Name and Mind: A Study of Xunzi's "Rectification of Names"
A complete study of the *Zhengming* (Rectification of Names) chapter of the *Xunzi*. It takes up the Master's chain—"if names are not rectified, speech does not flow"—and opens onto the distinction between names having no fixed appropriateness and names having a fixed goodness; it traces in detail the boundary of convention-becoming-custom, the Heavenly Faculties' sorting of categories and the mind's verifying cognition, the three delusions and the inevitability of disputation, the three grades of speech, how order and disorder lie in what the mind approves, the Way as the true balance across past and present, and ends with "the self enslaved to things" and "valuing the self and putting things to service." It takes Confucian and Daoist principle as its foundation, drawing on the *Analects*, *Mencius*, *Doctrine of the Mean*, *Laozi*, *Zhuangzi*, *Zuo Tradition*, and the *Book of Songs*.
10 The Self Enslaved to Things, and Valuing the Self and Putting Things to Service
10.1 What Is Hidden and Difficult to See
10.1.1 A Chain of Links, Each Locked to the Next
The eighteenth section opens by saying: "Try to look deeply into what is hidden and difficult to see: there is no one whose intent slights reason and yet does not value external things; there is no one who values external things externally and yet does not carry inner anxiety; there is no one whose conduct departs from reason and yet does not face external danger; there is no one who faces external danger and yet does not carry inner fear."
Try to look deeply into these hidden and hard-to-perceive principles: there is no one whose mind slights reason and yet does not come to value external things; there is no one who values external things and yet remains free of inner anxiety; there is no one whose conduct departs from reason and yet remains free of external danger; there is no one who faces external danger and yet remains free of inner fear.
This is a chain of links, each locked to the next: slighting reason leads to valuing things; valuing things leads to inner anxiety; departing from reason leads to external danger; external danger leads to inner fear. Master Xun calls this "what is hidden and difficult to see." Why hidden$19 Because the relationship between each link is not immediately apparent. A person who slights reason does not instantly come to value things; valuing things does not instantly bring anxiety. But given enough time, this chain will surely manifest itself, link by link.
The starting point of this chain is "slighting reason"; the endpoint is "inner fear." From slighting reason to fear runs a path through valuing things, inner anxiety, departing from reason, and external danger. Master Xun traces out this chain in order to make people see: the root of inner fear lies in slighting reason. People believe fear is caused by external things, but in fact it is caused by their own slighting of reason.
10.1.2 A Mouth Full of Fine Meat, Yet Not Knowing Its Taste
"When the mind is anxious and fearful, then the mouth, though full of fine meat, does not know its taste; the ear, though listening to bells and drums, does not know their sound; the eye, though gazing on embroidered patterns, does not know their form; and the body, though wrapped in light warm clothing and resting on a smooth mat, does not know its comfort. So, facing the beauty of the myriad things, one cannot be satisfied by it."
When the mind is anxious and fearful, the mouth, full of rich, fine meat, does not know its taste; the ear, listening to bells and drums, does not know their sound; the eye, gazing on beautifully embroidered patterns, does not know their form; the body, dressed in light warm clothing and resting on a smooth, even mat, does not know its own comfort. So, facing the beauty of the myriad things, one cannot find satisfaction in it.
These lines bear a striking resemblance to a passage in the "Great Learning" (Daxue) chapter of the Book of Rites: "When the mind is not present, one looks and does not see, listens and does not hear, eats and does not know the taste." When the mind is absent, the eye looks yet does not see, the ear listens yet does not hear, the mouth eats yet does not know the taste. The "Great Learning" speaks of "the mind not being present"; Master Xun speaks of "the mind being anxious and fearful." Whether the mind is absent or anxious and fearful, the senses lose their function. Fine meat, bells and drums, embroidered patterns, light warmth—the beauty of the myriad things is all there, but if the mind is absent or anxious and fearful, this beauty has nothing to do with the person at all.
The Most High also discusses the five flavors and the five colors, but in the opposite direction. Chapter 12 of the Daodejing says: "The five colors blind a person's eyes; the five tones deafen a person's ears; the five flavors dull a person's palate." The five colors blind the eyes, the five tones deafen the ears, the five flavors damage the palate. The Most High is saying that things injure people: too many things, too beautiful, ruin a person's senses. Master Xun is saying that when the mind is lost, things go to waste: when the mind is anxious and fearful, no matter how beautiful the thing, it cannot get through to the person. The Most High places the responsibility on things; Master Xun places the responsibility on the mind.
This difference is no small matter. Because the Most High held that things injure people, he wanted people to keep their distance from things—"acting for the belly, not for the eye." Because Master Xun held that when the mind is lost, things go to waste, he wanted people to rectify their minds; once the mind is rectified, things can naturally be enjoyed. Both see that people are trapped by things, but the Daoist way out is to distance oneself from things, while Master Xun's way out is to rectify the mind.
10.1.3 Nourishing Life, or Selling One's Years$20
"Suppose one gets a moment's leisure and is satisfied for a while—then one cannot bear to part with it. So, facing the beauty of the myriad things, one falls into extreme anxiety; possessing the beauty of the myriad things all at once, one suffers extreme harm. A person like this, in seeking after things—is he nourishing his life, or selling his years$21"
Suppose one gets a moment's leisure and finds satisfaction in it for a while—then one can never again bear to be parted from it. So, facing the beauty of the myriad things, such a person falls into extreme anxiety; possessing the beauty of the myriad things all at once, he suffers extreme harm. A person like this, in his pursuit of external things—is he nourishing his life, or selling his years$22
"Nourishing his life, or selling his years$23" This question is extremely sharp. To sell is to trade away. A person pursues external things originally in order to nourish life, to live well. But when intent slights reason and values things, valuing things brings inner anxiety, and inner anxiety means not knowing taste, not knowing sound, not knowing form, not knowing comfort. The result of pursuing external things is the complete loss of the flavor of life itself. This is not nourishing life—it is selling one's years.
The phrase "nourishing life" (yang sheng) calls to mind Master Zhuang's "The Primacy of Nourishing Life" (Yangsheng Zhu). In that chapter Master Zhuang says: "Do good, but stay clear of fame; do wrong, but stay clear of punishment; follow the central meridian as your constant guide—this can preserve the body, keep life whole, nourish one's parents, and complete one's allotted years." Master Zhuang's way of nourishing life is to follow the middle course, seeking neither fame nor closeness to punishment. Master Xun's way of nourishing life is that the mind must not be anxious and fearful, for only then can things nourish a person. Both men oppose nourishing life through external things alone. Master Zhuang's "Mastering Life" (Da Sheng) chapter says, "nourishing the physical form is not enough to preserve life"—nourishing the body is not sufficient to preserve life, because life is more than the body. Master Xun says, "wishing to nourish one's nature, one endangers one's body instead"—wanting to nourish one's nature but instead endangering one's body, because the method is wrong.
"So there are those who, wishing to nourish their desires, indulge their emotions instead; wishing to nourish their nature, endanger their bodies instead; wishing to nourish their pleasure, injure their minds instead; wishing to nourish their reputation, throw their conduct into disorder instead. A person like this, even if enfeoffed as a lord or styled a ruler, is no different from a bandit; even riding in a carriage and wearing a cap of office, is no different from one who has no feet at all. This is called making oneself a slave to external things." So there are people who, wishing to nourish their desires, end up indulging their emotions instead; wishing to nourish their nature, end up endangering their bodies instead; wishing to nourish their pleasure, end up injuring their minds instead; wishing to nourish their reputation, end up throwing their conduct into disorder instead. A person like this, even if enfeoffed as a lord or styled a ruler, is no different from a common bandit; even riding in a fine carriage and wearing an official's cap, is no different from a person who has no feet at all. This is called making the self a slave to external things.
"The self enslaved to things"—these five characters sum up the whole passage. A person ought properly to put things into service; instead, he is enslaved by things. A person ought properly to be master; instead, he becomes servant. This is the final outcome of an intent that slights reason.
10.2 Valuing the Self and Putting Things to Service
10.2.1 When the Mind Is Calm and Content, Colors Below the Ordinary Can Still Nourish the Eye
The nineteenth section stands in exact contrast to the eighteenth: "When the mind is calm and content, colors that fall short of the ordinary can still nourish the eye, sounds that fall short of the ordinary can still nourish the ear, coarse grain and vegetable soup can still nourish the mouth, coarse cloth garments and coarse-strapped sandals can still nourish the body. A cramped room, a reed screen, a straw mat, a worn stool and mat can still nourish the physical form. So even without the beauty of the myriad things, one can still nourish one's pleasure; even without a position of power and rank, one can still nourish one's reputation."
When the mind is calm and content, colors below the ordinary can still nourish the eye, sounds below the ordinary can still nourish the ear, coarse grain and vegetable soup can nourish the mouth, coarse cloth garments and coarse straw sandals can nourish the body. A small room, a reed screen, a straw mat, a worn-out stool—these can nourish the physical form. So even without the beauty of the myriad things, one can still nourish one's pleasure; even without a position of power and rank, one can still nourish one's reputation.
The eighteenth section says that when the mind is anxious and fearful, even fine meat has no taste; the nineteenth section says that when the mind is calm and content, even coarse grain can nourish the mouth. Taken together, the two sections show that the beauty or ugliness, the goodness or badness, of a thing has an effect on a person entirely dependent on the mind. When the mind is anxious and fearful, the beauty of the myriad things cannot nourish a person; when the mind is calm and content, even coarse things and a humble dwelling can nourish a person. The thing is passive; the mind is active. This is "valuing the self and putting things to service": holding oneself as what matters, and letting things serve oneself.
10.2.2 Eating Coarse Food and Drinking Water
The spirit of this passage is entirely of a piece with the state attained by the Master and Master Yan (Yan Hui). The "Shu Er" chapter of the Analects records the Master saying: "Eating coarse food and drinking water, with a bent arm for a pillow—there is joy in this too. Wealth and rank obtained through unrighteous means are to me like floating clouds." Eating coarse food, drinking water, using a bent arm as a pillow—joy is present even so. Wealth and rank gained unrighteously are, to me, like drifting clouds. The "Yong Ye" chapter of the Analects records the Master praising Master Yan: "How worthy was Hui! A single basket of rice, a single gourd of drink, living in a mean alley—others could not have endured the distress of it, yet Hui did not let it change his joy. How worthy was Hui!"
"Eating coarse food and drinking water" is exactly "coarse grain and vegetable soup can still nourish the mouth"; "a bent arm for a pillow" is exactly "a worn stool and mat can still nourish the physical form"; "there is joy in this too" is exactly "even without the beauty of the myriad things, one can still nourish one's pleasure." The joy of the Master and Master Yan came not from favorable material conditions, but from their minds being calm and content. Master Xun spells out the principle behind this state: when the mind is calm and content, even meager things can nourish a person.
"If, being such, one is further entrusted with the realm, then one accomplishes much for the realm, and little for one's own private pleasure." A person whose mind is calm and content, if entrusted with the realm, will accomplish much for the realm and pursue little for his own private pleasure. This means: a person who values the self and puts things to service not only lives well himself, but can also govern the realm. Because he is not enslaved by things, he will never harm the realm for the sake of things.
10.2.3 Treating Things as Things, Without Being Treated as a Thing by Things
Master Zhuang's "Mountain Tree" (Shanmu) chapter says: "Treat things as things, and do not let yourself be treated as a thing by things—how then could anything ever burden you!" To treat things as things, without being treated as a thing by things—what then could ever burden the self$24 This carries exactly the same meaning as Master Xun's "valuing the self and putting things to service." To put things to service is to "treat things as things"; to make the self a slave to things is to "be treated as a thing by things."
Master Zhuang's "Mending the Inborn Nature" (Shanxing) chapter also says: "Those who lose themselves in things and lose their nature in worldly custom are called people who have things upside down." Those who lose themselves amid things, who lose their nature amid worldly custom, are called people with things turned upside down. This term "upside down" (daozhi) carries exactly the same meaning as Master Xun's "the self enslaved to things": properly, the person is master and the thing is servant; turned upside down, the thing becomes master and the person becomes servant.
Confucianism and Daoism are, once again, in complete agreement on this point. A person ought not be enslaved by things; a person ought to put things into service. The only difference lies in how this is achieved. The Daoist method is "selflessness," "forgetting things"—dissolving the distinction between self and thing at its root. Master Xun's method is "the mind calm and content"—settling the mind, so that things naturally come to serve the self rather than enslaving it. Daoism proceeds by dissolution; Master Xun proceeds by settling. The two paths lead to the same place.
The "Great Treatise" of the Book of Changes says: "Delighting in Heaven and knowing one's fate, one is therefore free of anxiety." Delighting in Heaven and knowing one's fate frees one from anxiety. Master Xun's "mind calm and content" is precisely this state of being free of anxiety. And the ground of being free of anxiety lies in knowing reason. The chain of the eighteenth section begins with "intent slighting reason"; the calm, content mind of the nineteenth section is grounded in the mind valuing reason. Valuing reason means not valuing things; not valuing things means no inner anxiety; no inner anxiety means the mind is calm and content; a calm, content mind means things can nourish the self. Run this chain in reverse, and one travels from "the self enslaved to things" to "valuing the self and putting things to service."
10.3 Verification
10.3.1 The Encounters Allotted to One Are Called Fate
Return to the last of the ten names in the second section: "the encounters allotted to one are called fate." Fate (ming) is "allotted encounter"—something one meets at a certain juncture.
This definition pulls fate out of the realm of mystery. Fate is not something fixed by Heaven, unchangeable—fate is an encounter. At this moment you meet with this thing—that is fate. It is contingent, it is external, it is not something you can determine.
The Master says, "One who does not know fate has no means of becoming a noble person" (Analects, "Yao Yue"). Master Meng says, "Nothing happens that is not fate; accept its rightful course with equanimity" ("Jin Xin I"). Master Zhuang says, "To know that something cannot be helped, and to accept it with the equanimity due to fate, is the highest form of virtue" ("In the Human World," Renjianshi). All three take the same attitude toward fate: acknowledge it, accept it, and do not let it change who you are. By defining fate as "allotted encounter," Master Xun turns this attitude into a name: fate is what you encounter—it is not something you can alter; what you can alter is your mind, your seeking.
This connects with the "Discourse on Heaven" chapter's "master the Mandate of Heaven and put it to use." The Mandate of Heaven cannot be changed, but it can be used. An encounter cannot be changed, but it can be met with the right disposition. The nineteenth section says, "even without a position of power and rank, one can still nourish one's reputation"—without power or rank, one can still nourish one's reputation. Power and rank are allotted encounter, are fate; nourishing one's reputation is a matter of the mind, one's own affair. Fate belongs to fate; mind belongs to mind. The mind is not thrown into disorder by fate—this is how "valuing the self and putting things to service" manifests itself with respect to fate.
10.3.2 Words Without Verification, Conduct That Has Not Been Seen, Plans That Have Not Been Heard Of
The final line of the whole essay: "Words without verification, conduct that has not been seen, and plans that have not been heard of—the noble person is cautious about these."
Words that cannot be checked, conduct no one has witnessed, plans no one has heard reported—the noble person is cautious about all three. This sentence closes the whole essay. The preceding nineteen sections have discussed names, disputation, mind, desire, weighing, and things, and in the end all of it comes to rest on a single character: ji (verification).
Ji is checking and examining. The ninth section says, "this is how one verifies actuality and fixes its number"—the essential pivot of instituting names lies in the ability to verify actuality. The seventeenth section says, "grasping the arithmetic"—the principle of the Way lies in being able to calculate it clearly. The eighteenth section says, "try to look deeply into what is hidden and difficult to see"—looking deeply is verifying those hidden chains. Throughout the whole essay, verification is everywhere at work. Names must verify actuality; explanations must verify reason; desires must verify the mind; things must verify the self. What cannot be verified, the noble person is cautious about.
This line also bears a relationship to the second section's "the encounters allotted to one are called fate." Fate is encounter, and encounter can be verified, because it has already happened. But words without verification, conduct that has not been seen, and plans that have not been heard of are things that have not happened, that cannot be checked. Toward an encounter that has already happened, the noble person accepts its rightful course with equanimity; toward words, conduct, and plans that cannot be checked, he is cautious and does not believe them. Taken together, these two attitudes form a person's basic stance toward the world: toward what is real, acceptance; toward what is unfounded, disbelief.
10.3.3 Name and Mind
Having read through all twenty sections, one can now look back at the essay as a whole. It opens with "the completed names of the later kings" and closes with "words without verification, the noble person is cautious about." The opening discusses where names come from; the ending discusses how words cannot be trusted without verification. In between, it discusses how names are fixed, how they are used, how they are verified; the grades of disputation; the distinction between desire and mind; the Way as the true weighing; and the self enslaved to things versus valuing the self and putting things to service.
On the surface, this content belongs to several different domains—language, politics, psychology, ethics—but in fact there is only one thread running through it: names must be rectified, and the mind must be rectified. Names are fixed by the mind; the mind is rectified by the Way. Once names are rectified, actualities are distinguished; once the mind is rectified, desires cannot fall into disorder. Name and mind are the two poles of this essay. Name is outer; mind is inner. Name is the manifestation of the Way in speech; mind is the artisan-steward of the Way within the person.
In this essay, Master Xun brings together the Confucian tradition of "rectifying names" with the Daoist insight of "valuing the self" and "putting things to service." He begins from the Master's "It would certainly be to rectify names!", passes through the place where Master Zhuang says "a thing comes to be so by being called so," passes through the place where the Most High speaks of "knowing when to stop," and finally returns to the place where the Master speaks of "eating coarse food and drinking water, with joy present even so." He does not stop at any single one of these masters, yet neither does he depart from any of them. This is the Rectification of Names. Its title is name; its destination is mind; its method is verification. Once the three characters—name, mind, verification—are understood, all twenty sections fall into place.