The Enigmatic Figure of Yang Zhu

Yang Zhu remains one of the most intriguing yet controversial philosophers of ancient China. Though his ideas survive primarily through the disputed Yang Zhu chapter in the Liezi—a text often regarded with skepticism—his influence was significant enough to be mentioned alongside Confucianism and Mohism by Mencius. Living between 440 and 630 BCE, Yang Zhu emerged during the Warring States period, a time of relentless conflict and social upheaval. His philosophy, characterized by extreme individualism and skepticism toward conventional morality, reflects the disillusionment of an era where life was precarious and traditional values seemed inadequate.

The Core of Yang Zhu’s Thought: Radical Egoism

At the heart of Yang Zhu’s philosophy lies his doctrine of wei wo (为我), or “egoism.” Unlike later misinterpretations that equated egoism with selfish exploitation, Yang Zhu’s stance was more nuanced. He argued:

“To pluck a single hair to benefit the world, I would not do it. To take the entire world’s wealth for myself, I would not accept it.”

This paradoxical statement underscores his belief in non-interference: if no one sacrifices themselves for others, nor exploits others for personal gain, society would achieve equilibrium. His philosophy was grounded in biological realism—the instinct for self-preservation, which he saw as natural and morally neutral.

Nominalism and the Rejection of Abstract Morality

Yang Zhu’s skepticism extended to language and social constructs. His nominalist view—”Reality has no name; names have no reality”—challenged Confucian and Mohist reliance on rituals and moral labels. For Yang Zhu, concepts like “duty” or “honor” were artificial impositions, distractions from the immediacy of lived experience. This stance anticipated later philosophical debates about the nature of language and reality, resembling Western nominalism in its denial of universal abstractions.

Pessimism and the Fleetingness of Life

Yang Zhu’s egoism was inseparable from a profound pessimism. He observed that human life—already brief—was further diminished by pain, fear, and societal constraints:

“In a lifespan of a hundred years, barely a decade is spent in true joy. Why then chain ourselves to artificial virtues?”

His bleak outlook mirrored the chaos of his times, contrasting sharply with Mohist activism or Confucian idealism. For Yang Zhu, the inevitability of death rendered worldly distinctions meaningless:

“Alive, you may be a sage or a tyrant; dead, you are but rotting bones.”

The Art of Nurturing Life

Rejecting asceticism and excess alike, Yang Zhu advocated yang sheng (养生), or “nurturing life.” His guidelines were simple:

– Avoid poverty, which harms the body, and wealth, which burdens it.
– Indulge sensory pleasures without guilt (“Let the ears hear what they desire, the eyes see what they delight in”).
– Accept death as natural—whether buried, burned, or left exposed.

Unlike Daoist seekers of immortality, Yang Zhu dismissed prolonged life as tedious, advocating instead for a measured enjoyment of existence.

Legacy: The Misunderstood Individualist

Yang Zhu’s ideas were eclipsed by Confucianism’s dominance, but his critiques left subtle marks. His nominalism influenced later dialecticians like Gongsun Long, while his egoism resurfaced in libertarian strands of Daoism. Modern readers might see in him a precursor to existentialist themes—the individual confronting an indifferent universe.

Yet his most enduring lesson is perhaps his challenge to moral absolutism: that ethics must account for human nature’s base instincts, not just its loftiest aspirations. In an age of ideological polarization, Yang Zhu’s call for self-preservation without exploitation remains provocatively relevant.

Conclusion: A Voice for the Disillusioned

Yang Zhu’s philosophy, born from turmoil, speaks to anyone skeptical of grand narratives. His blend of egoism, naturalism, and pessimism offers no easy answers but demands honesty about life’s fragility. Whether dismissed as cynical or celebrated as liberating, his thought endures as a testament to the diversity of ancient Chinese intellectual life—a reminder that even in collective-minded societies, the individual’s voice can never be fully silenced.