease."


## 4. Interpretation of the *Great Learning*


In the standard Confucian curriculum of Wang's era, the *Great
Learning* was the first of the Four Books that students were
assigned, and Zhu Xi's commentary on it often made a lasting
impression on them. In the opening of the *Great Learning*,
Confucius describes the steps in self-cultivation:



> 
> The ancients who desired to enlighten the enlightened Virtue of the
> world would first put their states in order. Those who desired to put
> their states in order would first regulate their families. Those who
> desired to regulate their families would first cultivate their
> selves. Those who desired to cultivate their selves would first
> correct their minds. Those who desired to correct their minds would
> first make their thoughts have Sincerity. Those who desired to make
> their thoughts have Sincerity would first extend their knowledge.
> Extending knowledge lies in *ge wu*. (Translation
> slightly modified from Tiwald and Van Norden 2014, 188-189)
> 


*Ge wu* is left unexplained in the *Great Learning.*
However, Zhu Xi, following the interpretation of Cheng Yi, claims
that



> 
> ...what is meant by "extending knowledge lies in *ge
> wu*" is that desiring to extend my knowledge lies in
> encountering things and exhaustively investigating their Pattern. In
> general, the human mind is sentient and never fails to have knowledge,
> while the things of the world never fail to have the Pattern. It is
> only because the Pattern is not yet exhaustively investigated that
> knowledge is not fully fathomed. Consequently, at the beginning of
> education in the Great Learning, the learner must be made to encounter
> the things of the world, and never fail to follow the Pattern that one
> already knows and further exhaust it, seeking to arrive at the
> farthest points. When one has exerted effort for a long time, one
> day, like something suddenly cracking open, one will know in a manner
> that binds it all together. (Translation slightly modified from Tiwald
> and Van Norden 2014, 191)
> 


Following Zhu Xi's interpretations, most translators today render
*ge wu* as "investigating things." Wang and his
friend Qian were trying to "investigate things" in this
manner when they stared attentively at the bamboos, struggling to
grasp their underlying Pattern. It is questionable, though, whether
this is what Zhu Xi had in mind. Zhu certainly thought the Pattern
was present in everything, and could potentially be investigated in
even the most mundane of objects. However, he emphasized that the
best method to learn about the Pattern was through studying the
classics texts of Confucianism, particularly the Four Books. 


As important as learning was for Zhu Xi, he stressed that it was
possible to know what is right and wrong yet not act on it:
"Knowledge and action always need each other. It's like how
eyes cannot walk without feet, but feet cannot see without eyes. If
we discuss them in terms of their sequence, knowledge comes first.
But if we discuss them in terms of importance, action is what is
important" (Tiwald and Van Norden 2014, 180-81). What
connects knowledge and action, on Zhu Xi's account, is Sincerity.
Sincerity (*cheng*) is a subtle and multifaceted notion
in Neo-Confucian thought. However, the *Great Learning*
focuses on one key aspect of it: "What is meant by 'making
thoughts have Sincerity' is to let there be no self-deception.
It is like hating a hateful odor, or loving a lovely sight. The is
called not being conflicted" (Tiwald and Van Norden 2014, 191).
In other words, humans engage in wrongdoing through a sort of
self-deception in which they allow themselves to ignore the
promptings of their moral sense, and become motivated solely by their
physical desires for sex, food, wealth, etc. Once one knows what is
right and wrong, one must then make an effort to keep that knowledge
present to one's consciousness, so that it becomes motivationally
efficacious. As Zhu Xi explains, "...those who desire to
cultivate themselves, when they know to do good in order to avoid the
bad, must then genuinely make an effort and forbid
self-deception, making their hatred of the [ethically] hateful
be like their hating a hateful odor, and their loving what is good
like their loving a lovely sight" (Tiwald and Van Norden 2014,
192). 


Wang challenged almost every aspect of Zhu Xi's interpretation of
the *Great Learning.* He regarded Zhu Xi's account as not just
theoretically mistaken but dangerously misleading for those seeking to
improve themselves ethically. However, Wang recognized that students
who had memorized Zhu Xi's interpretation to prepare for the civil
service examinations would have difficulty understanding the text any
other way. Consequently, when he accepted a new disciple, Wang often
began by explaining his alternative interpretation of the *Great
Learning*, and invited students to ask questions. Wang's approach
is preserved in a brief but densely argued work, "Questions on
the *Great Learning*." Let's begin at the apparent
foundation of the *Great Learning*'s program: *ge wu.*
Whereas Zhu Xi argues that *ge wu* is literally "reaching
things," meaning to intellectually grasp the Pattern in things
and situations, Wang argues that *ge wu* means
"rectifying things," including both one's own thoughts and
the objects of those thoughts. For Zhu Xi, *ge wu* is
primarily about gaining knowledge, while for Wang it is about
motivation and 
action.[8] 


The fact that the *Great Learning* explicates *ge wu*
in terms of "extending knowledge" might seem to support
Zhu Xi's interpretation. However, Wang offers a plausible alternative
explanation: "To fully extend one's knowledge is not like the
so-called 'filling out' of what one knows that later
scholars [like Zhu Xi] talk about. It is simply to extend fully the
'pure knowing' of my own mind. Pure knowing is what
[Mencius] was talking about when he said that all humans have
'the mind of approval and disapproval.' The mind of
approval and disapproval 'knows without pondering' and is
'capable without learning' " (Tiwald and Van
Norden 2014, 248, glosses 
mine).[9]
 Wang is suggesting that "extending
knowledge" refers simply to exercising our innate faculty of
moral awareness, which Mencius refers to as "pure
knowing." As David S. Nivison explains, "We might say that
Wang's 'extending' of knowledge is more like extending
one's arm than, say, extending one's vocabulary" (Nivison 1996a,
225).


According to Zhu Xi, the opening of the *Great Learning*
lists a series of steps that are, at least to some extent, temporally
distinct. Wang demurs:



> 
> While one can say that there is an ordering of first and last in this
> sequence of spiritual training, the training itself is a unified whole
> that cannot be divided into any ordering of first and last. While
> this sequence of spiritual training cannot be divided into any
> ordering of first and last, only when every aspect of its practice is
> highly refined can one be sure that it will not be deficient in the
> slightest degree. (Tiwald and Van Norden 2014, 250)
> 



Wang's argument here is similar to the one he made about the verbal
distinction between knowing and acting (Section 3, above). He claimed
that the ancient sages recognized that knowing and acting were
ultimately one thing, but sometimes discussed them separately for
pedagogic purposes, to help those who underemphasized one aspect of
this unity. Similarly, Wang suggests, the *Great Learning*
uses multiple terms to describe various aspects of the unified
exercise of moral agency, but does not mean to suggest that these are
actually distinct temporal stages:



> 
> ...we can say that "self," "mind,"
> "thoughts," "knowledge," and
> "things" describe the sequence of spiritual training.
> While each has its own place, in reality they are but a single thing.
> We can say that "*ge wu*," "extending,"
> "making Sincere," "correcting," and
> "cultivating" describe the spiritual training used in the
> course of this sequence. While each has its own name, in reality they
> are but a single affair. What do we mean by "self"? It
> is the way we refer to the physical operations of the mind. What do
> we mean by "mind"? It is the way we refer to the luminous
> and intelligent master of the person. (Translation slightly modified
> from Tiwald and Van Norden 2014, 247)
> 


Wang even interprets the key metaphor of the *Great
Learning* in a very different way from Zhu Xi. For Zhu Xi, hating
evil "like hating a hateful odor," and loving good
"like loving a lovely sight" are goals that we must aspire
to, but can only achieve after an arduous process of ethical
cultivation. For Wang Yangming, these phrases describe what our
attitudes toward good and evil can and should be at the very inception
of ethical cultivation:



> 
> ...the *Great Learning* gives us examples of true knowing
> and acting, saying it is "like loving a lovely sight" or
> "hating a hateful odor." Seeing a lovely sight is a case
> of knowing, while loving a lovely sight is a case of acting. As soon
> as one sees that lovely sight, one naturally loves it. It is not as
> if you first see it and only then, intentionally, you decide to love
> it. Smelling a hateful odor is a case of knowing, while hating a
> hateful odor is a case of acting. As soon as one smells that hateful
> odor, one naturally hates it. It is not as if you first smell it and
> only then, intentionally, you decide to hate it. Consider the case of
> a person with a stuffed-up nose. Even if he sees a malodorous
> object right in front of him, the smell does not reach him, and so he
> does not hate it. This is simply not to know the hateful
> odor. (Tiwald and Van Norden 2014, 267)
> 


In summary, Zhu Xi and Wang agree that the *Great Learning*
is an authoritative statement on ethical cultivation, expressing the
wisdom of the ancient sages. However, for Zhu Xi, it is analogous to
a recipe, with distinct steps that must be performed in order. For
Wang, the *Great Learning* is analogous to a description of a
painting, in which shading, coloring, composition, perspective and
other factors are aspects of a unified effect. 


## 5. Metaphysics


Wang was not primarily interested in theoretical issues. However,
some of his comments suggest a subtle metaphysical view that supports
his conception of ethics. This metaphysics is phrased in terms of the
Pattern/*qi* framework (see Section 2, above), and also makes
use of the Substance/Function distinction. Substance
(*ti*), literally body, is an entity in itself, while
Function is its characteristic or appropriate activity or
manifestation: a lamp is Substance, its light is function; an eye is
Substance, seeing is its Function; water is Substance, waves are its
Function. The Substance/Function distinction goes back to the Daoists
of the Han dynasty (202 BCE-220 CE) and became central among
Chinese Buddhists before being picked up by Neo-Confucians.
Part of the attraction of this vocabulary is that it gives
philosophers drawn to a sort of monism the ability to distinguish
between two aspects of what they regard as ultimately a unity. 


Wang argues that the human mind is identical with the Pattern of
the universe, and as such it forms "one body"
(*yi ti*, one Substance) with "Heaven, Earth,
and the myriad creatures" of the world. The difference between
the virtuous and the vicious is that the former recognize that their
minds form one body with everything else, while the latter,
"because of the space between their own physical form and those
of others, regard themselves as separate" (Tiwald and Van Norden
2014, 241). As evidence for the claim that the minds of all humans
form one body with the rest of the universe, Wang appeals to a thought
experiment first formulated by Mencius: "when they see a child
[about to] fall into a well, [humans] cannot avoid having a mind of
alarm and compassion for the child" (Tiwald and Van Norden 2014,
241-242; *Mengzi* 2A6). Wang then anticipates a series
of objections, and offers further thought experiments to motivate the
conclusion that only some underlying metaphysical identity between
humans and other things can account for the broad range of our
reactions to them:



> 
> Someone might object that this response is because the child belongs
> to the same species. But when they hear the anguished cries or see
> the frightened appearance of birds or beasts, they cannot avoid a
> sense of being unable to bear it. ... Someone might object that
> this response is because birds and beasts are sentient creatures. But
> when they see grass or trees uprooted and torn apart, they cannot
> avoid feeling a sense of sympathy and distress. ... Someone might
> object that this response is because grass and trees have life and
> vitality. But when they see tiles and stones broken and destroyed,
> they cannot avoid feeling a sense of concern and regret. ... This
> shows that the benevolence that forms one body [with Heaven, Earth,
> and the myriad creatures] is something that even the minds of petty
> people possess. (Tiwald and Van Norden 2014, 242)
> 


Wang's first three thought experiments seem fairly compelling at
first glance. Almost all humans would, at least as a first instinct,
have "alarm and compassion" if suddenly confronted with
the sight of a child about to fall into a well. In addition, humans
often do show pity for the suffering of non-human animals.
Finally, the fact that humans maintain public parks and personal
gardens shows some kind of concern for plants. 


It is not a decisive objection to Wang's view that humans often
fail to manifest benevolence to other humans, non-human animals,
or plants. Wang is arguing that all humans manifest these responses
sometimes (and that this is best explained by his favored
metaphysics). Like all Neo-Confucians, Wang readily
acknowledges that selfish desires frequently block the manifestation
of our shared nature. However, there are three lines of objection to
Wang's view that are harder to dismiss. (1) There is considerable
empirical evidence that some humans never manifest *any*
compassion for the suffering of others. In the technical literature
of psychology, these people are a subset of those identified as having
"Antisocial Personality Disorder" as defined in
 DSM-V.[10]
 (2) Wang asserts that when humans "see tiles and stones broken
and destroyed, they cannot avoid feeling a sense of concern and
regret." This claim is important for Wang's argument, because he
takes this reaction to be evidence for the conclusion that our minds
are ultimately "one Substance" with *everything* in
the universe, not merely with members of our species, or other
sentient creatures, or other living things. We can perhaps motivate
Wang's intuition by considering how we might react if we saw that
someone had spray painted graffiti on Half Dome in Yosemite National
Park. The defacement of this scenic beauty would probably provoke
sadness in those of us with an eye for natural beauty. However, it is
certainly not obvious that everyone manifests even sporadic concern
for "tiles and stones," which is what he needs for his
conclusion. (3) Even if we grant Wang his intuitions, it is not clear
that the particular metaphysics he appeals to is the best explanation
of those intuitions. As Darwin himself suggested, our compassion for
other humans can be explained in evolutionary terms. In addition, the
"biophilia hypothesis" (Wilson [1984]) provides an
evolutionary explanation for the human fondness for other animals and
plants. There is not an obvious evolutionary explanation for why
humans seem engaged by non-living natural beauty, like mountain
peaks, but as we have seen it seems questionable how common this trait
is.


## 6. Influence


Wang is regarded, along with Lu Xiangshan, as one of the founders
of the Lu-Wang School of Neo-Confucianism, or the School
of Mind. This is one of the two major wings of
Neo-Confucianism, along with the Cheng-Zhu School (named
after Cheng Yi and Zhu Xi), or School of Pattern. He has frequently
been an inspiration for critics of the orthodox Cheng-Zhu
School, not just in China but also in Japan. In Japan, his philosophy
is referred to as *Oyomeigaku*, and its major
adherents included Nakae Toju (1608-1648) and Kumazawa
Banzan (1619-1691). Wang's thought was also an inspiration for
some of the leaders of the Meiji Restoration (1868), which began
Japan's rapid 
modernization.[11]


In China, Confucianism underwent a significant shift during the
Qing dynasty (1644-1911) with the development of the Evidential
Research movement. Evidential Research emphasized carefully
documented and tightly argued work on concrete issues of philology,
history, and even mathematics and civil engineering. Such scholars
generally looked with disdain on "the Song-Ming
Confucians" (including both Zhu Xi and Wang Yangming), whom they
accused of producing "empty words" that could not be
 substantiated.[12] 
 One of the few Evidential Research
scholars with a serious interest in ethics was Dai Zhen
(1724-1777). However, he too was critical of both the
Cheng-Zhu and the Lu-Wang schools. The three major prongs
of Dai's critique of Neo-Confucians like Wang were that they (1)
encouraged people to treat their subjective opinions as the
deliverances of some infallible moral sense, (2) projected
Buddhist-inspired concepts back onto the ancient Confucian
classics, and (3) ignored the ethical value of ordinary physical
desires. 


One of the major trends in contemporary Chinese philosophy is
"New Confucianism." New Confucianism is a movement to
adapt Confucianism to modern thought, showing how it is consistent
with democracy and modern science. New Confucianism is distinct from
what we in the West call Neo-Confucianism, but it adopts many
Neo-Confucian concepts, in particular the view that humans share
a trans-personal nature which is constituted by the universal
Pattern. Many New Confucians agree with Mou Zongsan (1909-1995)
that Wang had a deeper and more orthodox understanding of Confucianism
than did Zhu 
Xi.[13] 


Wang's philosophy is of considerable intrinsic interest, because of
the ingenuity of his arguments, the systematicity of his views, and
the precision of his textual exegesis. Beyond that, Wang's work has
the potential to inform contemporary ethics. Although his particular
metaphysics may not be appealing, many of his ideas can be
naturalized. It may be hard to believe that everything is unified by
a shared, underlying Pattern, but it does seem plausible that we are
deeply dependent upon one another and upon our natural environment for
our survival and our identities. I am a husband, a father, a teacher,
and a researcher, but only because I have a wife, children, students,
and colleagues. In some sense, we do form "one body" with
others, and Wang provides provocative ideas about how we should
respond to this insight. In addition, Wang's fundamental criticism of
Zhu Xi's approach, that it produces pedants who only study and talk
about ethics, rather than people who strive to actually *be*
ethical, has considerable contemporary relevance, particularly given
the empirical evidence that our current practices of ethical education
have little positive effect on ethical behavior (Schwitzgebel and Rust
2014; and cf. Schwitzgebel 2013 (Other Internet Resources)).