Disclaimer: This post was originally written in Chinese and translated into English by GPT-5.2.
Abstract: Confucius’s famous autobiographical account of his life (“At fifteen I set my heart on learning…”) succinctly and from a commanding height summarizes the characteristics of the stages of his personal development, providing a highly significant reference for understanding Confucius’s character and teachings. Specifically, the stages of Confucius’s life development exhibit the following features: setting one’s will on learning at fifteen is the initial stage of Confucius’s life development, and all subsequent stages spring from it; Confucius’s life development embodies a progressive, step-by-step advancement, manifested in the continual enrichment of life experience and the increasingly clear articulation of his aspirations. After fifty, Confucius recognized his desire and positioning for serving in office and engaging in politics for the remainder of his life, and through the formulation “knowing Heaven’s mandate” realized a process of “knowing oneself”; “at sixty the ear is obedient” is progress on this basis, marking the completion of Confucius’s process of “knowing others.” Able both to “know himself” and to “know others,” by seventy Confucius had reached the highest spiritual realm of his life development. The stages of Confucius’s life development reveal his great personality as a traditional Confucian historical spiritual symbol.
Keywords: Confucius; autobiographical account; basic human nature; knowing oneself; knowing others
In The Analects • “Governing,” there is Confucius’s famous statement in which he narrates his life: “At fifteen I set my heart on learning; at thirty I stood firm; at forty I had no perplexities; at fifty I knew Heaven’s mandate; at sixty my ear was obedient; at seventy I could follow my heart’s desire without transgressing the bounds.” Different versions may differ slightly in specific wording—for example, “ear was obedient” is sometimes written as “your ear was obedient,” and “follow my heart” is sometimes read as “indulge my heart”[1] (87, 89)—but such subtle differences are not the main cause of disagreements, past and present, in understanding this passage. The main point of divergence lies in how to correctly grasp “at fifty I knew Heaven’s mandate; at sixty my ear was obedient,” so as to be closer to Confucius’s original intent. Given the great significance of this passage for understanding Confucius’s character and teachings, this paper will re-examine it.
This paper holds that since Confucius’s original intent is no longer verifiable and cannot be verified, rather than clinging to the elusive subtle words and profound meanings of the sage, it is better to focus on how to better construct (or so-called “restore”) the life-development stages implied by this passage that accord with basic common sense and basic human nature, and to make them maximally compatible with or maximally approximate Confucius’s actual life. We do not pursue one-hundred-percent correctness in our construction, because that is impossible and unnecessary. What we pursue is that this kind of construction can produce practical benefits for our understanding of real life and real human nature, and the maximization of such benefits is precisely the greatest value of Confucius as a traditional Confucian historical spiritual symbol. In fact, whether consciously or unconsciously, all interpretations of The Analects throughout history—whether of the “the Six Classics annotate me” type or the “I annotate the Six Classics” type—are mixtures of the two to varying degrees. Our effort is merely to consciously make the relationship between the two as mutually adaptable as possible, thereby revealing some universal principle of life-development stages. The specific content of this universal principle is of course not fully discerned by humankind, but it is not entirely unknowable either. Our method is nothing more than moving from the “known” to the “unknown,” from the “certain” to the “uncertain,” step by step sketching an approximate blueprint of life-development stages that does not violate basic common sense and basic human nature. Concretely, this means: from the specific linguistic environment of the target passage, against the broader background of Confucius’s thought and life experience, using perspectives from linguistics (or exegetics), psychology, philosophical anthropology, and other disciplines, and drawing on relevant discussions by scholars past and present, as well as analogies to similar states of spiritual development in certain other historical figures, we carry out our construction. Of course, these specific methods are used in an integrated manner in this paper.
Confucius’s autobiographical account of his life clearly reflects a stage-based developmental process. In this process there are different specific time nodes, such as “fifteen,” “thirty,” “forty,” and so on, which embody a gradual, step-by-step feature and accord with our general understanding of the basic pattern of human development. Of course, Confucius’s use of age nodes such as “fifteen,” “thirty,” and “forty,” i.e., multiples of five or ten, to indicate different stages of his life development, may not necessarily refer precisely to the exact age at which a certain stage began or ended; rather, it is more likely a vague expression, perhaps reflecting some feature of Chinese pragmatics, but in essence it is meant to roughly delineate the trajectory of a life. Below is a brief analysis of this autobiographical account:
“At fifteen I set my heart on learning”: This refers to Confucius’s resolve at the age of fifteen to study or pursue learning. “Learning” appears frequently in The Analects and has rich connotations; in a word, it should be the “Way of Great Learning” that Confucianism esteems. There are also many paths to “learning”: besides directly reading texts (“to learn and regularly practice it”), it should also include learning from others (“not ashamed to ask those below,” “when seeing the worthy, think of becoming their equal,” etc.) and learning from society (“see much and set aside what is doubtful,” “hear much and set aside what is doubtful,” etc.). Confucius also repeatedly expressed his own quality of being “fond of learning,” such as: “In a hamlet of ten households, there must be those as loyal and trustworthy as Qiu, but none as fond of learning as Qiu.” (Gongye Chang) “Silently to take note of it, to learn without satiety, to teach others without weariness—what have I to do with these?” (Shu’er) Huang Kan’s Yishu on The Analects holds that “fifteen is the age of completing childhood; one’s discernment and deliberation are firm and clear, therefore it is at this year that one sets one’s will on learning,”[1] (83) which generally explains why setting one’s will on learning at fifteen is reasonable. Confucius also said of himself that he would “learn from below and reach above” (Xian Wen); according to the sequence of his autobiographical account, it is evident that saying he regarded this stage of “setting his will on learning” as the initial stage of his life development, from which all subsequent stages arose, is coherent.
“At thirty I stood firm”: Here, “standing firm” should refer separately to the material level and the spiritual level. In Confucius’s time, being able to enter school and read books was a privilege of a small number of people with status. The Shangshu • “Zhou Tradition” records: “The sons of the king, the sons of the dukes, the high ministers and great officers, and the heirs of senior士 enter primary school at fifteen and enter the Great School at twenty”[1] (83), which shows as much. These people study for years; if their learning is excellent, they enter office. By thirty, achieving material independence should be entirely normal. Confucius also had the benevolent person’s aspiration: “Wishing to stand firm oneself, one helps others to stand firm; wishing to succeed oneself, one helps others to succeed” (Yong Ye). Here “standing firm” is proposed in response to Zigong’s “relieving the multitude,” and inherently contains the practical-rational color of Confucianism, referring to material independence and self-reliance. But since material “standing firm at thirty” is not difficult, this “standing firm” should all the more be spiritual, which is also consistent with the emphasis on spiritual development throughout Confucius’s autobiographical account. In The Analects, discussions of “standing firm” are numerous, and none is unrelated to some spiritual pursuit; even the above-quoted “wishing to stand firm oneself, one helps others to stand firm” is a kind of promoting the Way and aiding the people. Another example: “From ancient times there have been deaths; without trust the people cannot stand” (Yan Yuan), all displaying a similar idealistic tone. As for what one stands upon, some believe it is “standing upon ritual”[1] (84), which is quite reasonable, because related expressions appear three times in The Analects①, by no means coincidentally. Others believe it is “standing upon the Way,” as expressed in “One may be fit to approach the Way with, but not fit to stand with” (Zi Han). This paper adopts the statement of Liu Baonan of the Qing: “All explanations that take ‘standing’ as standing upon the Way or standing upon ritual are encompassed within learning; learning does not go beyond the Way and ritual.”[1] (84) In sum, that “standing firm at thirty” is a further development after “setting one’s will on learning” is beyond doubt.
“At forty I had no perplexities”: Qian Mu interprets this as: “Human affairs have differences and similarities, favorable and adverse turns. Though one may have the will and be able to stand, if one differs from or is opposed by the external world, the heart easily gives rise to perplexities. One must be able, regarding all external words, events, and changes, to understand them to a deep point, to their ultimate point, and to the points where they mutually connect, leaving nothing doubtful; then one not only stands and holds fast, but also knows them clearly and dwells in them at ease…”[2] (22) In the appendix “Chronological Table of Confucius’s Life,” Qian believes that after thirty Confucius “taught disciples and set up instruction,” and thereafter engaged in various social and political activities (though not yet formally entering office)[2] (370). Therefore, attributing Confucius’s “no perplexities” to a quality of conduct forged through broad contact with society and observation of politics after the age of standing firm is highly reasonable. Lunyu Hou’an quotes The Analects “fit to stand with, not fit to weigh expediencies with” to argue that “no perplexities is reaching expediency”[1] (84), which can be seen as an ability both to deal flexibly with complicated worldly affairs and to ensure that one’s already-established aspirations are not confused by them. This is undoubtedly an advance and maturation after setting one’s will on learning at fifteen and standing upon learning at thirty. Mencius’s so-called “at forty, the heart does not waver” (Gongsun Chou I) is similar: both are a sustained yet simple focus on one’s already-established aspiration. More precisely, both “no perplexities” and “does not waver” are, after the Confucian basic practice of “seeking within,” still going forward without hesitation to “know it cannot be done and yet do it” (Confucius) and “though ten thousand men oppose me, I will go” (Mencius). In Mencius’s context, “does not waver” and “though ten thousand men oppose me, I will go” appear together and are closely related. From this, this paper holds that the “no perplexities” of “at forty I had no perplexities” is less “having nothing that perplexes” as Huang Kan interprets, or Zhu Xi’s “having no doubts about what is so of things,” and more a profound awareness, in the broad direction, of one’s own aspiration. This awareness made Confucius consciously “without perplexities” amid an extraordinarily complex life; thus “no perplexities” became a firm steadfastness in his aspiration (Qian Mu’s “knowing them clearly and dwelling in them at ease”), similar to Zixia’s “broad learning and steadfast resolve” (Zi Zhang). That is to say, Confucius’s “no perplexities” certainly includes a clearer and deeper understanding of “all external words, events, and changes,” but to say that this understanding is complete to the point of having no doubts at all likely does not accord with reality and is impossible, detached from the perplexing, hard-to-resolve real life we know. In fact, Confucius himself very soberly said: “There are three things in the Way of the gentleman; I am not able to do them… the wise are not perplexed…” (Xian Wen). This is his self-knowledge. Moreover, if one clings to the literal meaning of “no perplexities” and simply reduces it to progress in Confucius’s knowledge while ignoring the maturity of his mind, this likely also does not conform to the main point of Confucius’s autobiographical account. As for what this “aspiration” specifically refers to, we can take a broad view and, based on Confucius’s main life experience from thirty to forty—namely, opening a teaching forum—consider it to mean promoting and spreading his doctrine of benevolence and ritual, that doctrine which he would uphold “in haste and in distress alike” (Li Ren). This is also prompted by Confucius’s social identity of “standing upon learning” and his belief that “it is people who can broaden the Way” (Wei Linggong). The doctrine of benevolence and ritual is complex and hard to exhaustively describe, but as a concept it can be used in this paper. Under this understanding, the self-identification reflected in The Analects—“Heaven produced the virtue in me” (Shu’er) and “Heaven has not yet let this culture perish; what can the people of Kuang do to me?” (Zi Han)—as a sense of mission internalized through long-term idealized practice of transmitting the Way and teaching, very likely germinated at this time (detailed below).
The brief analysis above confirms our view: Confucius’s life development is progressive; the older he became, the more mature his mind. When Confucius entered the final stage of his life, that is, after seventy, he even felt that he had reached the sage’s realm of “following his heart’s desire without transgressing the bounds.” In modern terms, this is reaching an organic unity of individuality and sociality, personal desire and social constraint—one can obtain complete spiritual freedom within the external social framework; at this time his disposition and learning had both reached their peak. We certainly have reason to question the truth of this, but given the unreachability and unverifiability of this realm, we also do not intend to deny it. What we can be sure of is that although Confucius achieved “following his heart’s desire,” what he desired and sought throughout his life could never truly be fully realized. This disunity between purpose and result must have produced corresponding frustration or other negative emotions in his psyche. Therefore, his “not transgressing the bounds,” besides superficially being worldly-wise in not violating the general social norms of his time (as is well known, these social norms were not all endorsed by Confucius), perhaps more deeply reflects the overcoming of psychological anxiety from desiring yet not obtaining; and this overcoming, as a kind of cultivation, perhaps was no longer a subconscious effort, but a psychological coping mechanism of habitual unawareness and harmony between self and world. Merely “not transgressing the bounds” by conforming to general social norms is not a sign of lofty attainment; only when it is paired with the subjective premise of “following one’s heart’s desire” does it become unfathomably profound. Confucius held that in old age, for the gentleman, “the caution is against gain” (Ji Shi), which may indeed be an observation from experience. Because the gentleman has firm aspirations and pursuits, whether seeking and not obtaining, seeking and not yet obtaining, or obtaining but not securing, it is hard to avoid becoming anxiously preoccupied with gain and loss②; and the dissolution of this perennial human anxiety undeniably represents a certain highest realm of life, beyond the reach of ordinary people. The admiration of Confucius by his disciples③ and the supreme reputation he enjoyed after death perhaps to some extent reflect the recognition by common human nature of this sage’s realm.
Beginning with learning, learning from below and reaching above, broadly engaging worldly affairs, continuously maturing, and arriving at perfection—this developmental characteristic of Confucius’s life provides directional guidance for our analysis of the highly controversial “at fifty I knew Heaven’s mandate; at sixty my ear was obedient.” That is, the spiritual realms Confucius developed at fifty and sixty arose in the context that his aspiration had already become very clear (“at forty I had no perplexities”), as he rose and fell with the world, continually dealt with various social activities and real politics, and attempted to transform the world④. As Confucius became ever more deeply involved in the world and approached old age, he finally resolved all negative emotions (conscious or unconscious) derived from failing to attain his aims, and ultimately achieved, subjectively, the harmony between self and world of “following his heart’s desire without transgressing the bounds.”
Before formally beginning this section, we have a theoretical presupposition: whether consciously or unconsciously, ordinary people tend to believe that understanding oneself is simpler than understanding others⑤; in other words, “knowing others” is far more difficult than “knowing oneself.” This may be because all of others’ inner activities are not direct and transparent to us, and because in terms of numbers, others are “many” while the self is “one”; the internal structure and variations of the plural “other” are far more unpredictable than those of a single individual. In The Analects there are sayings such as “Do not worry that others do not know you; worry that you do not know others” (Xue Er) and “Do not worry that no one knows you; seek to be knowable” (Li Ren), which, taken together, also confirm our presupposition. Of course, which is in fact easier, “knowing others” or “knowing oneself,” is likely an endless philosophical epistemological question and exceeds the scope of this paper. However, there are two additional points to note here: ① Whether knowing oneself or knowing others, both are long-term and continuous experiential cognitive activities. They accompany the emergence of a person’s subject consciousness and deepen with the deepening of practice, ultimately forming a stable cognitive state; but this state has no clear boundary or terminal period and can be regarded as “knowing oneself and knowing others in the true sense.” We believe that knowing oneself and knowing others in the true sense both require very rich experience in dealing with the world and extensive life experience. ② Knowing others and knowing oneself are bidirectional interactive cognitive activities: knowing others requires knowing oneself, and knowing oneself also requires knowing others; the two constrain and promote each other. Only in terms of temporal sequence do we believe that, in subjective feeling, ordinary people think knowing oneself precedes knowing others, and only after recognizing oneself can one recognize others. This paper holds that these two features, as reflected in the stages of Confucius’s life, correspond respectively to the stage of “at fifty I knew Heaven’s mandate” and the stage of “at sixty my ear was obedient.”
As for the “Heaven’s mandate” in “at fifty I knew Heaven’s mandate,” there have historically been many different views. According to the research of Fu Xiliang[]38-40 or Zhou Huimin[]17-21, it can be divided at least into the following six kinds: ① The principles of all things revealed in the Book of Changes, or Zhu Xi’s “exhausting the principles of things” type of “the reason why things are so as they are.” ② A “fate” that does not shift with individual will and determines success and failure in human affairs or political rise and decline. ③ The “virtue-mandate” proposed by Liu Baonan, i.e., “Heaven produced the virtue in me,” where “virtue” refers to “the Way of benevolence, righteousness, ritual, and wisdom.” ④ The “moral Heaven’s mandate” proposed by Xu Fuguan in developing Liu Baonan’s view; the difference is that Xu denies the innateness of morality and emphasizes that morality is internalized from “heteronomy” into “autonomy” through experience. ⑤ Fu Xiliang’s political mission of setting things right and formally entering office. ⑥ Zhou Huimin’s “traditional concept of Heaven’s mandate since the Western Zhou,” namely the “political mission of the king, who receives Heaven’s mandate, to rule the world,” in which virtue is bestowed by Heaven (this “Heaven’s mandate” later gradually shifted from the Zhou king personally to being shared by the feudal lords and even their ministers), which is in fact a synthesis of views ②, ③, and ⑤.
These six interpretations of “Heaven’s mandate” naturally are all reasonable and supported by evidence, and the actual interpretations existing through the ages may be even more complex. But the aim of this paper is not to list and compare viewpoints, and therefore it has no intention of arguing in detail the gains and losses of each. In the analytical framework of this paper, these viewpoints all have aspects worth adopting and are valuable for reference; but because they overemphasize “using the classics to annotate the classics” or, by clinging to Confucius’s personal experiences, neglect an overall grasp of Confucius’s autobiographical account from the perspective of basic common sense and basic human nature, they are inevitably one-sided. The following is our analysis:
First, there is no doubt that “knowing Heaven’s mandate” is a development from “no perplexities.” Qian Mu explains this as: “Although one no longer has perplexities about principles, one’s will and conduct may still face difficulties. The more one advances in will and moves forward in action, the greater the difficulties one encounters may be. Therefore, one who can stand firm and have no perplexities, if advancing further, must be able to know Heaven’s mandate. Heaven’s mandate refers to all that is the proper Way and duty in life. The duties of the Way and righteousness do not seem hard to know; yet there are those who keep the Way and fulfill their duty and still remain impoverished and blocked, unable to get through. How can what is proper nonetheless be blocked? How can what is blocked still nonetheless be proper? This meaning is hard to know. Encountering such a realm, one then needs the learning of Heaven’s mandate.”[2] (22, 23) Qian’s view continues his emphasis, in analyzing “no perplexities,” on general life experience; it is apt and precise, universal, and he insightfully points out: “Confucius progressed from learning to faith; it was not that he first had faith and then learned,” and learning was in fact his life’s “supreme ultimate faith.” Though this faith was non-religious, it surpassed religion; Confucius’s “knowing Heaven’s mandate” in fact also arose from this[2] (23). This captures the fundamental characteristic of Confucius’s life stages: “learning from below and reaching above.” But based on our analysis in the previous section, we think Qian’s phrase “no longer has perplexities about principles” is inaccurate; Confucius’s “no perplexities” should refer more to steadfastness, in the broad direction, in his already determined aspiration, rather than complete mastery of principles, which does not accord with reality and is impossible. According to basic common sense, “difficulty” and “perplexity” are indeed different, but “perplexity” aids “difficulty,” and “difficulty” breeds “perplexity”; difficulty and perplexity beget each other without end. If “will and conduct still face difficulties,” how can it be that one “no longer has perplexities about principles”? The “those who keep the Way and fulfill their duty and still remain impoverished and blocked, unable to get through” that Qian discusses is itself an eternal great perplexity of life (the situation of desiring yet not obtaining mentioned in the previous section), and this perplexity also points to principles. Moreover, according to the saying “at sixty my ear was obedient” (detailed below), we believe that being without perplexities regarding external principles should at least be after Confucius turned sixty, or even after seventy, not earlier. Therefore, this paper holds that the “Heaven’s mandate” in “knowing Heaven’s mandate” cannot be a learning that answers “How can what is proper nonetheless be blocked, and what is blocked still nonetheless be proper,” because that question is unanswerable⑥; rather, it is a kind of worldly wisdom or cultivation for coping with such perplexing situations. This wisdom or cultivation is a psychological coping mechanism forged by Confucius, after establishing a firm aspiration, through broad engagement with worldly affairs when his pursuit of aspiration met with difficulty; it is an elevation, in terms of dealing with the world, of “at forty I had no perplexities.”
Accordingly, we believe that, as a development from “no perplexities,” the “Heaven’s mandate” of “knowing Heaven’s mandate” includes at least two dimensions: richer experience in dealing with the world and more concrete life aspirations, with a greater emphasis on the latter (just as “no perplexities” is more about not being perplexed regarding one’s aspiration). This superficially approaches viewpoint ⑤ above. Richer experience in dealing with the world comes from continually deepening observation of social conditions and political situations, and should conform to the life trajectory of Confucius and of generally accomplished yet still striving individuals, though of course it cannot be proven. However, a common observation is that when one’s aspiration is first established, it is extremely rough: some are directional, some fluctuate; but as one becomes more involved in the world, and one’s understanding deepens of one’s position within the network of social relations, one’s aspiration often becomes clearer and more concrete. We believe this process is lifelong, but varies by individual in forming a stable form at some period of life (that is, the broad-direction aspiration we have been emphasizing); and this stable form, as time passes, can have different manifestations, or can have none. For example, some people spend their entire lives in one professional field—either mechanically repeating or drilling ever deeper—and in either case, the result is deepening their unconscious professional identity: “In this life I can only/want to do this line of work.” Others recognize where their desires or purposes lie; at one time they engage in this line, at another time switch to another; their lives are full of change, but these occupational changes can all be unified under the desires or purposes they have already recognized, and thus can still be regarded as a stable aspiration form. This explanation may invite criticism for being behaviorist and rigid, but it is true and explanatory. In other words, our conclusion—that “as one becomes more involved in the world, and one’s understanding deepens of one’s position within the network of social relations, one’s aspiration often becomes clearer and more concrete”—has profound real-world grounding and is hard to refute. Under scrutiny by this conclusion, this paper holds that the life turning point of Confucius’s formally entering office in the year he “knew Heaven’s mandate” precisely suggests that the “Heaven’s mandate” of “knowing Heaven’s mandate” is a further clarification and concretization of the aspiration established in his “no perplexities” years; more precisely, it refers to a sense of political mission to actively intervene in politics. Whether it is the steadfast pursuit in the years of no perplexities of transforming customs through the doctrine of benevolence and ritual, or the decision in the year of knowing the mandate to formally enter politics, both embody Confucius’s worldly ambition to engage and to transform the world, and are consistent from beginning to end.
Different from viewpoint ⑤ above, this paper holds that the “Heaven’s mandate” of “knowing Heaven’s mandate” essentially refers to Confucius’s deep internal self-cognition, not merely a surface-level political mission to enter office; therefore, “knowing Heaven’s mandate” here should be synonymous with “knowing oneself,” referring to the completion of a cognitive return and affirmation of the deep self, and this completion is formally marked by Confucius’s official entry into office. One must know that it was not easy for Confucius to formally embark on the path of politics; he underwent profound ideological struggle. Many scholars have pointed out the causal connection between Confucius’s entering office and Yang Huo’s meeting Confucius; thereafter began Confucius’s eighteen-year political career. In The Analects • “Yang Huo,” there is a relevant record:
Yang Huo wished to see Confucius, but Confucius would not see him. He sent Confucius a piglet. Confucius chose a time when he was away and went to pay him a visit, but met him on the road. He said to Confucius, “Come, I have something to say to you.” He said, “To harbor one’s treasure and let one’s state go astray—can that be called benevolence?” He said, “No.” “To be fond of engagement in affairs and repeatedly miss the right time—can that be called wisdom?” He said, “No.” “Days and months pass; the years do not wait for us.” Confucius said, “All right. I shall enter office.”
This record well reflects Confucius’s state of mind of wanting to engage in politics yet hesitating. Confucius’s initial refusal to see Yang Huo and his behavior of avoiding Yang Huo was in fact a kind of self-denial & self-depletion of his true desire, but such denial could not withstand Yang Huo’s persuasion and was defeated by the desire of his true self; this achieved the above-mentioned cognitive return of affirming the deep self. Although the temporal order cannot be proven, Confucius’s political desire was so strong that it appears multiple times in The Analects. For example, Zi Han records Confucius’s emotional exclamation: “Sell me, sell me! I am waiting for the merchant!” (Zi Han), truly reflecting his desire to seek opportunities to enter politics. Once this desire was seriously confirmed, it became unstoppable: once he entered office, it lasted eighteen years, until he was old and frail, with the will but not the strength, and only then did he stop. In the same “Yang Huo” chapter there are two records of Confucius wanting to go as soon as he was summoned, respectively: “Gongshan Furao rebelled with Fei; he summoned him, and the Master wished to go” and “Bi Xi summoned him, and the Master wished to go.” Greatly different from the hesitation Confucius displayed when “Yang Huo wished to see [him],” in these two summonses it was instead Zilu—who in outward form inherited Confucius’s doctrinal system rather than his temperament—who played the role of obstructing Confucius from accepting the summons, while Confucius in both cases spoke to rebut and negate such obstruction⑦. The symbolic significance of the shift from hesitation and passive entry into office to proactive willingness to respond to summonses is thought-provoking, confirming the previous section’s point that “at forty I had no perplexities” meant not being perplexed about his own aspiration rather than not being perplexed about principles. And even if it was not being perplexed about his aspiration, “at forty I had no perplexities” was only in the broad direction; there was still a distance from discovering the true self of his inner aspiration to engage in politics. Yet it did provide the spiritual temperamental foundation for that later discovery. As he became more involved in the world, his understanding of society and of himself deepened, and the self-identification “Heaven produced the virtue in me,” continually deepened by the long-term idealized practice of spreading the doctrine of benevolence and ritual, Confucius’s internal true self—desiring to enter politics and transform the world—became increasingly apparent. By fifty, he affirmed this true self with the phrase “knowing Heaven’s mandate”; for the rest of his life, he did not fundamentally waver in this self-identification. Even in later years when he withdrew and compiled the Spring and Autumn Annals, this was merely intervening in politics in a way that superficially was not political engagement; its political intervention color was no less strong than directly traveling among the feudal states, and even exceeded it, because the former aimed to leave a tangible and lasting political legacy, whereas the latter only achieved results for the moment. It can be seen that after “knowing Heaven’s mandate,” Confucius no longer underwent major changes in self-identification. Therefore, in the discourse system of this paper, “knowing Heaven’s mandate” in fact refers to “knowing oneself,” a truly stable, fully formed cognitive state of the self.
As for viewpoint ② above—namely that the “Heaven’s mandate” of “knowing Heaven’s mandate” is a concept of Heaven’s mandate with fatalistic coloring—although evidence can be found for it in The Analects⑧, it is hard to ground it in Confucius’s autobiographical account, and this paper does not adopt it. First, we know that Confucius’s concept of Heaven’s mandate with fatalistic coloring is not pessimistic and inactive, but active and even “knowing it cannot be done and yet doing it.” Confucius advocated that the gentleman should “stand in awe of Heaven’s mandate” (Ji Shi). This awe of Heaven’s mandate is in fact a sober recognition that the principles of all things or the so-called “reason why things are so as they are” are difficult to fully know; it is in the same vein as the practical-rational character that Confucius promoted of “see much and set aside what is doubtful” and “hear much and set aside what is doubtful.” Mencius has the martyr spirit: “There is nothing that is not fate; submit and accept what is correct… to fulfill one’s way and die is correct fate; to die in shackles is not correct fate” (Mencius • “Gaozi II”). Xunzi has the theoretical confidence: “control Heaven’s mandate and use it” (Xunzi • “Discourse on Heaven”). It can even be said that within the entire traditional Confucian thought, one cannot find a completely resignationist fatalism. Confucius formally entered office around fifty; he should have been full of ambition and intent on accomplishment, otherwise it would have been impossible for it to last eighteen years. And the characteristics in his self-identification of “Heaven produced the virtue in me” and “this culture is here” mean that at this time he was unlikely to focus his attention on reflections concerning personal limitations and the uncontrollability of human affairs—if we take “knowing Heaven’s mandate” to refer to the main characteristic of his stage from fifty to sixty. In any case, this is hard to make sense of, and it does not connect well with his prior and subsequent life stages. For example, common sense would ask: why would one need to wait until fifty to become aware of personal limitations and the uncontrollability of human affairs? Even if this feeling was especially strong at fifty, why is it only the experience at fifty that is worth emphasizing? This shows the limited explanatory power of viewpoint ②. Of course, if, when Confucius narrated his life, the “Heaven’s mandate” he meant by “knowing Heaven’s mandate” did indeed contain the “concept of Heaven’s mandate” discussed above, and even was his personal original intent, we hold that, psychologically speaking, this “Heaven’s mandate” still unconsciously reflects Confucius’s self-identification after justification, a self-illusion projected outward. Therefore, “knowing Heaven’s mandate” ultimately is still a kind of indirect, rationalized “knowing oneself.” Self-justification is a self-defence mechanism of the human mind in response to reality that cannot be resolved or controlled; sometimes it manifests as insecure self-deception, sometimes as overconfident self-affirmation, but more often seems to be a mixture of the two—the result of self-justification is a kind of self-affirmation, yet the act of justification presupposes one’s awareness of personal limitations and the uncontrollability of human affairs. This kind of self-justification is well embodied in Confucius: on the one hand, in The Analects Confucius repeatedly clearly expressed the idea “If employed, then act; if rejected, then conceal oneself” (Shu’er)⑨, which in behavior manifested as his initial hesitant attitude toward entering office; on the other hand, Confucius, by yielding to his true inner desire, overcame his inner hesitation and finally could not withstand Yang Huo’s persuasion and formally entered office; after entering office, it became unstoppable—despite repeated hardships, he still encouraged himself with “Heaven produced the virtue in me” and “this culture is here.” This means that Confucius’s recognition at fifty of his life desire and self-positioning, subjectively, attributed this recognition to the summons of Heaven’s mandate; and the essence of this attribution is precisely the self-justification discussed in this paper—suppressing the prior principle of withdrawing when the state lacks the Way, and his lack of confidence in engaging in politics, and justifying it. Confucius’s self-identification after such self-justification is also reflected in others’ evaluations of him⑩, showing the strength of his personal charisma and the depth of his confident “knowing Heaven’s mandate.” Mencius had a similar mental state, saying: “If one wishes to bring order to the world, in the present age, if not me, then who? Why should I not be pleased?” and this confidence came from the Heaven’s mandate view that “in five hundred years there must arise a true king,” and that now was the time (Mencius • “Gongsun Chou II”), which is also a self-justifying “knowing oneself” state. Of course, we cannot guarantee that the ambition of traditional Confucian thinkers to “establish the mind for Heaven and Earth, establish the mandate for the living people, continue the lost learning for past sages, and open great peace for ten thousand generations” (Zhangzi Yulu • “Yulu Zhong”) all stems from “knowing oneself” rather than historical imitation; it requires analysis case by case. But in any case, specifically for Confucius, the “knowing Heaven’s mandate” in his autobiographical account in fact refers to “knowing oneself,” and this can be said to be the most reasonable.
Once it is clear that the “knowing Heaven’s mandate” of “at fifty I knew Heaven’s mandate” is actually “knowing oneself,” it is not difficult to understand that the “obedient ear” of “at sixty my ear was obedient” refers to “knowing others.” From “knowing oneself” to “knowing others,” this paper’s conjecture is that it involved a process from paying excessive attention to the realization of personal ambitions to truly and personally recognizing personal limitations and the uncontrollability of human affairs; or, in other words, a process of “overconfidence—beginning to hesitate—recognizing reality.” Perhaps this process occurs from time to time in everyone’s life, but this paper holds that only after one “knows oneself” in the true sense and then falls into this repetitive process several more times is it possible to “know others” in the true sense⑪. As for the conditions required to realize this “knowing oneself/knowing others” procedure, this paper does not intend to discuss and cannot discuss. But it can be affirmed that after people recognize their own desires and self-positioning and uphold this identification throughout life, they still cannot guarantee that in the real world they will not encounter the predicament of purposes or desires not being realized. The repetitiveness of this predicament makes people continually reinterpret the situation and reevaluate personal limitations and the uncontrollability of human affairs—and a possible result is that in the process of self-justification, people gradually tend to form a stable cognitive form about themselves that is neither overconfident nor underconfident and that points toward others; this is the meaning of “knowing others.” The so-called “obedient ear” is in fact an “obedient heart.” The opening of The Analects asks rhetorically: “When people do not understand you and you are not resentful, is that not the gentleman?” (Xue Er) But this quality of conduct is not easy to attain; Confucius himself at times complained that “no one understands me”:
The Master said, “No one understands me!” Zigong said, “Why is it that no one understands you?” The Master said, “I do not resent Heaven, nor blame people. I learn from below and reach above. Those who understand me—perhaps it is Heaven!”
The “learning from below and reaching above; those who understand me—perhaps it is Heaven,” according to the logic of this paper, reflects Confucius’s state of “knowing oneself.” But Confucius here contradictorily thought he “does not resent Heaven, nor blame people,” which is also a kind of self-justification; in fact, he at least had not yet achieved “not blaming people” in the true sense—for example, he still sighed, “No one understands me!” Tao Yuanming had a similar mental state. Tao Yuanming wrote “Return” at forty-one, saying, “I delight in Heaven’s mandate—what further doubts could there be,” which shows that subjectively he had already realized “knowing Heaven’s mandate,” that is, he recognized himself and determined that for the rest of his life he would only withdraw into leisure and seclusion and no longer seek office—this was Tao Yuanming’s “knowing himself.” But even so, Tao Yuanming’s poetry and prose still strongly display his social anxiety, that is, his inability to have “an obedient ear” or “an obedient heart.” For example, in “Imitating the Ancient (No. 6),” “I tire of hearing the talk of the world; I make friends as far as Linzi… I do not resent the long roads, but I fear deceit between people and me. If by any chance it does not align with my wishes, I will forever be laughed at by the world…” is the best reflection of this mindset. All these confirm the universality of this section’s theoretical presupposition: ordinary people tend to think “knowing others” is harder than “knowing oneself.” We cannot verify the truth of this judgment in fact, but in terms of subjective evaluation, Confucius’s “obedient ear” should be a worldly wisdom after “knowing others,” and should have broad persuasive power.
Able both to “know oneself” and to “know others,” not perplexed in dealing with the world and not losing oneself—perhaps only then is the spiritual realm revealed by “following one’s heart’s desire without transgressing the bounds.” Confucius’s personality is undoubtedly great, and his autobiographical account shows this.
① They are respectively: “Inspired by poetry, established in ritual, completed in music.” (Tai Bo) “If one does not learn ritual, one has no means to stand.” (Ji Shi) “If one does not know ritual, one has no means to stand.” (Yao Yue)
② The Master said: “A petty man—can he serve a ruler? Before he has obtained it, he worries about obtaining it; once he has obtained it, he worries about losing it. If he worries about losing it, there is nothing he will not do.” (Yang Huo) Even so, between purpose and result, the gentleman will also have the petty man’s psychology of anxious preoccupation with gain and loss; it is just that their behaviors and methods for handling this anxious psychology may differ. For example: “The gentleman remains steadfast in poverty; the petty man, in poverty, becomes unrestrained.” (Wei Linggong)
③ For example, Yan Yuan’s evaluation of Confucius: “The more I look up to him, the higher he seems; the more I drill into him, the firmer he seems; I look at him and he is in front, and suddenly he is behind… Though I wish to follow him, there is no way.” (Zi Han) Another example is Zigong’s twice denying others’ evaluation that he surpassed Confucius, holding that “the Master is unapproachable, like Heaven which cannot be climbed by steps.” (Zi Zhang)
④ For example, when Confucius responded to Chang Ju and Jie Ni, he said: “If the world had the Way, Qiu would not join in changing it.” (Wei Zi), from which one can see Confucius’s active, engaged worldly image. Although Confucius repeatedly expressed the idea “When the world has the Way, appear; when it lacks the Way, withdraw” (Tai Bo), he himself, after all, was an active participant in or intervener in real politics, “one who knows it cannot be done and yet does it” (Xian Wen).
⑤ Here “understanding oneself,” “understanding others,” and later “knowing oneself and knowing others,” “recognizing oneself and recognizing others,” etc., are all in the full sense. As for what degree can be called “knowing oneself and knowing others in the full sense,” it is hard to have an objective evaluative standard and is hard to explain, but it also seems undeniably perceptible, just as many people unconsciously use these terms, as their usage shows.
⑥ By the same reasoning, the impracticality of viewpoint ① above can be demonstrated. We can try to falsify it by reductio ad absurdum: if Confucius, at fifty, already knew the so-called principles of all things or “the reason why things are so as they are,” why was he still unable to carry through his aspiration for the rest of his life? Why did his ear only become obedient at sixty, and only at seventy could he follow his heart’s desire without transgressing the bounds? This is inextricable, not conforming to real life and real human nature. The discussion below will also continually prove this point.
⑦ The original texts of the two records are: (1) Gongshan Furao rebelled with Fei; he summoned him, and the Master wished to go. Zilu was displeased and said: “We have nowhere to go already; why must we go to the Gongshan clan?” The Master said: “Would the one who summons me do so for nothing? If someone employed me, would I not make it an Eastern Zhou?” (2) Bi Xi summoned him, and the Master wished to go. Zilu said: “In former times You heard from the Master: When one is intimate with a person who does what is not good, the gentleman does not enter. Bi Xi rebelled with Zhongmou; if you go, how will that be?” The Master said: “Yes. There is such a saying: Is it not called hard? Ground and it does not become thin. Is it not called white? Dyed and it does not become black. Am I a gourd? How could I be tied up and not eaten?”
⑧ For example: Bo Niu was ill; the Master asked after him. He went to the window and held his hand, saying: “It is fate! Such a man, and yet such an illness! Such a man, and yet such an illness!” (Yong Ye) Another example: The Master said: “Whether the Way is going to be practiced is fate; whether the Way is going to be abandoned is fate. What can Gongbo Liao do against fate?” (Xian Wen)
⑨ Such as the following three: (1) The Master said: “Be steadfast in faith and fond of learning; keep to death and be good in the Way. Do not enter a dangerous state; do not dwell in a chaotic state; when the world has the Way, appear; when it lacks the Way, withdraw…” (Tai Bo) (2) Xian asked about shame. The Master said: “When the state has the Way, take salary; when the state lacks the Way, taking salary is shameful.” (Xian Wen) (3) The Master said: “… What a gentleman Qu Boyu was. When the state has the Way, he serves; when the state lacks the Way, he can roll it up and keep it in his bosom.” (Wei Linggong)⑩As in “Zihan”: The Grand Steward asked Zigong, saying: “Is the Master a sage, then? Why is he so versatile?” Zigong said: “Indeed, Heaven has endowed him so that he is about to become a sage, and he is also versatile.” When the Master heard of it, he said: “Does the Grand Steward know me? When I was young I was of low status, therefore I could do many menial things. Does a gentleman have many [such skills]? Not many…” (“Zihan”) Confucius did not deny Zigong’s appraisal of him as “Heaven-endowed and about to become a sage,” and given that “the Grand Steward asked Zigong,” this is clearly something that happened after Confucius had entered politics. Another example: The border warden of Yi requested to see [Confucius], saying: “When a gentleman comes to this place, I have never failed to see him.” The attendants introduced him. When he came out, he said: “You gentlemen, what need is there to worry about losing [your Master]? It has long been that the world is without the Way; Heaven is going to use the Master as a wooden clapper.” (“Bayi”)
⑪This article holds that, in the true sense, “knowing oneself and knowing others” refers to “a stable cognitive state, but this state has no clear boundaries and no terminal period” (see Section 3), which means that, in terms of degree, “knowing oneself” can involve a state of excessive self-confidence. Because our distinction between “knowing oneself” and “knowing others” is not based on the degree of mental maturity (which is difficult to discuss); rather, it is based on the stable forms in which people see clearly their own desires and self-positioning (knowing oneself) and in which people see clearly their own limitations and the uncontrollability of human affairs (knowing others). As long as this form does not undergo a fundamental change (quantitative change but no qualitative change), then people’s cognitive state is essentially unchanged.
[1] Cheng Shude, comp. Collected Explanations of the Analects (Vol. 1) [M]. Beijing: Zhonghua Book Company, 2013.
[2] Qian Mu. New Explanation of the Analects [M]. Shanghai: SDX Joint Publishing Company, 2002.
[3] Fu Xiliang. On Confucius’s “At fifty I knew the Mandate of Heaven” [J]. Handan Journal, 2007(1).
[4] Zhou Huimin. The original meaning of Confucius’s “knowing the Mandate of Heaven” and an exploration of its path—reconsideration of Xu Fuguan’s article “Explaining
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