The Elusive Life of Zhuang Zhou

Our knowledge of Zhuangzi’s life remains fragmentary at best. According to Sima Qian’s Records of the Grand Historian, Zhuang Zhou hailed from Meng and served as a minor official in the lacquer garden of Meng. The text places him as a contemporary of King Hui of Liang and King Xuan of Qi. We know of his intellectual exchanges with the logician Hui Shi and that he outlived his philosophical counterpart. Based on these clues, scholars estimate Zhuangzi’s death around 275 BCE, placing him chronologically between Hui Shi and Gongsun Long in the Warring States period’s constellation of thinkers.

The text attributed to Zhuangzi presents its own mysteries. The Han Dynasty catalog Records of Art and Literature lists fifty-two chapters, yet only thirty-three survive today. These remaining texts divide into three categories: seven Inner Chapters, fifteen Outer Chapters, and eleven Miscellaneous Chapters. Most scholars consider the Inner Chapters as likely authentic, though even these contain probable later interpolations. The Outer and Miscellaneous Chapters present greater authenticity challenges. For instance, the chapter “Breaking Open Boxes” mentions twelve generations of the Tian clan ruling Qi, yet historical records show only twelve (or ten by some accounts) generations from Tian Chengzi to Qi’s fall – proving this passage couldn’t have been written by Zhuangzi himself. Chapters like “Yielding the Throne,” “Discourse on Swords,” “Robber Zhi,” and “The Old Fisherman” display such inferior literary quality that most consider them obvious forgeries. Of these twenty-six suspect chapters, perhaps only three – “Autumn Floods,” “Gengsang Chu,” and “Fables” – contain substantial reliable material. The profound “All Under Heaven” chapter serves as a masterful epilogue, though certainly not from Zhuangzi’s own hand.

The Core of Zhuangzi’s Philosophy

The “All Under Heaven” chapter provides perhaps the most concise and penetrating summary of Zhuangzi’s thought:

“Silent and formless, changing and inconstant; is death then life? Are heaven and earth then joined? Where do the spirits go? Dimly, where do they proceed? Vaguely, where do they arrive? All things are encompassed, yet none provides a home – this describes the ancient art of the Way. Zhuang Zhou heard of this tradition and delighted in it. With absurd and boundless sayings, with wild and extravagant words, with phrases without limitation or constraint, he gave free rein to his fancy without partiality. Seeing the world as sunk in turbidity that could not be addressed with solemn words, he used ‘goblet words’ that spill over, ‘repeated words’ that appear true, and ‘imputed words’ that extend meanings. Alone he wandered with the essential spirit of heaven and earth, yet not arrogant toward the myriad things. He did not scold over rights and wrongs, but dwelled with the age… Above he wandered with the creator of things, below he made friends with those who transcend life and death, who have no beginning or end. As for the root, it was broad and expansive, profound and unrestrained. As for the essence, it might be called harmonious and attaining the heights.”

This passage captures the essence of Zhuangzi’s philosophy as fundamentally a doctrine of transcendence. While engaging with the world, he “wandered alone with the essential spirit of heaven and earth… above with the creator of things, below with those who transcend life and death.” Chinese transcendental philosophy reached its complete formulation with Zhuangzi. To understand his system, we must first examine its foundations.

Zhuangzi’s Theory of Biological Evolution

The problem of universal transformation stands at the heart of Zhuangzi’s philosophical inquiry. The opening passage from “All Under Heaven” quoted above shows his philosophy begins with the question of perpetual flux in all things. Earlier thinkers had grappled with this problem – Laozi’s “being arises from non-being” and Confucius’s study of change in the Yi Jing represent two approaches. However, neither developed a comprehensive theory of evolution, particularly regarding biological transformation.

After Mozi, many philosophers turned their attention specifically to biological evolution. The “All Under Heaven” chapter records debates between Hui Shi and Gongsun Long featuring propositions like “eggs have feathers,” “dogs can be sheep,” and “tadpoles have tails,” all relating to theories of biological transformation. The Mohist Canons define six types of change, including transformation (hua), exemplified by “a tortoise transforming into a quail.” These examples demonstrate active investigation into biological metamorphosis during this period.

The most detailed evolutionary theories appear in the Liezi and Zhuangzi texts. The Liezi presents two conflicting evolutionary theories. The first, borrowed from the Han Dynasty text Zhouyi Qianzuodu, describes cosmic emergence from formless origins through stages of primal energy, form, and substance. The second theory posits an eternal, unchanging “non-being” that generates all transformations while remaining unaffected itself. This “non-being” differs fundamentally from Laozi’s void-like non-being – it represents an original substance without form, sound, color, or taste that spontaneously generates all things.

This theory explicitly rejects any governing heaven, as illustrated by a story where a boy challenges the notion that heaven benevolently provides fish and fowl for human use, arguing instead for natural competition where stronger species prey on weaker – anticipating Darwinian concepts of natural selection.

Zhuangzi’s Evolutionary Framework

The Zhuangzi develops these ideas further. The “Autumn Floods” chapter states:

“The life of things is like a galloping horse – nothing remains unchanged, nothing stays unmoved. What should be done? What should not be done? All things transform of themselves.”

This concept of “self-transformation” (zihua) forms the cornerstone of Zhuangzi’s evolutionary theory. The “Fables” chapter elaborates:

“All things come from the same seed but assume different forms in succession. Their beginning and end are like a circle whose segments cannot be distinguished. This is called the balance of nature.”

These eleven characters – “all things come from the same seed but assume different forms in succession” – essentially propose a theory of species origin. Zhuangzi suggests all beings originated from a common ancestor, gradually differentiating into various forms through successive generations.

The “Perfect Happiness” chapter presents a cryptic evolutionary sequence beginning with microscopic organisms in water, progressing through aquatic plants, land plants, insects, butterflies, birds, and finally humans before returning to the microscopic origin. While the specific species names remain obscure, the theory’s outline clearly describes a graduated evolutionary process from simple to complex life forms.

This biological evolution occurs spontaneously without any governing force, as illustrated by the famous shadow parable in the “Discussion on Making All Things Equal” chapter. When asked what causes its movements, the shadow replies that it depends on something else which in turn depends on something else, leading to an infinite regression that undermines any notion of a first cause or creator – an argument anticipating later Western philosophical critiques of the cosmological proof for God’s existence.

The Mechanism of Evolution

Zhuangzi’s evolution occurs spontaneously without any governing principle. But what drives this transformation? The “Discussion on Making All Things Equal” chapter admits uncertainty: “How can I know what I call knowing is not ignorance? How can I know what I call ignorance is not knowing?” This radical skepticism about human capacity to understand causality represents a significant limitation in Zhuangzi’s evolutionary theory.

Modern biology explains evolutionary adaptation to environment, where advantageous traits survive while disadvantageous ones perish. Zhuangzi hints at this with examples comparing human, fish, and ape adaptations to their environments, or different species’ food preferences. However, he never explicitly connects adaptation to evolutionary change, focusing instead on passive rather than active adaptation – as seen in statements like “the swan needs no daily bath to stay white; the crow needs no daily inking to stay black” (“The Movement of Heaven”) and “all things transform of themselves” (“Autumn Floods”).

This passive, naturalistic evolution contrasts with modern understanding that includes organisms actively adapting to environmental challenges. Zhuangzi’s purely naturalistic approach represents an incomplete evolutionary theory, though remarkably advanced for its time.

Zhuangzi’s Epistemology and Ethics

Zhuangzi’s philosophy of language and ethics both stem from this evolutionary worldview. His association with the logician Hui Shi exposed him to intense philosophical debates, particularly between Confucians and Mohists. Observing these conflicts, Zhuangzi concluded that all perspectives contain partial truths and falsehoods, writing:

“The Way is obscured by petty achievements; speech is obscured by grand flourishes. Hence the ‘this’ and ‘that’ of Confucians and Mohists, each affirming what the other denies and denying what the other affirms.”

This recognition of perspectival limitations led Zhuangzi to radical skepticism about the possibility of certain knowledge. Unlike the Mohists who believed debate could establish truth (“when debate prevails, the victor is right”), Zhuangzi questioned whether any position could claim absolute validity. His famous dialogue demonstrates that no perspective – not even a neutral third party – can objectively arbitrate truth claims between opposing views.

Yet Zhuangzi’s skepticism contains constructive elements. Recognizing all views as partial, he sought a higher synthesis: “The sage embraces all things, while ordinary people argue over alternatives to show them to each other.” His concept of “illumination” (yi ming) involves seeing how opposites mutually define and generate each other – “that” emerges from “this,” and vice versa, in endless interplay.

This insight about the relativity and evolution of truth resembles Hegelian dialectics, where thesis and antithesis yield higher synthesis. Zhuangzi writes:

“From the viewpoint of difference, even one’s own liver and gall seem as far apart as the states of Chu and Yue. From the viewpoint of sameness, all things are one.”

This radical relativism – that “all things are one” from the highest perspective – leads to Zhuangzi’s ethical quietism. If all distinctions ultimately dissolve, why strive for reform or progress? His philosophy thus paradoxically combines evolutionary awareness with conservative acceptance, valuing harmony with nature’s spontaneous processes above human intervention.

The Legacy of Zhuangzi’s Thought

Zhuangzi’s philosophy ultimately constitutes a profound transcendentalism. While engaging with worldly affairs, he sought to rise above conventional distinctions of right/wrong, gain/loss, life/death through mystical union with the Dao. Stories in “The Human World” and “The Sign of Virtue Complete” describe severely deformed individuals who transcend physical limitations through this spiritual perspective.

The famous conclusion of “Discussion on Making All Things Equal” summarizes this worldview:

“Under heaven nothing is greater than the tip of a downy hair, while Mount Tai is small. No one lives longer than a child who dies in infancy, while Pengzu died young. Heaven and earth were born together with me, and all things and I are one.”

This radical relativism, while intellectually dazzling, contains dangerous implications. By dissolving all distinctions in cosmic unity, Zhuangzi’s philosophy could discourage social reform and intellectual progress. His recognition of evolution paradoxically became an argument for passivity, as he viewed change as natural process beyond human influence. Thus while theoretically progressive, Zhuangzi’s system functioned practically as a conservative force in Chinese thought – celebrating nature’s transformations while discouraging human efforts to direct them.

Yet Zhuangzi’s enduring value lies in his poetic articulation of life’s profound mysteries, his challenge to anthropocentrism, and his invitation to harmonize with nature’s spontaneous order. His philosophy remains both a towering achievement of ancient thought and a cautionary tale about the practical consequences of radical metaphysical unity.