Li Zhi (1527âÂÂ1602), often known by his pseudonym Zhuowu (which means, âÂÂI who am smartâÂÂ), was a Chinese philosopher, historian and writer of the late Ming dynasty. A critic of the Neo-Confucianist views espoused by Zhu Xi, which was then the orthodoxy of the Ming government, he was persecuted and committed suicide in prison.
Li Zhi was born in Jinjiang, Fujian province (in modern Quanzhou). His ancestor by seven generations was Lin Nu, the son of Li Lü, a maritime merchant. Lin Nu visited Hormuz in Persia in 1376, converted to Islam upon marriage to a Semu girl ("娶è²ç®女") (who was most likely either Persian or Arab), and brought her back to Quanzhou. This was recorded in the Lin and Li genealogyãÂÂæÂÂæÂÂå®ÂèÂÂãÂÂ. However, the new faith did not take root in his lineage and the family stopped practising Islam during the time of his grandfather. His father made a living by teaching, and Li Zhi was therefore educated from an early age.
In 1551, he passed the village examinations, and five years later was appointed as a lecturer in Gongcheng (in modern Huixian, Henan Province). In 1560 he was then promoted to the Guozijian in Nanjing as a professor, but went into filial mourning, returning to his native Quanzhou. During this time he participated in the defence of the coastal city against Wokou raids. After returning from mourning in 1563, he was assigned to the Guozijian in Beijing.
In 1566, he served in the Ministry of Rites in Beijing, where he became learned in Yangmingism as well as Buddhist thought. He was then assigned as a prefect of Yao'an County in Yunnan in 1577, but left his post three years later. After this, he took up a teaching post in Hubei on the invitation of Geng Dingli, but was attacked as a heretic by Dingli's brother, the scholar and official Geng Dingxiang, and eventually moved to Macheng. In 1588, he took the tonsure and became a Buddhist monk, but did not follow the ascetic lifestyle of other monks. Two years later, his work A Book to Hide was printed.
He travelled during the 1590s, visiting Jining and Nanjing, where he met with Matteo Ricci and discussed the differences between Buddhist and Catholic thought. Returning to Macheng in 1600, he was again forced to leave after attacks from the local magistrate for his philosophical views.
In 1602, after being accused of deceiving society with heretical ideas by Zhang Wenda and other officials of the Censorate, he was arrested and imprisoned, where he committed suicide. Having heard that he was to be exiled to his native Fujian, he cut his throat with a shaving knife which he seized from a servant. After his death, he was buried in Tongzhou, where his grave still remains.
Li Zhi's philosophy was based upon Neo-Confucianism, though he was a staunch critic of the then-orthodox Cheng-Zhu School, and indeed identified himself as a heretic. He can be seen as having been influenced by Wang Yangming (1472âÂÂ1529), as well as the Taizhou School. He denied that women were inferior to men in native intelligence, and argued that many women in Chinese history, such as Wu Zetian, had actually been superior to men. However, he did not believe women should be emancipated and commended widows who chose suicide over remarriage.
The Childlike Heart-Mind (tóng xën; ç«¥å¿Â)<blockquote>The childlike heart-mind is the genuine heart-mind. If one denies the childlike heart-mind, then he denies the genuine heart-mind. The childlike heart-mind is free of all falsehood and entirely genuine; it is the original mind at the very beginning of the first thought. -Li Zhi, âÂÂOn the Childlike Heart-MindâÂÂ</blockquote>Li Zhi wrote a considerable amount on the âÂÂchildlike heart-mindâ (tóng xën; ç«¥å¿Â). Although someone of a childlike heart-mind was once considered to be someone âÂÂnaive, immature, and inexperienced in the ways of the worldâ â and thus âÂÂbound to come to a bad endâ â Li uses the term in a different sense, as evidenced by his reference to the 13th-century play The Western Chamber (Xixiang ji). In this play, a scholar and a maiden develop a somewhat âÂÂforbiddenâ relationship, have a clandestine and passionate love affair, push through âÂÂtraditional barriersâ to their love, and finally marry. In the original telling (from the Tang Period, 7th-10th century CE), these same lovers have a short-lived, passionate romance which takes a sharp downward turn when the scholar decides to leave the maiden, leaving them both with no choice but to marry other people, although not out of âÂÂtrue loveâÂÂ. In referencing this, Li argues for the ideals of the lovers in the Western Chamber, the âÂÂspontaneity, genuineness, abundance in feeling, and passionate desireâÂÂ. These are all aspects of Li's childlike heart-mind.
Li's works on the childlike heart-mind are thought to be âÂÂinnovativeâ yet âÂÂmuddled and inconsistentâÂÂ. Some regard his seemingly incompatible ideas on the heart-mind as a relativist ethical structure âÂÂwhere anything goes." Pauline Lee, however, rejects this interpretation, arguing instead that Li's work is useful in allowing us to understand the cultural milieu in which he lived, and that his âÂÂphilosophical visionâ bears great âÂÂintrinsic value and powerâÂÂ.
This concept of the childlike heart-mind is not unlike concepts of Li's contemporaries on similar subjects. In fact, Li may have even considered his contemporariesâ terms, namely the âÂÂoriginal heart-mindâ (ben xin), the âÂÂgenuine heart-mindâ (zhen xin), âÂÂpure knowingâ (liang zhi), and âÂÂthe infant heart-mindâ (chizi zhi xin).
The term âÂÂben xinâ comes from a passage in the Mengzi that says that if a person acts in accordance with their âÂÂappetitive parts,â even if it is to save their own life and even if the decision is difficult for them, then they have âÂÂlost contactâ with their original heart-mind, something which Mengzi believed is a person's âÂÂgreatest moral resource." Li Zhi makes a conscious decision not to use this term, preferring instead to use tong xin. This may be due in part to the fact that, while Mengzi believed that the heart-mind was something to be cultivated and nurtured, Li saw the heart-mind as something to be âÂÂpreserved,â since, in his view, it is innately perfect from birth. Mengzi also thought that there was a specific âÂÂpath of moral self-cultivationâ and that those who had followed this path correctly would all have the same ethical attitudes, whereas Li held that there were many different ways that one could cultivate the heart-mind, particularly through the reading of certain texts or engagement in certain practices.
âÂÂZhen xinâ is found in the Buddhist text the Platform Sutra, in which it is said to be analogous to the âÂÂdeep concentration of oneness,â something to practice while also maintaining a lack of attachment to things. However, the heart-mind, in this view, runs the risk of becoming enmeshed with the Dao if ever it lingers in anything, if it becomes too attached. Ultimately, the heart-mind in this conception is considered to be functioning properly if it is doing things with natural ease, rather than struggling against the natural way of things (or Dao). Self-cultivation plays a role in this idea of the heart-mind, as well, through deep concentration.
âÂÂLiang zhiâ comes from Wang Yangming's idea of the heart-mind as something that is known through a discovery-based self-cultivation method and as being âÂÂdirectly manifested in a faculty of âÂÂpure knowingâÂÂâ (a term which Mengzi used but which Wang means differently). Wang regarded pure knowing as something innately perfect, just like Li's heart-mind, but which was âÂÂclouded overâ at birth, akin to the sun being obstructed by clouds. This âÂÂcloudingâ could be caused by one's qi if it had somehow become corrupted or soiled, so the aim was to have clear qi by exercising one's pure knowing, something which could be accomplished only through the will.
âÂÂChizi zhi xinâ is a term used by Luo Rufang meaning âÂÂinfant heart mindâÂÂ. This idea held the âÂÂfree expression of one's natural desiresâ in high regard. Luo believed that a person's feelings âÂÂare [their] human nature,â and so the feelings should not be âÂÂrepressedâ in any way. Spontaneous expression (expression without thinking about it) is also a part of the human nature, and as long as âÂÂartificial obstructionsâ (such as âÂÂfalse teachings or excessive meditationâÂÂ) do not interfere, the feelings can thrive.
To Li, losing the genuine mind could result in losing the genuine self, and anyone who failed to be genuine would never recover their genuine heart-mind. The childlike heart-mind is lost when anything from the outside â be those âÂÂaural and visual impressionsâ (even of the âÂÂPrinciples of the WayâÂÂ), âÂÂknowledge and perceptions,â or the favor of a good reputation while masking a bad one â interferes with it. Li also believed that if a person's childlike heart-mind was âÂÂobstructed,â then whatever that person said would not come from the childlike heart-mind, and so would lack âÂÂfoundationâ and would not be truthful. This is because, âÂÂwhen childlike heart-mind is obstructed, the Principles of the Way that come from outside the self become one's heart-mind." This is a problem because, in this case, everything a person encounters and does with their physical senses is of the Principles of the Way, and so is not arising spontaneously from the childlike heart-mind. Words àinspired by the Principles of the Way might sound nice or flow well, Li thought, but they wouldn't have anything to do with the person themselves. Their words would be âÂÂphonyâ and so the person themselves will be âÂÂphony,â and so too for everyone else until the whole world became like this, eventually leaving people unable to determine between âÂÂgoodâ and âÂÂbad."
Li felt that the childlike heart-mind's âÂÂgenuine feelings and desires,â as well as the expression of these, could âÂÂconnect one to an abundant and powerful sourceâ which is too great for âÂÂphonyâ individuals to comprehend. Because of this, such individuals would turn away from opportunities to deepen their spiritual "vision," and face instead a life of comfort and âÂÂblindness."
Li notes that early sages had so securely preserved their heart-minds that, when they read and studied the moral teachings of the Principles of the Way, they were able to protect their heart-minds. However, Li was concerned that many students would allow these same teachings to interfere with their heart-minds. This seems contradictory, given that it was the sages themselves who wrote the books of these teachings that, when read and studied, would cause the students to lose their childlike heart-mind. However, Li's justification for this reasoning is that the sagesâ teachings were specific to each student, not necessarily to be used universally. He likened the teachings to medicine, not only in that each one is tailored specifically to the âÂÂpatient'sâ needs, but also in that what helps one person might worsen the condition of another. For Li, writings such as the Analects and the Six Classics were not to be understood as the âÂÂultimate standard for thousands of generations,â because, he proposed, these texts would not then be direct products of the childlike heart-mind.
Although Li does say that the childlike heart-mind cannot return once it is lost, the aforementioned metaphor of âÂÂhealingâ might suggest that anyone is capable of recovering their childlike heart-mind, though perhaps not in its original condition. This is partially because our phoniness is our own doing and our own decision, and therefore is not entirely out of our control. The metaphor also reminds people that this particular kind of âÂÂhealth,â the recovery of the heart-mind, is relative. Each individual person has certain things that they need to do in order to remain healthy, and these practices are different from person to person.
Li did not believe in rule-based ethics, but in using one's innate and sensitive âÂÂfaculty of knowingâ (or the âÂÂchild-like heart-mindâÂÂ) to read and evaluate each situation as it came and to determine from this which action to take. This does not mean that Li regarded all judgments as being entirely subjective. Consistent with his view that one should follow their heart-mind, their most genuine and spontaneous nature, he was highly critical of any actions that were taken or works which were written that did not come from this nature.
While Li advocates for spontaneity and âÂÂimmediateâ action âÂÂwithout prior reflection or thought,â this does not mean that he favors completely reckless behavior. For Li, such spontaneity was possible and favorable only because the subject had (ideally) worked to preserve their childlike heart-mind. Without an intact heart-mind, such spontaneous action could be mis- or uninformed.
Many of Li Zhi's contemporaries regarded fiction with disdain; true to form, however, Li disagreed and held it in high esteem. He argued that the âÂÂmost exquisite literature in the worldâ comes from the childlike heart-mind because, if something is written from this heart-mind, then nothing is obstructed and no one is âÂÂforcingâ the âÂÂstructureâ or âÂÂstyleâ of their writing. Therefore, if someone composes a written work of fiction that originates from their childlike heart-mind, then this work is indeed âÂÂexquisite.â He took issue with the more popular idea that âÂÂgoodâ prose is that which is written in a âÂÂclassicalâ style (such as from the âÂÂpre-Qin periodâÂÂ). He claimed that all of the âÂÂexquisiteâ literature from past periods could not be seen through the lenses of their own preceding periods, and that they were notable because they were, indeed, originals. To Li, what defined the quality of certain literature was not the time in which it was written, but rather the faculty within its author from which it arose.
In fact, in general Li vehemently discouraged people from regarding âÂÂideas of antiquityâ as solid, âÂÂunchangingâ truth without first critically examining them, as he believed truth to be âÂÂcontext-dependentâ and, therefore, was subject to change with one's environmental variables. He did not believe that people should adhere to âÂÂuniversal truths,â since, in his particularist view, there likely were none.
Li Zhi once wrote to his friend Kong Ruogu regarding his own death, saying, âÂÂUnder no circumstances should you leave my bones for others to take care of." This is a reference to a passage of Kongzi's on what constitutes a âÂÂgood death." According to Kongzi, such a death is âÂÂgenuine in feelingâ (therefore not âÂÂdeceptiveâÂÂ), occurs with friends and loved ones around, and is âÂÂsupported by relations and rituals constructed by culture,â not alone and away from people and social customs. The Xunzi also discusses what constitutes the âÂÂgood death,â describing it as an event which is both âÂÂgenuine in feelingâ and âÂÂsocial in nature." Though Li does not employ the importance of ritual, âÂÂformality,â âÂÂsocial relations,â and âÂÂreverenceâ as part of his own ideas on the âÂÂgood death,â he does incorporate some Confucian aspects of it, namely the qualities of genuineness and âÂÂsincere generosity." This comes as no surprise given that Li believed that a necessary quality of a good life is the âÂÂ[attendance] to our genuine desiresâÂÂ.
However, Li acknowledged the roles of culture and social relationships in people's daily lives, and so also believed that this single quality was not enough to secure a good life. In fact, during his periods of mourning, he followed the traditional customs, and appears to have meant it genuinely. For instance, when he returned home to bury both his grandfather and second eldest son, he expressed to Kong Ruogu his guilt over having delayed the burial of his great-grandparents by fifty years. Although this was due to insufficient funds rather than carelessness, Li insists that this is a âÂÂcrimeâ for which âÂÂnothing can atone,â as it goes against "custom".
Among Confucians, disfigurement in death was considered to be unacceptable and something to be avoided. In fact, among Confucian families it was considered a filial duty to keep the body from disfigurement. However, Li writes as if unfazed by the idea, saying that, should he die âÂÂon the roadâ (already an unfavorable death by Confucian standards), he should like for his body to be cremated or thrown into a river.
Having been arrested in Tongzhou for behaving as a heretic and a traitor (such as by bathing with prostitutes and inviting high-class women to attend his various philosophical discussions), Li ultimately decided to die as he awaited his trial. Still in prison, he slit his throat with a razor borrowed from a prison guard, though did not die until two days later. Whether this act was one of desperation or of courage has long been disputed, but Li's friend Yuan Zhongdao notes that, either way, Li's qi (âÂÂlife energyâÂÂ) must have been considerably robust in order to sustain him for those two days.
Toward the end of his life, Li claimed that his having taken the tonsure did not make him feel that he was living in a way that was âÂÂsuperiorâ compared to others, as this way of life was, in his words âÂÂthe only way." His reasons for having done this had nothing to do with its supposed âÂÂdesirabilityâ or with practicing the Dao, but with his aversion to being controlled. Believing that people are controlled their whole lives â and even after death (such as in burial) â Li chose to break free of this restraint by adopting the tonsure rather than returning home. He writes of this in his essay âÂÂTestimony,â assuring the reader that this decision was the âÂÂgenuine intentionâ of his âÂÂoriginal heart,â or his childlike heart-mind.
Confucian feminism focused mainly on self-cultivation as a means of approaching patriarchal issues, primarily through âÂÂreading classical texts, writing poetry, engaging in discourse and debate,â and âÂÂmeditationâÂÂ. Li Zhi felt that, because women are inherently just as capable as men are of achieving âÂÂintellectual and spiritual development,â men and women should both have âÂÂopportunitiesâ for self-cultivation available to them.
Pauline Lee describes Li as a âÂÂparticularistâ in that he believes that anyone can âÂÂwork to achieveâ âÂÂmoral knowledge,â but also that all moral judgments are relative to their âÂÂspecific conditions and time." However, she notes that this does not mean that Li is content to leave women's problems of inequality as they are, as he argues against standard Confucian practices such as the âÂÂcloistering of womenâ in the home, or customs that denounced the remarrying of widows, or the overall subservience of women.
Chinese Confucian cosmology, describing not just the order of the universe but also the order of relationships between people (the latter mirroring and even influencing the former, and vice versa), was one particular area of Confucianism which Li attacked. This cosmology involved the âÂÂelementsâ yin and yang which are often associated with other opposing energies, including masculine and feminine. Lee argued that yin-yang relationships, at least by the third century, were âÂÂhierarchical,â with yin as yangâÂÂs secondary subordinate. While Li maintains the traditional Confucian idea of the cosmos as emanating from one original source, he sees this creation as âÂÂcooperative,â with yin and yang working together to produce the universe rather than one force being the initiator for the secondary force to follow. He also held the Confucian idea of the family and society as reflections of the cosmos (and vice versa), but again his view was more binary than monistic, believing there to be no hierarchy in creation and, therefore, no hierarchy in male-female or husband-wife relationships. Li also challenges the hierarchical notion of the five essential Confucian relationships (father-son, ruler-subject, husband-wife, old-young, and friend-friend), all of which, aside from friendship, were based on power imbalance. He does this by arguing in his letter âÂÂDiscussion on Husband and Wifeâ that societal order is dependent upon the husband-wife relationship as its âÂÂultimate source,â and so this particular relationship should be seen as one between friends who have willingly decided to work together.
Not surprisingly, Li had a more egalitarian view of gender relationships than did traditional Confucian thinkers, regarding such relationships as âÂÂcomplementary." He saw men and women as intellectual and spiritual equals, with equal capabilities for self-cultivation in these areas. It is worth it to note that Li did not discuss gender equality in the area of moral development, though this may be due to the fact that, for much of Chinese history, women appeared to have superior moral capacities by nature.
Although the popular belief at the time was that women could not understand the Way due to their supposedly inherent âÂÂshortsightedness,â Li Zhi disagreed. To Li, someone who is shortsighted is concerned only with what happens within their lifetime, such as the events of their offspring and what happens to their physical body. A farsighted person, however, considers what is beyond that, âÂÂtranscendingâ not only the body but also the âÂÂsuperficial appearances of life and deathâ while also turning their attention away from mindless chatter and prejudices and toward the teachings of the sages, which encouraged a more unbiased perspective.
Li argued that, although men and women are different, their vision is not; that is, there is no vision that is either âÂÂmaleâ or âÂÂfemale,â as âÂÂvision" in the way that Li meant it, is not gendered. This means that shortsightedness is not inherently female, nor is farsightedness inherently male. Li illustrates this point by describing a hypothetical situation in which there is someone with âÂÂa woman's body and a man's vision,â someone who is both female and not only values engaging in conversation of the âÂÂtranscendent,â but also understands that attachment to the ever-changing things of the material world is not worthwhile. He makes reference to notable âÂÂfarsightedâ women of the past, such as Yi Jiang (King Wu's ninth minister) and Wen Mu (also known as Tai Si, King Wen's consort and a âÂÂsageâ whose âÂÂvirtuous behaviorâ set such a high standard that it âÂÂrectifiedâ the customs of the southern regions).
Li Zhi asserts that it is only a shortsighted man who would anger at the idea of women being farsighted, and that a truly farsighted man would neither engage with nor desire the approval of shortsighted men (for, if he did, it would only make him one such shortsighted, âÂÂsmall-mindedâ man himself).
Li was a notable author of the xiaopin, a form of short essay. His philosophical works included A Book to Burn and A Book to Keep (Hidden).
A Book to Burn is composed of Li's responses to questions from friends (âÂÂsoul friends,â he calls them) in which he offers criticism of what he considers to be mistakes of the contemporary scholars of the day. Li wanted to print this book because of the possibility that it would make its way to those who might be interested in his ideas. Though he feared being killed by dissenters for what he'd written, he was nevertheless optimistic that someone might read his work and understand what he meant.
Li also writes of the relationship between married couples in this text, describing âÂÂloving-kindnessâ as being particularly âÂÂprofound." He discusses how the intimacy that is cultivated within such a relationship extends beyond sex and even friendship by virtue of both parties having struggled and âÂÂsacrificedâ together. He waxes poetic about his late wife, praising her âÂÂfeminineâ virtues, which, in Confucianism, referred to âÂÂwomanly virtue, womanly speech, womanly appearance, and womanly work."
A Book to Keep (Hidden) gives accounts of thousands of years of good and bad deeds from antiquity to the current age. By Li's own advice, it cannot be read by those who possess âÂÂeyes of fleshâ (a Buddhist term indicating the âÂÂmost mundane form of visionâ characteristic of someone unenlightened).